Since my side of the family has included a fair share from the Columbus end of things, we have frequented the state capital’s annual Red, White & BOOM! Granted, I’ll be the first to admit that Independence Day isn’t my favorite holiday of the year. That probably has more so to do with me being a winter than a summer guy. I’m not overly excited about parades. And I suppose since having a dog, who was frightened over the loud cracklings, for several years, and then children, who supposedly should be in bed at a decent time for world-preservation’s sake, the fireworks observance has fallen by the wayside.
Nevertheless, I still remember when Sarah and I lived in Columbus for one of their Third of July celebrations. In doing our best to avoid the mass sea of humanity in the downtown area, we made the trek from her apartment along the Olentangy River to this random bridge well within sight of the 20 or so minute showcase about to ensue seemingly all over the sky. There was just this little group of us. One guy brought his boombox-like radio. But it was the strangest thing: instead of automatically turning it on and blaring whatever music he had in mind to perfect his own celebratory experience, he asked the rest of us if it was okay to do so.
It doesn’t seem like much, but that little question seemed to make all the difference in creating our own little sense of community on a random bridge amidst what is considered to be the largest fireworks display in all the Midwest. It was a relatively miniscule act of kindness with a little compassion and understanding thrown in, not knowing if others just wanted to listen to the cracklings or engage in conversation or whatever else. It was about fifteen years ago, when tensions didn’t seem to be quite as intense, but there was no way of knowing if all of us on that bridge were on the same page regarding preference on how countries should operate, or religious affiliation, Columbus native or annoying tourist, Buckeye fanatic or apathetic, etc. And yet, there was this random sense of community in that piercing through the settling-in-focus question.
The church continues to do its best to provide that sense of community, knowing full well we’re not on the same page within individual Saturday evening/Sunday morning pew, let alone entire congregations, let alone entire denominations, let alone the entire Christian church, let alone all children of God who the Divine yearns to somehow be miraculously unified in love for each other and the Creation. We know we all have our own ideas regarding church and community and county and state and nation operation. We know we not only have ideas, but strong ones, at that. And as the church attempts to somehow ensure not only coexistence, but boldly active faith-living, we want to make sure we don’t unintentionally set off apathetic mindsets regarding issues of assisting those in need, for starters.
It’s a complicated terrain to be sure, but I would imagine such complications have been around since humanity has come along. Perhaps the complicated terrain is more well broadcasted and further intensified because of it, but I still think back to that random bridge. I think back to a question that seemed to instantly transform a random collection of onlookers into a relatively small but still heartwarming sense of community. I think about such simple questions opening up conversations that could intensify our love-commitment to our own respective community. I think about the brightest displays that will attempt to take over entire vistas in the coming days, and that all the works of fire will not come anywhere near the brightness of hope that still exists in God no matter how bleak the horizon may appear for our portion of humanity. It’s a complicated terrain, to be sure, but we are not called to give up. There’s too much Holy Spirit still firing on all spiritual cylinders within us to ensure the Gospel still gets proclaimed in simple questions and the ensuing music of grace and compassion being unleashed with our words and actions. Somehow, someway, Christ is still risen indeed for a time such as this. Thanks be to God!
In Christ,
Pastor Brad
Image from Columbus and Franklin County Metro Parks (metroparks.net)