Total Eclipse of the Sun

For a long, long time, we have known that we would have the opportunity to be part of something special - the Great American Eclipse, a total eclipse that spanned from the Pacific coast to the Atlantic coast. In Wilsonville, we were to have 99.96% totality! Incredible!

It was promised to be incredible! a traffic apocalypse! an unforgettable experience! There were people who have been planning on being on the coast, where the eclipse would first start, near Bend in large gatherings, or many other places along the route. While Dani wasn't sure she wanted to deal with traffic, Jared had decided that he was going to totality, even if it meant riding his bike over the I-5 bridge over the Wilamette. In the end, traffic wasn't bad at all, so we went down to Barendse Park in Hubbard, just 15 minutes south. Ryan and Jessica came to join us!

 

Our tale of getting eclipse glasses was kind of hilarious. Jared ended up waiting too long and needing to scramble to find some. He finally found some at some random store (for way too much $!) and buying them. But then, he got more from work! So he ended up selling his extras - for less $. Buy high, sell low!

 

One family nearby had poked some holes spelling 2017 in some cardboard, and the sun shining through made the crescent shapes with the moons covering the sun. Also, very cool was the way the light shone through the gaps in the leaves - all showing the shape of the moon's shadow in front of the sun.

The minute plus of totality were completely surreal. First, it started getting darker, but in a way that was different than sunset in that the colors didn't seem to change, as it does at sunset. After that, the temperature started rapidly cooling to the point where it felt honestly cool. The shadows faded, and we just stood there, gawking at the sun. When full totality happened, the diamond shape at the edge was spectacular! 

Afterwards, we kept finding places to go look at the sun and the moon in its path. The partial eclipse started just after 9:00 AM, with full totality at 10:19, and partial totality ending at 11:38. We spent many of these hours in awe of the celestial event above us.

 

It felt like a once in a lifetime event (though we've already planned to go to the next big one in 2024!).

The words of a BYU-Idaho professor rang very true in describing my experience with the eclipse

I had read all the hype, and I had a hard time imagining there was any way a total solar eclipse could live up to so much promotion and praise. One account was so effusive that even my young nephew dismissed it by saying, “It had too many superlatives.” Surely nothing could be that good. 

If I had not lived plop in the middle of the zone of totality in Rexburg, Idaho, I don’t know that I would have traveled far to see it. When I mentioned it to my brother a month ago, remarkably enough, he hadn’t even heard about it yet. But before I could even say anything about it, he said, “It seems like every eclipse that comes along is supposed to be the only time in the next 57 years you’ll be able to see something like it.” He hadn’t been that impressed with what he’d seen in the past, so he wasn’t interested in driving a couple of hours north to reach the zone of totality for this eclipse. 

I don’t fault him. If I were him, I might well have looked at a map and figured, “I’ll just stay here and see 75% of the eclipse and get 75% of the benefits. Why go all that way just to see the sun all the way covered?” 

But with solar eclipses, I learned vividly and personally today, there is a world of difference between even 98% of an eclipse and 100%. We watched with interest and amusement during the partial phases of the eclipse, but right up until a few moments before we witnessed the total eclipse, it seemed like not much more than a pleasant astronomical quirk visible only with special protective glasses. 

But as the moon began to totally cover the sun and we witnessed the diamond ring and the corona visible only with a total solar eclipse, I was absolutely blown away. I thought I would remain calm, but I couldn’t keep the emotions I felt inside. And neither could most of the people around me. As one writer had predicted, it was as if it touched something deeply primal within us. No photograph or video I’ve seen of this spectacular phenomenon does justice to it. It is simply the most amazing thing I have ever seen. 

Afterwards, my nephew volunteered to his mother: "Now I know why they used so many superlatives."Despite all the hype, we discovered a total solar eclipse had not been overrated. 

As a follower of Jesus Christ, this experience has reminded me of three important lessons. First, heaven is not overhyped; eternal life will be worth every sacrifice we could possible make to partake of it. 

In one of my otherwise favorite songs by Train, the singer asks of a friend returning from some kind of cosmic journey, “Did you make it to the Milky Way to see the lights all faded and that heaven is overrated?” Just as my brother assumed a total eclipse had been oversold, much of the world today has come to believe heaven is not real or that it can’t be all that. They doubt the reality of an eternal existence with God so exquisite that Peter described it as becoming “partakers of the divine nature” (2 Peter 1:4). I believe that one day, everyone will be as convinced of the desirability of eternal life with God as those who witnessed the total eclipse today were of its stunning glory. 

Second, I was reminded that there is a dramatic difference between the blessings that come from sort of following the gospel of Jesus Christ—being in the zone of partiality—and striving to following Him and His teachings with all our hearts—the zone of totality. One of the reasons my brother and I underestimated how rewarding the total eclipse would be is that we based our estimates on what we’d witnessed in prior partial eclipses. But a total eclipse isn’t just twice as beautiful as an eclipse where the moon covers half the son; it is exponentially better. 

And so are the blessings that come from living in the zone of spiritual totality. I’m not talking about a place where we are perfect, and I’m certainly not talking about a condition we achieve through our own efforts alone. But I am referring to a state of mind and heart where we jump in with our whole souls, holding nothing back but relying on Christ to realize our divine potential. The blessings of spiritual coronas and diamond rings come not to those who merely go through the motions and occasional effort it takes to reach the zone of partiality; they come to those who yield their hearts and souls to God in the zone of spiritual totality. 

Finally, now that I know what a rare and exquisite experience a total solar eclipse is, I regret terribly the fact that I didn’t try to persuade my brother and his family and all my siblings and children who lived elsewhere to join us. What a terrible waste it was to have a home located in the heart of the zone of totality with only 5 guests. I wish I’d been more like some of our neighbors, who had family members and friends stuffed into every bed and couch and spilling over onto their lawns. 

For those of us who have lived the gospel of Jesus Christ enough to know just how exquisite its blessings are, there is a special responsibility to find ways to help others come to understand or even consider the possibility that it will be eternally worth the sacrifice to come to the zone of spiritual totality. 

For me, in some small way, glimpsing the silvery brilliance of the corona today felt like a symbolic foreshadowing of what it might be like to dwell eternally in the presence of God—in a place with “no need of the sun, neither of the moon, to shine in it: for the glory of God did lighten it, and the Lamb is the light thereof” (Rev. 21:23). Even more than I will strive to persuade my loved ones and friends to go witness the next total solar eclipse visible in the United States in 2024, I feel inspired to do all I can to help others know that heaven is real and that moving to the zone of spiritual totality is eternally worth it. We cannot use enough superlatives to describe it.