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"Two things fill the mind with ever-increasing wonder and awe,
the starry heavens above me and the moral law within me"
In Immanuel Kant’s famous words above, we find a truth both stirring and profound. Kant identifies the night sky and the sense of morality as two things that reveal the vastness and the mystery of our existence. But he also implies something more: both the cosmos and the moral compass inside us speak of an origin greater than ourselves. The order in the universe and the sense of right and wrong within us do not come from us, yet they define us. For me, this is one of the reasons I believe in objective morality—a moral law that is not subject to individual preference or societal consensus but is embedded in our being, given by a moral lawgiver.
As a young boy, I often found myself awestruck by the stars. Looking up from the small garden in my Scottish neighbourhood, I wondered what it all meant, feeling an inexplicable sense of reverence for the vast stretches of stars, each seemingly unchanging yet moving in perfect order. It was my first encounter with something beyond the everyday, a humbling reminder of my smallness. I could not have articulated it then, but I sensed that the stars spoke of something powerful and intentional. Later, when I began studying the Bible, I found words for that feeling. Scripture tells us, “The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands” (Psalm 19:1). The universe, both grand and orderly, seemed to bear witness to something beyond itself—something beyond me.
At that time, I also began experiencing the pull of another kind of law, one I couldn’t escape even if I wanted to: the moral law within. No one had to tell me that some things were wrong—hurting others, taking what wasn’t mine, dishonouring my parents; they all seemed wrong before I knew why. Even without knowing God, my conscience spoke with a clarity that required no outside approval. But unlike the laws of nature, the moral law demanded something from me: it required my response. Over time, I came to understand this law not as a collection of cultural rules but as something embedded within me, pointing to a higher standard that existed beyond human opinion.
Reflecting on Kant’s words, I find that both the heavens and the moral law point us in the same direction. The stars obey physical laws, while we are subject to moral ones. Just as the planets follow their orbit in accordance with the laws of gravity, so, too, do I believe we are called to follow a moral law written into the fabric of our being. If gravity and physics testify to the order of the natural world, then the moral law testifies to the order that should govern our hearts.
For many people today, the idea of objective morality is a stumbling block. Our culture values individual freedom and autonomy, and people often believe that morality is relative or subjective. Yet even in the most liberal societies, there is still an understanding of justice, kindness, and fairness. Certain principles—like the value of human life, or the wrongness of murder and betrayal—transcend cultures and religions. To me, this universal understanding points toward an objective morality, a standard that is unchanging regardless of circumstances or opinion.
The need for objective morality became real to me in times when I saw profound injustice or felt the ache of someone else’s suffering. If morality were simply a construct, then every moral outrage would be nothing more than a personal irritation or an arbitrary preference. But my conscience tells me otherwise. When faced with injustice, I know that something greater is being violated, something more than just my own feelings. The injustice itself, the wrong, exists independently of how I feel about it. It is not a construct, but a reality that demands a response, whether we like it or not.
For me, objective morality is not only real but necessary. Without it, there would be no ground for judgment, no reason to expect others to act justly or kindly. Without it, we could not cry out against injustice or celebrate goodness, because those ideas would lack substance. My belief in objective morality affirms that life, dignity, and integrity are not simply useful or preferred; they are good because they reflect the nature of the One who made us.
To believe in objective morality is also to believe that there is a purpose for human beings beyond survival or pleasure. Our moral sense points us toward something—or Someone—who has written His laws within us. Like the stars that proclaim His power, the moral law within us whispers of His nature: just, loving, and pure. To ignore this inner law is, in a way, to ignore our very selves.
Perhaps this is why Kant’s words resonate with me so deeply. They remind me that both the starry heavens and the moral law are not ours to control; they are there to be observed, to humble us, and to remind us of something greater. Both reveal that we are part of a created order, called to live not for our own desires but in response to the truth placed within us. And it is this truth—the objective reality of right and wrong—that I believe points us home.
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