The Prussian philosopher, Immanuel Kant (1724-1804), famously exclaimed: ‘Two things fill the mind with ever new and increasing admiration and awe, the more often and steadily we reflect upon them: the starry heavens above me and the moral law within me.’ That was about as excited as Kant ever got, but he did these two points right, to some degree anyway.
First, the starry heavens above us are worthy of contemplation, for ‘the heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims His handiwork’ (Ps.19:1). In ancient Mesopotamia, people worshipped the moon god, which was presumably the first object of worship of Abraham before the Lord called him (Josh.24:2). Today there are plenty of people who want to govern their lives by astrology. But the stars point beyond themselves, as Joseph Addison put it:
In reason’s ear they all rejoice,
And utter forth a glorious voice,
For ever singing, as they shine,
The hand that made us is divine.
This is so obvious that we are without excuse if we do not recognise it (Rom.1:20); it is like having the torch on high-beam and still tripping over the rock in front of you.
When he was an atheist, Antony Flew would tell the parable of the invisible gardener. Two explorers came upon a clearing in the jungle and argued over whether there was a gardener. They watch and set all kinds of traps, including an electric fence and bloodhounds to patrol the area – but still no sign of a gardener. The skeptical explorer declared to his believing friend that there was no difference between an invisible gardener and an imaginary gardener. This misses the point that we are not meant to see God with our physical eyes here on earth, but to see the effects of His work. The heavens declare His glory, but so too do our fingernails, the feet of geckos, the webs of spiders, and the flight of birds. There is, said William Blake, eternity in a grain of sand.
Secondly, the moral law within us shows that God has made us moral beings (Rom.2:14-16). We break this law to our cost. Dr Bernard Nathanson presided over 75,000 abortions before he decided that he was actually presiding over the killing of human beings. What is also significant is that he describes the lifestyles of the staff involved in the grisly business. He writes of the excessive drinking, the nightmares, the fears and the pressures, adding that ‘abortion appeared sometimes to have had a more profound effect on the people who were doing them than on those on whom they were being done.’ In 1943 Heinrich Himmler gave an extraordinary speech to a gathering of SS leaders where he declared that, despite their job in exterminating the Jews, they had remained decent human beings. This explains the attitude of Adolf Eichmann who famously saw himself as simply carrying out his moral duty. No matter what we do, we think in moral terms.
What Kant missed was the third pointer to God, and that is Christ Himself. Christ is not Flew’s invisible gardener. He has come in the flesh, and declared that whoever has seen Him has seen the Father (John 14:9). In the starry heavens and the rest of creation, and in the moral law, we have a knowledge of God as our creator and judge, but in Christ we have a knowledge of God as our Saviour. ‘And this is the testimony, that God gave us eternal life, and this life is in His Son. Whoever has the Son has life; whoever does not have the Son of God does not have life’ (1 John 5:11-12). So far as we know, Kant never reached a saving knowledge of God because he rejected the gospel of Christ. Look up to the heavens and look within to the moral law, but look hardest at Christ who has saved His people through His life, death, and resurrection. As God, He is our goal; as man He is our way.