Brrrring. Brrrring.

Pluto’s receiver crackled as a signal from Earth wobbled through space. He lifted the handset—an old rotary model popular when science defined him as the ninth planet of the solar system.

“Hello! Pluto speaking!” His voice was chipper. It had been a while since he’d received a call.

A pause. Then a throat cleared. “Uh… hi, Pluto. It’s Earth.”

“Earth! My old friend! What’s the occasion?”

“Well…” Earth hesitated. “I have some news.”

“Good news? A promotion?”

“Not exactly. The International Astronomical Union… they voted. You’re not a planet anymore.”

Silence.

“I—I don’t understand. I’ve always been a planet, science said so.”

Earth sighed. “I know, buddy. But the IAU made new rules. You have to clear your orbit, and Neptune’s gravity influences you too much. They’re calling you a dwarf planet now.”

“A dwarf?” Pluto whispered. “But I orbit the Sun! I have moons! An atmosphere!”

“It’s not about what you have. Science changed its mind.”

Pluto’s temperature, already bitterly cold, seemed to drop further. “So science is always right—until it changes its mind? Was I wrong to trust you, Earth?”

“Pluto—”

“No!” Pluto cut him off. “I was the ninth planet, proof that even the smallest could stand among giants. The furthest away yet included. And now, I’m cast aside?”

Earth was quiet. “It’s not about betrayal. Science learns, and changes, and improves.”

“By deciding I no longer matter?” Pluto scoffed. “If science can change its mind about me, what else might it change?”

“You’re not a footnote.”

“Oh no? Do children still memorize my name as one of the planets? Russ Moe won his 8th grade science fair with a project about me. What do you tell him?”

Earth faltered. “Well….”

Pluto exhaled shakily. “I see.”

The silence between them stretched. Earth finally spoke, his voice soft. “I’m sorry, Pluto.”

Pluto swallowed hard. “So what happens now? Do I just float here, forgotten?”

“Never forgotten. People love you. They fought for you. Schools protested. Scientists argued.”

Pluto didn’t answer. He had always been last, and the smallest, but now he felt rejected.

Earth cleared his throat. “And for what it’s worth… I still consider you part of the family.”

A flicker of warmth touched Pluto’s frozen core. “You mean that?”

“I do.”

Pluto sighed. “I suppose it doesn’t matter what a committee says. I’m still here, orbiting, as I always have.”

“That’s the spirit.”

Pluto smirked. “But I won’t lie—I hope science changes its mind again.”

Earth chuckled. “You never know.”

The line crackled, then went silent.

Pluto gazed out at the endless dark. The stars twinkled back a silent affirmation.

He was still here.

No matter what anyone said.

Science can seem fickle. It’s not always right. With all the breathtaking achievements it also has a track record of midcourse corrections and walk backs on its way to the facts. It doesn’t have all the answers.

But we have a sure foundation in Christ. The judgements of The Lord are true and righteous altogether says Psalm 19:9 KJV. Jeremiah 17:5 says “thus says the Lord, cursed be the man that trusts in man and maketh flesh his arm. . . “KJV. And Psalm 20:7 says, “Some trust in chariots and some in horses but we will remember the name of the Lord our God.”

Whether it’s our dazzling technology, marvelous medical breakthroughs, or new reaches in astronomy, God deserves our ultimate trust. Furthermore, He never changes.

I still have my 8th grade science project in storage, titled “Amazing Pluto: Our Last Great Planet.” It could not win today according to science. But I’m not going to change it.

“Go Pluto!”

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