We don’t all get to be what we wanted when we were kids. If we did, the superhero sector would be over saturated. But then there would be no one to do our accounts, and the dishes wouldn’t get done.
When we are young, we dream of changing the world —perhaps through the medium of dance, song or our amazeballs fire-fighting skills. But then we grow up. We discover words like ‘facilitate’ and ‘unarranged overdraft’. In the grownup world, it’s hard to use ‘cowabunga’ in a sentence.
There are those few people who never grow up—they always dream big. People like William Booth, who didn’t just walk past the homeless; he did something about them and founded The Salvation Army. Most of us could name a great person who seems to have been chosen by God to shift the axel of humanity.
In his thoughtful book Falling Upwards, the Franciscan monk Richard Rohr describes a hero as someone who ‘lives in deep time’, which includes the past, present and future. Heroes are also people who take risks. They are ready to leave the comfort of home, responding to an invitation from their soul out of a deep obedience to God.
In this definition, being a hero is written into the DNA of our humanity—reflected most vividly in Jesus Christ—and yet is a choice we make. The vast majority of humans won’t be world-changers like William Booth, but we can all change the part of the world we are placed in. Unseen people all around the world are living in ‘deep time’ by responding to God’s call in their lives.
‘Most people confuse their life situation with their actual life, which is an underlying flow beneath the everyday events,’ says Rohr. In our culture, almost all the emphasis is on the first half of life, where we are seeking an identity through our version of ‘fame and fortune’. But what happens to heroes after they’ve finished saving the day? Rohr argues that it is in the second half of life—when we let go of self-delusions—that we come into our ‘human fullness’. This is a time when making a noise and going ‘Look at me! Look at me!’ can give way to quietness. Instead of being in the spotlight, we are ready to humbly encourage from the wings (although perhaps still whispering cowabunga under our breath).
We can’t all be superheroes, but we can all be real-life heroes. Whether we’re an accountant or a dad doing the dishes, we don’t need to stop dreaming. It’s never too late to let go of our own importance and join in with what’s important to God.
By Ingrid Barratt