Do you have heroes? And have you ever had the chance to meet them?
In a purely name-dropping way, here are some of the people I've met: Richard Whiteley, Carol Vorderman, Susie Dent, Barry Norman, Noddy Holder, Alexander Armstrong, Richard Osman, Jon Pertwee, that Cain Dingle off Emmerdale, a woman off Corrie and another woman off Corrie. Oh, and Tony Wilson.
And I once saw Bradley Walsh across a crowded plaza, but I was quite busy giving a balloon-animal-seller the heebie-jeebies.
It wasn't this man. But the horse is familiar.
But was I star-struck? I was not.
More or less all of those were in proper contexts (that is, filming Countdown and Pointless - more name-dropping). Some were at funerals and weddings. Tony Wilson was just walking down Deansgate, and I just nodded, and he nodded back. Yay.
But there were two occasions when I met people who are closer to being my heroes. To whit, Mr Tom Baker and Mr Neil Tennant. Dr Who and the singing half of the Pet Shop Boys.
Classic work. But would you interrupt their day?
Mr Tennant was browsing in Waterstone's bookshop in Durham. Mr Baker was putting shopping in his car boot on a Tesco car park in Maidstone.
And there's the dilemma. To disturb, or not to disturb?
It's me. Of course I didn't. Rude to. Book-browsing and boot-filling. Why disturb such lovely moments?
Plus, of course… what if one's heroes aren't the gentlemen they should be? What if the fruity tones of Tom Baker were employed in telling me where to sling my hook? What if the gently nasal voice of Neil Tennant were employed in grumpy response? Would I be able to listen to Left To My Own Devices in the same way again? Would I be able to watch Image Of The Fendahl?
And I confess, more than any other considerations, I stayed quiet and walked on by both times for the simple reason that meeting your heroes can be destructive and disappointing. That's not anything I want to risk. Of course they have feet of clay. I don't idolise or elevate them, merely really enjoy their work.
So. No. But if you're reading, Mr Tennant, Mr Baker, hello. Respect. All that.
This human hero avoidance has repercussions in the spiritual realm. Or rather, it impacts my faith. Basically, sometimes, I don't want to disturb Jesus in case he's… less than I thought he was.
There. Said it. Irrational, because he's not. Not less. He's more, so much more, so much much more than all we could ever imagine. And yet I hang back, just in case. What if…
In the words of my favourite ever Christian songwriter Chris Rice (check out his stuff, it's honest):
Mr Chris Rice. Hello there!
I need a hero
Who’ll dare to find me
Fly to my rescue
And crash through the wall
Announce my freedom
Bring me to my senses
Gather me into his strong arms
And carry me off. . . to safety
Well, I don’t quite know how to do this
But Jesus, I can’t save myself
So here I go calling out for mercy
And crying out for your help
(So if you hear me. . .)
I need a hero
Please dare to find me
Fly to my rescue
And crash through the wall
Announce my freedom
Bring me to my senses
Gather me into your strong arms
And carry me off.
Something like that. My own self-reliance is really a form of captivity to pride… my own refusal to believe that I matter to Jesus is simply a form of missing out on all the good stuff. And Jesus isn't Superman (more on that next post!), either in DC Comics or Nietzschean thinking. But he's there, and his presence scares away the monsters and dispels the darkness and gives hope in dark nights.
Not like this at all, thankfully.
Please remember that, and please pray that I might remember it too! Find him, run to him, crawl to him if that's how you are when bad stuff strikes. Jesus isn't my boyfriend or my bromance, but he's certainly the strong kind tender figure I need when the night falls on you (baby).
Maybe a bit like this.
But as day turns to night there's this hopelessness to fight
When I think that I might not make it through
Sometimes I just have to say your name
To hear it hanging in the air, to know it sounds the same
And sometimes when I'm blue, I know just what to do
To keep the blues at bay you know I only have to say your name
When I've used up all my patience
When your letters have been read twenty times through
I can drink all the wine in this place of mine
But it ain't no replacement
It ain't no replacement for you
Sometimes I just have to say your name
To hear it hanging in the air, to know it sounds the same
And sometimes when I'm blue, I know just what to do
To keep the blues at bay you know I only have to say your name
Say that name. See? That's the one we need.
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