No one has ever accused me of being tall. When I report my height at 5’6” I may be exaggerating a little bit. I was not destined to shine as a basketball player. I am frequently in the front row in group photographs. I look up when conversing with others a lot. I know a lot of short jokes.

It isn’t a difficult burden to bear.

After all, height is a matter of perspective. I’m taller than all of the children in the preschool.

We use images of height in all kinds of ways in our culture. It is frequently a part of our religious imagination. We speak of the heights of spirituality, of the depths of depression, of the lofty realm of God. The Old Testament gives us images of Moses talking with God up on the mountain, of the building of a tower in an effort to reach God, of Elijah’s and Jesus’ ascents into heaven. We often think of God’s realm as being above earth and hell being down below.

But there is no sin in being short.

The teacher and Quaker elder Parker Palmer reports of a therapist who once told him:

“You seem to image depression as the hand of an enemy trying to crush you. Would it be possible to image it instead as the hand of a friend pressing you down to ground on which it’s safe to stand?”

He also jokes, “My first thought was, ‘I need a new therapist.’”

I remember a time when I wished that I were taller. I didn’t always like being the shortest in my class. It isn’t much fun in junior high when all the girls are taller than you. I grew up (notice the use of the word “up”) thinking that going to high places was a good idea. My parents were pilots. I love flying. I enjoy being above the clouds.

As an academic and an intellectual, I have invested a lot of time and energy in thinking. Thinking is something that I love to do. But the world of universities and academic thinking also teaches one to live largely in one’s head. To approach every situation and every problem with the intellect, even if that means ignoring one’s feelings. Calm thinking in place of loud outbursts. Ideas trump emotions. It is commonplace in the world of academia. Living mostly in one’s head means focusing attention on the part of one’s body that is farthest from the ground. It is easy to forget one’s roots. Universities aren’t the best teachers of how to integrate ideas with real world experience. They say that it takes three or four years after seminary for a pastor to gain practical skills. I may be a slow learner. The seven years we spent in rural North Dakota were an important part of my learning to integrate thinking and acting. And I spent part of my time in North Dakota longing for the mountains of Montana. I was still trying to get up in the world, to climb the ladder, to ascend to the heights.

There is something reassuring about the place in life where I find myself these days. I’m aware that as I age I’m not getting any taller. In fact things seem to be settling a bit. I am, however, quite comfortable in my own skin and have learned to be quite happy with who I am. I no longer have to worry about a career ladder. I’m not going to be coming into some big promotion. I won’t be asked to lead a larger congregation or become a Conference Minister or join the national leadership of the church. I suspect that I would never have been good at those jobs, but there was a time when I could imagine myself as being in charge. Knowing that this congregation and these people are where I am called to serve and being secure in that relationship frees me to focus on serving others in this place. I don’t have to worry about how my resume looks. I don’t have to think about how others view me.

I am aware that the future of this congregation holds new leaders who will have new ideas and who will lead in new directions. For now, however, we are doing well with who we are. We don’t need to be the biggest or fastest growing congregation in our town. We don’t have to hold the most expensive real estate or have the tallest steeple. We understand our call to serve others and are at home in our neighborhood.

Before he died, Rabbi Zusya said: “In the world to come they will not ask me, ‘Why were you not Moses?’ They will ask me, ‘Why were you not Zusya?’”

So here I am. All 5’ 5 1/2” of me. I’m not the best or most sought after preacher in the church. I’m a pastor to a particular congregation. I’m not perfect in any way, I make mistakes and employ poor judgment. I can be a procrastinator and a bit messy. I’m not skilled at politics and I don’t stand out in a crowd. But God gives me the most exquisite joy of looking at the stars on a clear autumn night and watching the sunrise creep over the lake. There is incredible beauty in being close to the ground. I doubt if any captain in the largest tanker or cruise ship in the world experiences anything more beautiful that the sights I see lying on my back in a canoe looking at the world from the level of the surface of the lake. There is grace in the height that I have been given.

And “down here” is a good place to ponder the miracle of incarnation. For us Christians, Jesus is God embodied in the midst of this world. If there is any sense of up and down, we focus our attention on God come down to our level - being accessible in the midst of this life. Here in this place, serving this congregation, is a wonderful place to look at God’s presence in the midst of the people.

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