Here I Am

I’m on the email list of a church where I worship while in Texas part of the year. Usually I look with little interest in the informational messages that come around, but today I saw one that caught my attention. You know, pay attention, even if it is a little inconvenient. We hear too much from too many people about too many things that, let’s face it, don’t particularly call us. The message was simple—a response from someone offering to step up. “…BUT You know me, I WILL if no one else speaks up.”

Last Sunday at the place where I worship here a presentation and conversation during what is called adult forum concerned in part being open, taking risks, embracing opportunities to make a difference. Only a couple of years ago I asked a friend who claims a healthy vertical relationship with God for his definition of an angel. He quickly answered, “Angels are messengers.” How odd, I thought at the time, and even more so today, that I didn’t know—or maybe I had just forgotten—a definition that can be found just anywhere angels are defined and described. All roads lead to Greece in this instance, “angelos”, the Greek word for “messenger”. A few years ago we were entertained and called to action during prime time by a drama called “Touched by an Angel.” Apparently, during its run it was one of the highest rated shows on CBS. Life affirming it was. My mother was a fan, and frankly, so was I. The reason is simple. I believe in angels, and I am sustained by witnessing the life affirming. I long to be an angel. Who wouldn’t want to be that messenger who shows up to shine a light on the path, to shoulder a little extra burden, to cast love where love is faltering, to challenge us to make difficult choices, and to offer peace in spite of the outcome.

I often hear people complain about the demands of their lives. Sometimes we embarrass ourselves, often without knowing how foolish we sound as we go on and on about how stretched we are for time, how tough the circumstances we share with someone, how unfulfilled we feel. How demanding, how tiresome our lives can be. We obviously have to make a living, and if we are involved in family, we clearly have responsibilities there. We can hardly get away without some commitment to community. All the other things we do to oblige ourselves—maybe not so important as we insist or as we would like to believe. Shelter, food, and many, perhaps most, say spiritual nourishment, constitute our basic requirements. I add to that companionship, community, and the resulting sense of belonging. I like knowing that others depend on me in some way, even though at times I have resented the demands, real and perceived. I couldn’t begin to imagine the number of times that I have been one of the recipients of a call to act and instead just kept my hand down and my mouth shut, or the times I mistook a plea for something less worthy, and cast my own confusion, like a pall, over the plea.

I guess that it’s especially the time of the year because I’m in an angel frame of mind. Doing for others, whether it involves food or the nurturing no morsel ever provided, being there as kin and friend, as a stranger called to act, sometimes as a lover, tugs at me right now. While we are busy thinking that life is just going on—up, down, sideways, doing a flip-flop and taking us along for the ride, I am amazed at how frequently the messengers carry out their work right before our noses. Most amazing of all—that we don’t realize when we are the messenger or that we are even a part of some miracle.

I’ll bet the guy who spoke up in the email that went out—to how many people—had not a clue that someone might stop and consider, what a good guy you are. Maybe, just maybe someone thought, I should offer the same. The messages beg our attention. As I drove down St. Francis this morning on the way to Morning Prayer and Bible study, the staples of my Friday morning, a car passed me in the lane to my right. I noticed the license plate read SEEKHIM. My Christian faith tradition calls to mind the obvious. Ever ready to be expansive, however, I prefer right now to let my heart wander. On this cold, overcast day on the high plateau, where snow is predicted for later in the day, what do I do to answer the call? What do I do to step outside my narrow self? Here I am.

Here I Am—Santa Fe, New Mexico (December 26, 2008)
R. Harold Hollis