My Fascination with Fireworks

Why am I so fascinated with fireworks? Especially on a warm summer's eve with just the right amount of breeze blowing through my hair.

Maybe my reasons are the same as yours...

Fireworks evoke feelings. They are loud and sometimes scary. Your body shakes, your chest pounds, your eyes pop, your ears ring, your nose smells, and your heart remembers back to times before when you sat underneath a dark sky...with your parents, your friends, your first love. They make you wonder. They are mysterious, marvelous. They are special, they make you feel special, and smile...

They broaden your mind for a quarter of an hour, maybe more...to something bigger than yourself. Their loudness, their bigness makes you dream, wish, even dare to hope...and maybe you'll leave ready to do something you thought was impossible before. Because who would've thought something as brilliant as this could light up the sky?

"God can do anything, you know--far more than you could ever imagine or guess or request in your wildest dreams!" Eph. 3:20a

eating the mystery

About 15 years ago, my Aunt Ruby gave us a simple jar with little slips of paper which we were supposed to use to write down ways that God provided for us, big or small. The beauty of this would be that over time, we could pull these slips of paper out and remember, give thanks. It is called a manna jar.

I've always thought this jar was a wonderful idea, but until recently did not realize how crucial this concept of giving thanks actually is to the life of a believer. Why? Because remembering with thanks is what causes us to trust--to really believe. Brennan Manning says, "The foremost quality of a trusting disciple is gratefulness."

I'm currently reading Ann Voskamp's book One Thousand Gifts and being steadily convinced that gratitude breeds trust. That most of the lack of joy in my life is caused by my lack of trust in the goodness of God. But by counting the blessings in my life, I will discover Who can be counted on.

Even in the dark moments when remembering doesn't kindle a grateful heart, but rather a wounded heart. Even then. I have one memory that covers them all. Christ. "He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all--how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things?" (Romans 8:32) To use Ann Voskamp's words...If God didn't withhold from us His very own Son, will God withhold anything we need? How will He not also graciously give us all things He deems best and right? The counting of all blessings is ultimately summed up in One.

So, my manna jar gives me the perspective of years. I can remember and give thanks. And this feeds my trust. And likewise, my joy. And I eat the manna, that mysterious provision from God that gives me life.

"For really, as long as I live, travel, is there ever anything else to eat? I either take the 'what is it?' manna with thanks, eat the mystery of the moment with trust, and am nourished another day--or refuse it...and die. Jesus calls me to surrender and there's nothing like releasing fears and falling into peace. It terrifies, true. But it exhilarates. This, this is what I've always wanted and never knew: this utter trust, this enlivening fall of surrender into the safe hands. There is no joy without trust!" (Ann Voskamp)