God and fireworks

There's nothing quite like an explosion -- especially an unexpected one -- to get your attention.

A couple of Saturday evenings ago, I was in the church’s fellowship hall printing out the bulletins for the following day’s service, when suddenly I heard something that sounded like artillery fire.

I looked out one of the rear windows, and caught the glow of fireworks. They were staging the fireworks display on the Savannah River in honor of Armed Forces Day.

I finished up what I was doing. Then I walked outside. And instead of heading home, I walked a block or so down Ellis Street – so I could get a better view of the fireworks display, which was still going on.

Every now and then, an especially loud boom would set off burglar alarms. You’d hear the explosion – and then you’d hear this sound like your alarm clock going off in the morning. Except you could hear it from several blocks away.

Some of the kids at a little music hall behind the church were outside, too, watching. And down on the sidewalk behind the Georgia Labor Department, a small group of teenage girls sat and watched – and listened.

And not far from where I was standing, an older gentleman stood – and watched – and listened. And we all took in the fireworks.

It didn’t matter how old any of us were. Our gender didn’t matter. It didn’t matter where we had been or how we had gotten to where we were. It didn’t matter how much money any of us made. Those fireworks were there for everybody. All you had to do was look up – and watch – and listen.

That’s how it is with God’s love. It’s there for everybody. All you need to do is look up. And listen.