Years ago, a lumpy package arrived in my mailbox. I noticed my best friend’s return address on it and smiled. Joe sometimes sends me unexpected things. This package qualified: Inside was a dark brown shark’s tooth—five inches long.

Joe’s letter explained: It was a fossilized tooth from a prehistoric shark, a megalodon many times bigger than a great white shark. I tried to fathom how big a fish’s jaw would have to be to contain rows of such teeth. Scientists offer a speculative answer: nine by eleven feet. What a sight these creatures must have been!

Scripture doesn’t mention megalodons. But in the book of Job, God describes a sea beast called Leviathan. Job 41 details its impressive frame. “I will not fail to speak of Leviathan’s limbs, its strength and its graceful form,” God tells Job (v. 12). “Who dares open the doors of its mouth, ringed about with fearsome teeth?” (v. 14).

The answer? Only Leviathan’s creator. And here, God reminds Job that as great as this beast might be, it’s nothing compared to its Creator: “Everything under heaven belongs to me” (v. 11).

That meg tooth sits on my desk, a visual token of our Creator’s majesty and creativity. And that unlikely reminder of God’s character comforts me when it feels like the world might eat me up and spit me out.