My brother Rob and I loved fireworks. Every year in mid June, we would go visit his friend Elwood on a dirt road just south of Bridgewater, Michigan. 

Elwood lived a simple life, but had the mind of an entrepreneur who had nailed his market. He would place an annual order for a shipping container about half the size of a semi full of the finest fireworks directly from China, and load it up into a trailer on an obscure corner of his acreage. 

It remained out of the line of sight from the road (and any sheriff’s deputy happening to drive by); but every fireworks lover within 20 miles knew where to be. Rob and I would always show up a day or two before Independence Day after the big waves of buyers had come through. By then, there was still plenty of stock; but Elwood had adjusted the prices down to start shrinking inventory.

Elwood had two simple, but firm rules: Cash Only and No Smoking. We were already prepared with cash in hand, so Rob would snuff out his ubiquitous Camel cigarette at the car. Then we would reverently walk the hundred or so yards to Elwood’s trailer, gleefully anticipating the bright lights and very large booms that were soon to come.

I will long cherish the anticipation of lighting the fuse, running at a speed proportional to the length of the fuse, watching the lift charge pop the shell into the sky, and experiencing who-knows-what kind of dangerous beauty that would result.

With every salvo, we were captivated by the fascination: the seemingly insignificant fire of our trusty Zippo lighter began a process so potentially dangerous, but so beautiful at the same time. A five second fuse unleashed breathtaking creativity and jarring energy – in an instant. 

Small power unleashed very big power. And if you did it right, you could somehow keep your eyes and extremities safe from the explosion of gunpowder and violent chemicals burning at over fifteen hundred degrees.

A couple of close calls and my daughter’s fear of loud noises have put my fireworks days behind me – even as the nostalgia of those young and often foolish years lingers.

Nowadays, part of my calling is to de-fuse fireworks – not light them. 

As much as we long for the “fireworks“ at the beginning of a relationship (especially romantic), it’s interesting to note that the meaning changes over time until fireworks in a relationship is generally bad news. It doesn’t happen overnight. The ammunition is generally gathered and stored up over months or years…

• Personal dreams and desires that go unspoken, but somehow turn into expectations anyway.
• Disappointments and frustrations that go unprocessed and unresolved.
• Hurts that eventually sour into the venom of bitterness and contempt – or worse, indifference.

All of that explosive power builds up. And then with a seemingly insignificant exchange or thoughtless word, the fuse is lit.

And then, as sure as lighting up a cigarette in the middle of Elwood’s trailer…

Devastation.

Regretful words and actions that are hard or impossible to take back…

…and collateral damage to everyone within reach and beyond.

Couples come to me broken in half and ready to call an attorney; because the pain of repairing the damage can feel insurmountable.

But there is another choice; and the good news is that small power can also unleash big power toward healing and reconciliation. However, unlike the immediate rush of fireworks, it takes time and intentionality; but the return on the effort is immeasurable.

My favorite paraphrase of one of Jesus’ Beatitudes from the Sermon on the Mount makes it clear: 

Blessed are the de-escalators, for others will recognize them as God‘s beloved co-conspirators. ~ Matthew 5:9

But what does that look like in real life? 

To extend the fireworks metaphor: Keep your fuses long, and your store of explosives small.

Longer Fuses

A person who is quick to anger is often described as having a “short fuse“, right? What if there were ways that you could make that fuse longer?

God is often described in the Old Testament as slow to anger, and God being God doesn’t let us off the hook to emulate him. James makes just that challenge in his letter:

Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry, because human anger does not produce the righteousness that God desires. ~ James 1:19b–20 NIV

James wouldn’t make so bold and broad a challenge if it were unattainable; and the solution (at least in part) is baked right into the challenge: Listen more, Talk less. 

We’ll spend more time on this soon; but training yourself to take a moment, remembering your truest identity as a beloved child of God and responding out of that reality is the first step in defusing the anger we all carry and makes conflict resolution more effective.

Fewer Explosives

I’ve already touched on this. Disappointments and resentment may start small; but when they’re allowed to pile up, they feed on each other and eventually take on a life of their own – often drafting us as unwitting conspirators in the infinite do-loop of quiet contempt and recrimination.

Nothing corrodes a relationship faster. Jesus knew it and went to great pains to challenge us, putting it front and center in the Sermon on the Mount:

Therefore, if you are offering your gift at the altar and there remember that your brother or sister has something against you, leave your gift there in front of the altar. First go and be reconciled to them; then come and offer your gift. ~ Matthew 5:23–24 NIV

Jesus told us to prioritize addressing relational rifts over liturgy – reconciliation over religious activity – because as we repair our relationships with others, we naturally move closer to God.

The friction of human relationships is real; so why are we letting the hurt lay around, unaddressed, like a box of dynamite in the living room?

Act!

Start small. Get help from someone who knows what they’re doing to teach and encourage you, if need be. But act. Together. If you need encouragement, this podcast can give you a place to start. It has good insights whether you subscribe to the existence of God or not.

As Rob and I left with the season’s load of excitement, Elwood would always remind us that fireworks were meant to be lit and enjoyed one at a time – not all at once. 

And as you pursue mutual healing in your relationships, you may decide – together – that some don’t need to be lit at all. 

And the result is something more eternally beautiful than any fireworks show.

Wishing you a great Independence Day – and healthier relationships. I’m cheering you along and here to help.