Could the Winter Sky Be Calling Us to Courage?
Orion’s stance, the nebula in his chest, and the bold truth Jesus brings
The clouds and rain as of late has really put a damper on my night sky time the last few days. I know the Moon was drifting away from Jupiter after their close encounter last night, Saturn is sinking toward the horizon more and more each evening, and the early winter constellations were beginning their slow climb. My eyes will be going straight to Orion over the next few months. It is my favorite night sky constellation.
There’s something about the first nights of December that always stirs me. Maybe it’s the anticipation of the Geminids building in the background. Maybe it’s the way the air feels sharper, cleaner, more honest. Or perhaps it’s simply Orion himself, rising earlier now, unmistakable, bold, and ancient.
I can find myself lingering on the faint glow tucked beneath his belt: the Orion Nebula, also known as M42, is a cradle of stars inside the silhouette of a warrior.
Every time I look, I feel a strange resonance between the sky above me and the words of Jesus that have always unsettled me a little:
“Do not think that I came to bring peace on earth; I did not come to bring peace, but a sword.”
— Matthew 10:34
This verse really struck me this weekend as I heard it at church. I wrestled with that verse all day. It didn’t fit the gentle, pastoral Jesus I grew up imagining. But the older I get, the more I realize that peace, real peace, often requires a fight. A warrior’s resolve. A willingness to cut through lies, illusions, and the comfortable shadows we hide in.
And suddenly, Orion makes sense to me in a new way.
Orion is a warrior, yes, but he carries a nebula in his heart.
The Orion Nebula is a place of creation, turbulence, and birth. It’s not peaceful. It’s not quiet. It’s a storm of gas and dust collapsing under gravity, igniting new suns in a cosmic furnace. It’s violent and beautiful at the same time.
Creation often is.
And maybe that’s the point.
Jesus didn’t come to maintain the status quo. He didn’t come to soothe us into complacency. He came to cut through the darkness with truth, truth sharp enough to divide, to expose, to transform. A sword isn’t a symbol of destruction alone; it’s a symbol of decisive action, of courage, of stepping into conflict for the sake of something greater.
Orion rises each winter as a reminder that the heavens themselves understand this rhythm: the warrior stance, the creative heart, the fierce love that fights for what is good.
As I plan to watch Orion climb higher each night, I know I will feel a quiet conviction settle in me. I am looking forward to it. I already feel it now.
I’ve been craving peace lately, peace in my schedule, peace in my mind, peace in my home. But maybe what I’ve really needed is courage. Perhaps the peace I want is on the other side of the decisions I’ve been avoiding. Maybe Jesus isn’t offering me a soft landing; possibly He’s offering me a sword.
Not to harm, but to cut away what no longer belongs.
Not to divide people, but to divide truth from illusion.
Not to destroy, but to make room for new creation—like the stars forming in M42.
The Orion Nebula can serve as a reminder that birth requires upheaval.
Transformation requires pressure. Light requires fire. And the warrior rising in the east reminds me that faith isn’t passive. It’s active. It’s brave. It’s willing to stand, to fight, to choose.
If the sky clears this week, tomorrow evening we will see Jupiter shine brightly in the west, the Moon drifting farther from it. Saturn will bow out early. But Orion, Orion will be there, climbing higher, carrying his nebula like a burning heart.
And I’ll look up again, remembering:
Jesus didn’t come to bring the kind of peace that lets me stay unchanged.
He came to bring the kind of peace that requires a sword, the peace that follows courage, truth, and transformation.
The peace that is worth fighting for.
And under that warrior constellation, with the glow of newborn stars in his chest, I’m learning to welcome that kind of peace.
So until next time, keep looking up!
-g
