Source of light

I was in New York City this weekend, dealing with some logistical things and visiting people and taking a break. One of the directors I'm working with asked if I was going to go to Central Park to see the fireworks. Nope, I said. I did not leave Brooklyn at all on July 4th. I went to a BBQ in the late afternoon, had a couple of glasses of sangria, saw people I hadn't seen in months, ate good food, relaxed. Then a group of us walked through Bushwick to another friend's place... where, after eating MORE good food, we rushed to the roof after the sun set to see what we could see.

The roof was full--many people from that building had decided to party on the roof that night, but it was not at all overcrowded. But rather, there was a buzz from people and excitement and celebration. Two of the residents of the building formed a band, and were playing live music there on that random roof in Brooklyn. And there were guerilla fireworks going off everywhere. Every direction we looked. Despite the "Fireworks are Illegal" signs that had been posted everywhere, people were gathering in the streets to shoot rockets into the sky out of celebration. Not really a patriotic celebration, but rather a celebration of LIFE. Of existing, of being alive and able to celebrate in that moment.

And that is how I spent the 4th of July. Sitting on a rooftop in Bushwick, with good music, good food, and good company, talking about art and how we graduates are moving forward and how grateful we are for what we learned and how useful and important it is, with a panoramic view of fireworks that were not designed to be impressive, but instead recklessly set off in pure joy of living.

I don't see how anyone with eyes could possibly limit God to a church building, when He's staring us in the face so obviously.