It Only Takes a Spark

But it actually takes more than that. Here's why.

Does the news or the happenings outside of your home bring overwhelm and a sense of heartache you can’t shake?

“Just tune it out,” some say. “Hunker down and focus on your family and circle of friends. Invest your time and energy there and do the best good you can.”

I can’t hunker down and tune out the world. If I’m totally transparent and honest, that advice unsettles me even more. It’s given with the best of intention—in articles from people I respect, over coffee or in conversations with people I love, and even in whispers from corners of my own mind. But it feels like saying, “Focus on YOU, and don’t worry about the others.”

Tune it out. Or can you?

It feels better not to have to face anything but my own challenges. It feels righteous to invest in protecting my own, the people I love, and comforts my unrest to believe that if I make a difference here, it will radiate into the other spheres of life. One little spark will become a blaze, right?

Except it won’t. And here’s why.

I have been in “safe” circles for my whole life that build walls around ourselves to the point that the influence doesn’t reach beyond us. We feed and nurture our own and flippantly offer to pray for those outside of our fortress. But I became numb to their needs because I tuned out the news, invested in friendships within the fortress, and convinced myself that if there were a crack in the barriers, it would let evil into the safe place.

I carelessly tossed a few embers outside of the circle to feel better about myself. Still catch myself doing it, if I’m honest! It’s a learning process, and midlife has given me an opportunity to shake up longheld ideas.

Photo by Gleb Lukomets on Unsplash

But a flame kept carefully contained inside a campfire circle with high walls and comfortable seats loses its connection with the outside world. The fortress doesn’t only protect; it isolates. It focuses on our needs, preferences, and safety. Resources, energy, and attention devoted to my small circle detach me from the world beyond my people. Sparks do nothing but dissipate like glowing whisps of ashes on the wind with no tinder.

I had a lot to say about what people outside of church should do but had no idea what their real needs were. Had lots to say about how someone should vote or what was scary about Washington, DC, but had no idea what really went on there. Had opinions about everyone’s moral choices.

If all warmth and light are directed inward and all kindling stays in that fire, it offers a lovely connection with one another—all cozy and quaint. But it keeps the spark contained.

I believe in my heart the words of the song I sang years ago around youth group campfires about one spark and God’s love and how it could get a spiritual fire going. But…

It takes more than a spark.

Photo by Warren on Unsplash

Look outside the walls.

The pain and injustice in the news—stories of suffering, loss, and systemic issues—are too easy to scroll past or tune out, especially when engaging with them feels overwhelming or uncomfortable. The self-preservation of containing our fires is a way to guard our hearts and minds against the weight of the world’s brokenness. But in doing so, we risk numbing ourselves to the very compassion that Christ calls us to embody. Compassion cannot be reserved only for those within the safety of our cozy circle.

Ignoring current events in politics, for example, might feel like a way to avoid conflict or maintain peace in our own lives. But bills and executive orders impact real people—vulnerable communities, the oppressed, the marginalized. When we choose not to engage, we unintentionally allow things like injustice to continue unchecked.

While Jesus didn’t get involved in the government, he also never modeled a life of isolation or selective compassion. He moved toward the uncomfortable, the messy, and the broken. He didn’t close his eyes to suffering; he stepped into it. His heart broke for the vulnerable, the sick, and the oppressed, and he calls us to do the same.

Isolation and fortressing can look like this:

1. Withdrawing from neighborhoods and communities
   Living in insulated, affluent neighborhoods or bypassing the struggles of the communities we drive through. This isolation can lead to a lack of understanding or investment in the issues facing those communities, such as poverty, lack of resources, or systemic injustices.

2. Focusing solely on church-based ministries
   What happens when we pour time, energy, and resources exclusively into church-based activities or programs that primarily serve members of our church congregation? While these ministries are valuable, they can overshadow opportunities to engage with other organizations or initiatives that serve broader, diverse communities.

3. Avoiding hard conversations about injustice
   Shying away from engaging with topics like racism, immigration, or inequality, labeling them as “too political,” “woke,” or divisive isolates us. By doing so, we miss the opportunity to stand alongside the oppressed and advocate for justice, a theme deeply embedded in Scripture.

4. Disengaging from public schools
   Sending our own children to Christian schools or homeschooling (decisions often made with good intentions) while also not caring about children who attend public schools or supporting measures that take away funding can make it more difficult for schools to provide a good education. This can sometimes lead to villainizing public schools and ignoring the vital role they play in serving children from all backgrounds. This disengagement not only isolates Christians from opportunities to be a light within the public education system but also overlooks the chance to support teachers, students, and families who rely on these schools as a critical resource.

But it doesn’t have to be this way.

Carry the spark.

Jesus calls us to step out of our comfort zones and into the needs of others. What if we saw the stories in the news not as burdens to carry alone but as calls to prayer and action? What if we chose to listen, engage, and allow our hearts to break for the things that break God’s heart? What if we cared equally about our children’s education and that of the kids who live in the neighborhood?

So here’s my challenge: What is one way you can step outside your campfire circle this month? What need, issue, or person can you lean into with prayer, time, or resources? What topic will you discuss with someone else for the sake of learning more and awakening compassion, love, and goodwill? Don’t let the spark stay contained—let it grow into a light that brings warmth and hope to those who desperately need it.