Jumping Skyward

The fire’s sparks jump skyward like dancers to the rhythm of a beat I cannot hear. One after another—jumping, jumping, jumping. The constancy reminds me of the order of things, built into the very warp and woof of life. Sparks fly upward. You cannot stop them.

Job saw another truth in the fire’s sparks. “Man is born to trouble as the sparks fly upward” (Job 5:7). From the womb, we are brought forth in iniquity (Ps. 51:5). You cannot stop us.

Sparks don’t last long. As quickly as they rise, they disappear into the night. A rather short life by any measure. Dead, dying, and then gone like a vapor, like a breath on a cold day. Poof! Even the most brilliant of them lasting but seconds.

The Bible says apart from Christ I’m not much more. Pushed upward in birth to a flash-dance of life and then gone. The spark, bright as it may be, was dead even while it was here. Dead in trespasses and sins. Following the course of this world. Captive to the enemy. Dead even while I’m alive.

But there is a surprise in God’s plan, an ironic twist of divine design. “But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ — by grace you have been saved” (Eph. 2:4-5).

Grace. From death to life. From the grave to glory. From an orphan to a child. From consumed to the consuming fire of God’s eternal love. Jumping still. Pushed upward from birth. But no longer destined to flame out. Destined now to endure. Dancing to the rhythm of a beat even the angels hear.