Fireworks, Directing a Band, and Gomer

I really love fireworks, even if the dust/fog they create makes me cough.

The anticipation as a yellow comet squeals into the air, then it hangs for a tiny moment, silent and still before blossoming with a loud boom into an explosion outward of one color, often followed by a downward shower of another. Once the streaks of light have dissipated, the sky is left with charcoal scars and I find my mouth hanging slightly open in awe.  And I have the joy of knowing I will see it all over again just as amazing only a little different when the next firework is set off.

Over and over again.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

Our community band had their annual pre-fireworks concert for the city 4th of July celebration a few days ago. I am not required to attend most of the performances we put on (the community band is under the umbrella of my work place) but if just isn't a 4th of July without sweating in the heat and listening to The Stars and Stripes Forever or The Washington Post March. Besides, it offered me a front row seat for photographing the fireworks and I was not about to turn that down.

While the band was preparing their lips for Under the Double Eagle the director, who also happens to be my boss, turned to the crowd and asked, "How many of you have ever wondered what it would be like to stand up here and wave a stick around like I do?" In an effort to encourage audience participation I raised my hand.

I was not aware of this but my boss had apparently informed the band she was gong to call up a random audience member to direct on one of the easier songs. And since she didn't recognize me, guess which "random" hand she picked.

So yes, much to my consternation, I directed our band.

And my career in that particular field began and ended there.

Also, I am sure a few select band members will not let me forget that I  apparently conducted the 2/4 song backwards by having my hand in the second beat position on beat one. What can I say? My weapon of choice is a violin bow, not a baton.

I read Ezekiel 1 recently. Starting in verse 26 the prophet does his best to describe what God looks like when seated on His heavenly throne. It's a terrifying image. Fire, gleaming metal, rainbows? (Way more awesome than any fireworks show!) Not exactly the type of person I dream of cuddling up to. For some reason it struck me extra hard this time how unfathomably powerful and holy the Lord is. To some this might inspire worship and adoration but to my shock I felt more like crawling in a hole somewhere and curling up in the fetal position. I didn't feel thankful for His love and grace in over looking my sins. Instead I felt dirty, terrified and a strong urge to run away. Gomer, the harlot wife of Hosea the prophet came to mind.

She was bought out of her immorality by a good man who made her his wife and cared for her. Yet she couldn't seem to handle his love. She fled. And he went after her. Not in anger, but with commitment.

The thought of this terrifying God loving me with that passion and devotion is rather uncomfortable. I don't feel worthy of it. And being the stubborn prideful person I am, I don't like to accept things I don't deserve.

But for people like me that may be part of our sanctification. Learning to accept with thanksgiving things from our spotlessly holy Savior and not allowing our own feelings of unrighteousness to keep us from coming to Him.