It Only Takes A Spark
Stories
Lectionary Tales For The Pulpit
Series IV, Cycle A
When the day of Pentecost had come, they were all together in one place. And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them. (vv. 1--3)
Several years ago, God lit a match under me and led me to volunteer as a junior high counselor for my denomination's summer camp. I'd done a little youth ministry work before, but nothing could have prepared me for that week.
Our curriculum for the camp focused on the Christian liturgical year. We wanted youth to understand better the church's worship cycle and connect it with their faith.
As was expected, the week was very inspirational. Everything went along as planned - until the final evening. That night was Advent according to our curriculum. We worshiped in an open--air tabernacle and had an Advent wreath in the front on a small wooden utility table.
To close the service, we lit the wreath's candles. We watched the flames flicker as we held hands, formed a circle, and sang a closing song. Emotions ran high with the anticipation of the coming Christ--child and with our departure from camp the next day.
It was our group's tradition to end each camp with a bonfire, so our circle of worshipers became a straight line as we silently walked hand--in--hand out of the tabernacle. The bonfire was at the end of a canyon about 300 wooded yards away, and we headed there in a spirit of worship.
As usual, tears flowed while we burned 3 x 5 cards containing messages to God. Afterward, as we walked back to the main part of the camp, I spotted the two senior high camp's deans in front of the tabernacle. They looked like parents waiting for a curfew breaking teenager to pull into the driveway. The look in their eyes could have melted plastic.
As I got closer, I understood why. The table that had held the Advent wreath was black, and the wreath was an unrecognizable circular glob. A radio and a slide projector for sing--along slides were also on the table. At least that's what they used to be.
My first thought - maybe a hopeful prayer - was that it was a very elaborate practical joke. But then I looked at the rafters five feet above the table. They were charred and burned halfway through.
Yes, in the midst of a highly emotional and inspirational worship service, no one blew out the Advent candles. The candles burned down, the wreath and table caught on fire, and the boombox and slide projector melted.
Luckily, the senior high deans played firefighters before any more damage was done. Everything on the table was destroyed except for two items that were untouched. The first was a copy of the camp curriculum. The table was charred up to the book.
The other item was a sing--along slide. When we removed it from the deformed carriage, we held it up to the light to read it. It was from the song "Pass It On," and it read, "It only takes a spark." We knew that.
(Reprinted by permission, Group Magazine, Copyright 1993, Group Publishing, Inc., Box 481, Loveland, CO 80539.)
Several years ago, God lit a match under me and led me to volunteer as a junior high counselor for my denomination's summer camp. I'd done a little youth ministry work before, but nothing could have prepared me for that week.
Our curriculum for the camp focused on the Christian liturgical year. We wanted youth to understand better the church's worship cycle and connect it with their faith.
As was expected, the week was very inspirational. Everything went along as planned - until the final evening. That night was Advent according to our curriculum. We worshiped in an open--air tabernacle and had an Advent wreath in the front on a small wooden utility table.
To close the service, we lit the wreath's candles. We watched the flames flicker as we held hands, formed a circle, and sang a closing song. Emotions ran high with the anticipation of the coming Christ--child and with our departure from camp the next day.
It was our group's tradition to end each camp with a bonfire, so our circle of worshipers became a straight line as we silently walked hand--in--hand out of the tabernacle. The bonfire was at the end of a canyon about 300 wooded yards away, and we headed there in a spirit of worship.
As usual, tears flowed while we burned 3 x 5 cards containing messages to God. Afterward, as we walked back to the main part of the camp, I spotted the two senior high camp's deans in front of the tabernacle. They looked like parents waiting for a curfew breaking teenager to pull into the driveway. The look in their eyes could have melted plastic.
As I got closer, I understood why. The table that had held the Advent wreath was black, and the wreath was an unrecognizable circular glob. A radio and a slide projector for sing--along slides were also on the table. At least that's what they used to be.
My first thought - maybe a hopeful prayer - was that it was a very elaborate practical joke. But then I looked at the rafters five feet above the table. They were charred and burned halfway through.
Yes, in the midst of a highly emotional and inspirational worship service, no one blew out the Advent candles. The candles burned down, the wreath and table caught on fire, and the boombox and slide projector melted.
Luckily, the senior high deans played firefighters before any more damage was done. Everything on the table was destroyed except for two items that were untouched. The first was a copy of the camp curriculum. The table was charred up to the book.
The other item was a sing--along slide. When we removed it from the deformed carriage, we held it up to the light to read it. It was from the song "Pass It On," and it read, "It only takes a spark." We knew that.
(Reprinted by permission, Group Magazine, Copyright 1993, Group Publishing, Inc., Box 481, Loveland, CO 80539.)
