“I’m not called.”
“I can’t go.”
“I’m no hero.”
The excuses we give to The One, the one we claim to follow, our Risen Lord, must, in turn, amuse and frustrate The Divine beyond all reckoning, if amusement and frustration are part of The Divine’s landscape. Not to anthropomorphize, but I suspect they are.
Does God sometimes ponder the wisdom of creating beings with the gift of vast imaginations who so limit themselves to only that which they themselves can see?
I suspect the main difference between those among us we think of as heroic and the rest of us is the ability, or better, the willingness, to trust that gift of imagination.
The rest of us, it seems, either cannot or will not (I suspect the latter) imagine what is possible, or in imagining, will not or dare not trust our imaginings for the divine gifts they are.
John Lennon, with a very different message in mind, perhaps captured it best when he wrote, Imagine . . . it’s easy, if you try.
For in all the imagining in the world, there is much wonder and the chance of endless possibility.
“Who else,” answers the God of superlative imagining.