Thoughts on Fireworks, a Week Later
Each summer my family vacations in Estes Park, Colorado. It’s a lovely town nestled between the foothills and the Front Range of the Rocky Mountains. To me, Estes is a second home.
Every two or three years we get spend the Fourth of July in Estes. This is a real treat because Estes throws a great July 4th party. I don’t know how much, but I guarantee that a major portion of the city’s annual budget is set aside for fireworks. Paris, New York and Sidney on New Year’s Eve can’t match the dazzling display that lights up the sky over Estes on a typical July 4th. I mean these guys really go for it. And whenever the Davis clan is in Estes on the 4th, you can be sure we’re down with the rest of the town, watching the fireworks over Lake Estes.
There is, however, another reason that I love watching the July 4th fireworks display in Estes Park, and that is what I call The Real Show. You see, July and August in the Colorado mountains tend to have a very predictable trend: afternoon thunderstorms. With only a few exceptions, summer afternoons in Estes are blessed with a couple of hours of rain, wind, thunder and sometimes hail. You can pretty much bet on it. And most summer evenings, after the storms blow through the mountains, they move right out into the plains over Denver, Fort Collins and Boulder (and even with the fires, this year has been no exception). And that’s usually where they are on July 4th, at 9:30 PM, when the fireworks start over Lake Estes. They’re lighting up the eastern sky with their own fireworks. That’s why I call it The Real Show: because as good as Estes’ July 4th display is, it can’t touch the awesome power and grandeur of a mountain thunderstorm.
I remember the first time I saw The Real Show. I was oohing and aahing with the rest of the town when I noticed the lightning display off in the east. It was almost as if a competition were being held for the best light show. I’ve got to tell you, it was no contest. A beautiful blast of man-made, colorful light would rain down over the lake for a few seconds. Then the entire eastern sky would turn brilliantly white, the lightning illuminating the towering thunder-heads from behind. The effect looked like an entirely new mountain range had been formed over the valley, with peaks soaring up to 30 and 40 thousand feet. Then, horizontal streaks of jagged light would shoot across the sky, like divinely fired lasers that reached for hundreds of miles. And then, back in Estes, there’d be another cute poof and bang along with about 1.7 seconds of color and sparks that topped out at 150 feet above the lake. Like I said–no contest.
I just love it when the best of man pales before the most ordinary work of God. I don’t mean to imply there that anything God does is ordinary, far from it. It’s just that thunderstorms are everyday occurrences. July 4th shows come only once-a-year. Cities and town spend millions annually in preparation for their big bang events that last 20 minutes. And a typical, run-of-the-mill, common thunderstorm (as if there really is such a thing) makes our best fireworks shows look silly.
So, do some comparing of your own. Consider the magnificence of the human eye as opposed to the best lenses man can build, or the human brain versus even the most powerful computers in the world. Look at common sparrow and then an airplane. Listen to the incredible sounds produced by the tiny vocal chords of a parakeet and know that man has no creation that can even come close. Look up at the lights in the sky–the stars at night and the sun during the day–and know that we are powerless to produce anything even worthy of comparison. Then on new years or next July 4, go to your favorite fireworks celebration and ooh and aah with the rest of your town. After about 20 minutes it will be over, but the stars will still be shining up in the heavens; and somewhere, if not over you, a typical, run-of-the-mill, common thunderstorm will be giving The Real Show.
His lightning lights up the world; the earth sees and trembles, Psalm 97:4
