This message is from August 26, 2007

Scripture Reading:
Matthew 13:31-35

Little Days of August

Message Files / Archive / WHF

Finch kept a careful eye on the clock, because he liked to leave the house at precisely 9:12 AM. The number appealed to him. Anyone could leave the house at 9:00 or 9:30. 9:15 was a well-traveled boulevard. To his great satisfaction, Finch chose the road less traveled. Every day, he left home at twelve minutes after 9:00.

Norman Finch had a mirror by his front door. It was an oval mirror. There was an eagle carved into the top of the wooden frame. The bird spread its wings protectively over every reflection. Every day, as he left the house, Finch paused for a moment to glance at himself in the mirror. This was another part of his routine, but one that Finch refused to acknowledge. Instead, he always managed to glance at the mirror as if by chance. He never looked too closely or for too long. It was just a glance. But it was enough to confirm that he was still there.

This happened every day, at 9:12 AM.

Except for the day that it did not.

* * *

One day, Norman Finch opened the front door of his house. Just when his head might have turned toward the eagle-crested mirror, a little brown sparrow flew through the open door. The bird flew right in, as if it had been waiting for the door to open.

Out of reflex, Finch ducked beneath his own arms. He screamed. Then he gave chase.

Finch ran back into his house, waving his hands and shouting, “Shoo! Shoo!” The sparrow darted from place to place. The little brown bird was surprisingly destructive. It knocked picture frames askew and toppled a pair of candlesticks. Finally, the sparrow flew out the open door and back into the great outdoors.

Finch ran after the brown bird, and closed the door behind him – forgetting to find his own reflection in the mirror.

* * *

On this particular day, two angels were waiting to speak with Norman Finch. The first angel was like a clear evening sky, right when the first star appears. The second angel was like sunlight on wet gold. Both angels were standing on Finch’s car, waiting for him to arrive. Angels like to be up high. They were discussing strategy.

The blue angel said, “Let’s not tell him that we are angels.”

The golden angel frowned. “What scheme has unsettled thee now?”

The blue angel shrugged. “I was thinking... we could tell him that we’re from the future. You know, like time travelers.”

“An ill humor has addled they brain,” the golden angel accused. ““Why would we speak thus?”

“It would be cool,” the blue angel protested. “Besides, you know what happens when we tell people that we are angels. No one believes us. It’s embarrassing.”

The golden angel snorted derisively, but Norman Finch was fast approaching. His pending arrival precluded any further argument.

Finch pulled the car keys from his pocket and unlocked the driver’s side door. The automated door locks responded as a chorus. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. The car opened itself on every side.

In a voice that dazzled, The golden angel proclaimed, “Behold, Norman Finch, we bring thee glad tidings. Be not afraid.”

For the first time, Finch noticed that there were two beings on the roof of his car. “Hey!” he yelped. “Get off my car! Who the heck do you think you are?”

The golden angel spread sunlit arms majestically. “We are angels.”

Finch blinked at the luminous beings standing on the roof of his car. He had to admit that there was something extraordinary about them. The thin metal of the car’s roof should have buckled under their combined weight. But the surface was smooth, like untroubled water. Still skeptical, Finch demanded, “Where are your wings?”

“He’s too smart for us,” the blue angel sighed. “We have to tell him the truth. Actually, we are travelers through time. We are from the future.”

The golden angel scowled, but Finch only nodded. “I knew it,” he said. “You’re probably using some kind of anti-gravity device. That makes sense.” The golden angel made a sound of defeat. Misunderstanding, Finch held up his hands in promise. “Don’t worry,” he said, then amended, “Uh, I mean, ‘Be not afraid.’ Your secret is safe with me.”

“Thank you, Norman Finch,” the blue angel said solemnly.

“You know me,” Finch realized with a start. “You came from the future to talk to me. I knew it. I always knew this would happen.”

“Forsooth,” said the golden angel. “We have come to counsel with thee.”

Finch was grinning now. “Wow,” he breathed. “I knew it. I must become someone pretty famous, right? Like in the future? Wow.”

The golden angel stared down at Finch. With a voice like molten bronze, the angel proclaimed, “Thou art a speck. Thy span is like unto grass, which blooms and fades in a season.”

Finch was too star struck to notice this ominous reply. Instead, he asked, “So what happens to me? Do I become President? Do I discover something, like a cure for cancer? Do I write a poem that changes the world? Wow. I knew it! What makes me so famous?”

Bluntly, the blue angel said, “You’re not famous.”

Finch seemed to shrink a little. With a sigh, he confessed, “I knew it.” Finch sat down on the sidewalk, next to his car. When he looked up again, he asked, “So why are you talking to me? Shouldn’t you be looking for the next blood-soaked dictator, or something? Get him to take up needlepoint. Help him to find satisfaction in racing sailboats. Shouldn’t you be saving the world?

“I’m late for work.”

“Do not lose heart,” the golden angel said softly. “The future holds no fame for thee, but thy life is of great importance nonetheless.”

Finch looked to the blue angel for confirmation. The blue angel nodded. “It’s true,” the angel said. “We are not here by accident. Norman Finch, you have great value.”

Clearly relieved to be back on familiar ground, the golden angel repeated, “We bring thee glad tidings. Be not afraid.”

Finch nodded. “Right. Of course. If I was famous, you couldn’t talk to me. It’s that paradox of time travel. If you go back in time and change something, then time moves in a different direction. Lincoln serves a third term as president, or Leonardo DaVinci invents the machine gun. A different past means a different future. And a different future means that you guys were never born. If you were never born, then how did you go back in time to change things? Yeah, I get the paradox. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? That’s why you’re talking to me. Of course. My life doesn’t have any impact on the future.

“Nothing I do can possibly change the world.”

“Thou art too much in the future,” scolded the golden angel. “Let today be enough for thee.”

The blue angel nodded. “We came here now,” the blue angel insisted. “To you. Because you have great value.”

Finch wanted to believe. “But why?” he asked. “What can I do?”

“The future does not come decade by decade. It comes moment by moment. The future doesn’t leap from DaVinci to Lincoln, like someone crossing a river stone by stone. The inches forward. It omes in the hands of regular people, acting out the events of their lives day by day. You are building the future. You are. By the choices you make. By the love you give. By the hopes you carry. You are building the future.

“In history books, the story leaps from July 4 to September 11 to December 25. But that picture is misleading. Always, the future is one moment following the next. It is August 26, then August 27, then August 28. The future comes on millipede feet: little parts all working together.”

The golden angel grew brighter and said, “We have come to thee, Norman Finch because without fame, thou art building the future.”

* * *

“And really, we are angels,” the blue angel added. “We are really talking about the Kingdom of Heaven. That kingdom is the future. And the Kingdom of God is like a tiny mustard seed. It is like microorganisms of yeast.

The Kingdom of God is something very small that changes everything.

The Kingdom of God is in you.

Let God shine through every little decision you make. Today, make one small step. Care for something you could easily ignore. Give a little bit of love without expecting anything in return. Do a small thing.

Soon, small things will be a habit. Then habits will be the future.

You are making the future.

The Kingdom of God is in you.