“The Quiet Strength of the Flicker”

“And they that be wise shall shine as the brightness of the firmament; and they that turn many to righteousness as the stars for ever and ever.”

— Daniel 12:3

Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are. This simple line captures a profound truth about humanity’s yearning to understand identity and purpose. The twinkle is more than a shimmer; it is the soul’s fragile yet persistent light, refusing to be extinguished even when surrounded by the night’s darkness. It is resilience, the refusal to let despair define us. The star? It is you. It is me. It is every soul struggling to be seen, to be known, to matter.

Up above the world so high, the star’s height symbolizes the isolation of purpose. To be set apart, to shine, often feels like being distanced from others, suspended in a vast, lonely space. The star shines not for itself but for others who look to it for guidance. Yet who sees the star? This question echoes the silent cry of so many—children who misbehave to gain attention, individuals who strive for perfection only to remain invisible, broken souls yearning for acknowledgment. To be unseen, despite every effort to twinkle, is a wound that cuts deep.

Like a diamond in the sky, the star’s brilliance comes from pressure, from being refined in darkness. The diamond is not born shining; it is formed through immense heat and crushing force. So, too, are we shaped by the pain of broken relationships, broken promises, broken hearts, and even broken minds. Yet, the twinkle remains, defying the brokenness, declaring that light can still emerge from the cracks. Twinkle in brokenness. Twinkle after betrayal. Twinkle even when your world falls apart.

A star shines brightest when the night is darkest. This is not a call to pretend the darkness doesn’t exist or to suppress pain. It is an invitation to let the light of your soul—your love, your kindness, your faith—pierce the darkness. Even in the bleakest of moments, your twinkle can guide someone else, just as the star led wise men to the promised Messiah. The twinkle is not about perfection; it is about persistence. It is not about denying hurt but choosing not to let hurt define you.

Twinkle when your mind feels fragmented, when hope feels like a distant memory, when faith is fragile. Twinkle, not because you have to, but because your light—no matter how faint—can be the spark that leads others to safety, healing, and truth. In a world obsessed with being seen, the star does not demand attention. It simply shines, secure in its purpose, whether noticed or not. And yet, to the One who created the stars, you are always seen.

How I wonder what you are. This wonder is not just a question but an invitation to rediscover your value. You are not just a speck in the universe; you are a masterpiece of light, formed by the Creator to illuminate the lives of others. Your twinkle matters, even when no one acknowledges it. It is not the applause of the crowd but the quiet assurance of purpose that sustains the star.

So, twinkle, little star. Twinkle in your brokenness. Twinkle in your healing. Twinkle as a reminder that even in the darkest night, the smallest light can lead the way. Twinkle, not because the world needs your perfection, but because it needs your authenticity. You are a diamond in the sky, forged by fire, polished by pain, shining with a purpose that even the darkness cannot overshadow.

-Jermy Arnold