JT writes:
One of the things I find distressing is the number of people who have ever lived estimated at about 100 billion. It's hard to feel significant if you are part of a group that big. It's a little like being one of Elon Musk's many kids.
I’ve occasionally wondered what it would be like to be part of a larger family. Growing up with just one sibling—a brother I’m very close to—I never felt I needed more. Still, I sometimes wondered what it would be like to have two or three siblings. It might be nice. But thirteen? Most with different mothers? That doesn’t sound appealing. After my parents divorced and remarried other people, I was quietly haunted by the thought they might have more children. That would’ve meant their attention and resources would be diverted from me and my brother. Lack of attention was by far my greatest concern—I would’ve felt less important to my parents with more siblings competing for their limited time and care.
According to the Bible, we don’t have just one, two, or even thirteen siblings—we potentially have billions, almost all with different earthly parents. Though we share the same Heavenly Father and one Brother, Jesus Christ, it’s hard not to feel that God’s attention and resources are stretched thin with so many children. How can we possibly matter in a family that large? Can you even call such a vast group a “family”? Sadly, this seems to echo the feelings many Christians have about being isolated from God and their struggle to cultivate a personal relationship with Him.
I suspect this concern existed even in Old Testament times, when one’s sense of population was perhaps in the hundreds of thousands, not billions. Why else would passages like this appear?
“He determines the number of the stars and calls them each by name.” —Psalm 147:4
This verse in Psalm 147 follows the claim that God “heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds” and precedes the assurance that God is “mighty in power; his understanding has no limit.” If you’ve ever seen a night sky unpolluted by urban lights, the stars seem to number in the hundreds of thousands, though the actual number of visible stars from any point on Earth is about three thousand. Modern people are aware there are an estimated 100 to 400 billion stars in the Milky Way alone and up to 2 trillion galaxies in the observable universe. That makes Psalm 147:4 feel like an “Easter egg” for future readers, those who know the more accurate number of stars is vastly greater than what we can see at night. The point is, if an eternal God, not limited by time or understanding, can know all those stars individually and can deliberately create 100 billion souls, then time and resources are no issue.
Note that Psalm 147:4 doesn’t say God merely counts the stars but that He determines their number and calls each by name. This verse connects to the brokenhearted, implying that God, who deliberately creates and names perhaps one septillion stars (that's a 1 followed by 24 zeros), also determines the number of souls. One hundred billion is a tiny fraction of one septillion—God therefore has no trouble calling each of us by name.
The naming part is significant. One of the first tasks God gave Adam was to name all the animals. Why? Naming established Adam’s earthly dominion over them. More than that, it showed Adam’s role as caretaker, requiring a deep understanding of each creature. Naming in scripture signifies:
Authority
Deep understanding
Personal, caring relationship
These are also hallmarks of the parent-child relationship, and it’s why parents get to name their children. So, when Psalm 147 says God calls the stars by name and pairs this with healing the brokenhearted, it means God not only has authority over His creation—including us—but also deeply understands and cares for us. This idea echoes in the New Testament, too.
In John 10:3, we’re told God “calls his own sheep by name and leads them out” of the gate. He knows each of us personally. This is reinforced in Matthew 10:30 and Luke 12:7: “And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered.” No detail is too small or numerous for God’s notice. Though God cares for all His creation, scripture emphasizes that we are more valuable than anything else on Earth. Matthew 10:30 is bookended by the claim that sparrows, though of little worth in human terms, are not outside God’s care—and we are worth more than many sparrows. This intimate knowledge is beautifully captured in Psalm 139:13-14:
“For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made.”
Or consider Isaiah 49:16:
“See, I [God] have engraved you on the palms of my hands.”
Even in a sea of billions, God doesn't just notice us, He designs and remembers us with that level of detail.
Knowing scripture and the math of astronomy well, I can look at an image like the one below and grasp how God, who created and named every star, can know and love each of His children intimately.
Yet, I think many Christians, especially those who have been wounded by parental neglect, struggle to imagine a God who, despite being outside time and without limits, personally loves and attends to each of the 100 billion souls He created. This feels more like a heart issue than a head issue. I can answer questions like JT’s with scripture, math, and science, but addressing the heart is harder.
Some of you reading this may feel like ordinary people or nobodies, unworthy of God’s notice. But as C.S. Lewis reflected in The Weight of Glory, “There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal.” I truly believe that. With so many people on Earth, it’s easy to feel overlooked; but scripture’s assurances help bridge the gap between knowing God’s capacity and feeling His care. In our digital age, think about how AI systems can process billions of personalized queries in seconds—yet that’s a faint shadow of God’s timeless, limitless attention.
I hope the knowledge that God is fully capable of knowing and caring for each of the 100 billion souls He deliberately created offers at least the possibility of finding peace for those who worry about God’s capacity to love. If that head-knowledge resonates even a little, perhaps try this: Sit under a starry sky and say God’s name to Him and trust that He’s already calling yours back.
Related:
Sunday Superposition #36: God knows your name
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This is very good, thanks!
Well done young lady!