Shooting Stars and Second Chances

A Celestial Take on Grace and Forgiveness

Shooting Stars and Second Chances: A Celestial Take on Grace and Forgiveness

Ever since I was a child, I’ve always been captivated by the night sky. I have one very distinct memory from childhood and our night sky: I was standing outside of my grandmother’s house late one night. She lived alone deep in the Irish countryside. There was no light pollution for miles and miles; I remember soaking in all the stars, wondering what was beyond this world, and how is it all possible? Even then, my young mind understood that there was something about the vastness of it all. The way stars burn bright against the endless dark, a feeling of a whisper from God Himself.

Have you witnessed the sky displaying a streak of shooting stars? Each one a fleeting blaze of glory (I speak more about that in this podcast episode). When I see one, I am reminded about grace, second chances, and the way God takes our brokenness and makes it beautiful.

For years, I carried shame like a second skin. It clung to me, heavy and unyielding, born from mistakes I couldn’t undo and words I couldn’t unsay. I’d lie awake at night, replaying moments where I fell short, where I hurt someone I loved, or where I failed to be the person I knew God created me to be. The weight of it made me feel small, unworthy, like I’d never be more than the sum of my regrets. Psalm 38:4 echoed in my heart: “My guilt has overwhelmed me like a burden too heavy to bear.” I believed I didn’t deserve forgiveness, not from others, not from myself, and certainly not from God.

But standing under a starlit sky, watching fleeting bursts of light, I can feel something shift. Shooting stars don’t last long, but their beauty lingers in the eyes of those who see them. They’re a reminder that even the briefest moments can hold eternal meaning. And isn’t that what grace is? A moment where God’s love pierces through our darkness, fleeting yet transformative, reminding us that we are seen, known, and loved despite our flaws.

My journey to accepting grace wasn’t easy. Shame had convinced me that I had to earn my worth, that I had to scrub away my past before I could stand before God. But the truth is, none of us can earn grace; it’s a gift. Ephesians 2:8-9 says, “For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith, and this is not from yourselves; it is the gift of God—not by works, so that no one can boast.” I had to learn to stop striving and start surrendering, to let go of the lie that my mistakes defined me.

There was a moment, not long ago, when I hit rock bottom. I’d hurt someone I cared about deeply, and the guilt was suffocating. I couldn’t look them in the eye, couldn’t even look at myself in the mirror. I felt like I’d burned every bridge, like I’d run out of chances. But then, in one of the most difficult confessions of my failures, through tears and trembling words, I stepped into the light, and they offered me forgiveness. It wasn’t because I deserved it; it was because they chose to love me anyway. That moment was a shooting star in my life, a fleeting glimpse of what God’s grace looks like in human form. It broke me open, not with shame, but with hope.

That’s when I began to understand second chances. They’re not just about getting another shot at doing things right; they’re about being seen in your entirety, flaws, failures, and all, and being loved anyway. God doesn’t give us second chances because we’ve earned them. He gives them. His love is boundless because He sees the person He created us to be, even when we can’t. Lamentations 3:22-23 says, “Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.”

Overcoming shame meant redefining my self-worth. I had to stop measuring myself by my failures and start seeing myself through God’s eyes. I am not my mistakes. I am a child of God, fearfully and wonderfully made (Psalm 139:14), redeemed by a love that never gives up on me. Every time I doubted my worth, I’d look to the cross, where Jesus took my shame and gave me His righteousness. That’s the beauty of grace; it doesn’t just cover our sins; it transforms us.

Now, when I look at the night sky, I don’t just see stars. I see a canvas of second chances, a reminder that God’s mercy is as vast as the heavens. Each shooting star feels like a promise, a whisper that says, “You are enough, not because of what you’ve done, but because of who I am.” I’ve learned to live in that truth, to embrace the life that comes with being forgiven. It’s a life of freedom, of joy, of knowing that no matter how many times I fall, God’s hand is always there to lift me up.

If you’re carrying shame today, if you feel like you’ve run out of chances, let me tell you this: God’s grace is bigger than your biggest mistakes. His love is deeper than your darkest regrets. You don’t have to earn it, and you can’t outrun it. Just stand still, look up, and let His mercy light up your sky. Like a shooting star, it may feel fleeting, but its impact will last forever.