God's Messengers

Last night I had my first Zoom meeting in over a month. It was a clear indication that Elizabeth and my mini-sabbatical had come to an end.

As hard as it was to sit in front of the computer screen for a meeting again, it was also somehow good to have that unmistakable sign that we were back in the thick of it again. It became a good moment to reflect on things—on life in the midst of a pandemic, on what Elizabeth and I were able to accomplish during sabbatical, on how we were feeling coming back into the more regular routine, on how the upcoming few weeks might go.

I was amazed again at how thankful I am for technology. As frustrating as Zoom and other modes of communication can be, this past year would have been much more difficult without the ability to communicate over the internet.

It reminded me of a lesson I learned during sabbatical. Besides the reading I was able to get done and the prep work for regathering that took place, I was able to accompany our daughter Emma on a school trip to Gettysburg. We listened to a number of top-notch speakers talk about the battle, and one in particular talked about the challenges of communication. Back then there was no internet, no telephones, and no radios. There was the telegraph, but you couldn’t use that during battle. Any messages back and forth between troops needed to be delivered in person.

The Union had a huge advantage during the battle because their battle lines were positioned in the shape of a fishhook—there was one long line, but then it hooked around at the end. This made communication (and movement of troops) much easier, at least on the one end, because the line curved back along itself. The Confederacy, on the other hand, needed to go out and around the curve of the fishhook in order to communicate from one end of their lines to the other. Since their lines stretched for miles, communication was slow, and there were numerous instances where a message delivered a bit more swiftly would have altered the battle significantly.

In addition, commanders were constantly making decisions about how to send messages. Obviously, the message would be best conveyed if you could deliver it yourself in person—but this was unrealistic for top-level generals. Often the generals did meet in person late into the night after the fighting had ceased for the day, but this was impossible during the day when they were spread out along the lines. Another option would be to write a note and have a courier deliver it—but this meant your message was open to interpretation, and the person who received it would not be able to ask questions about it. There’s an infamous moment late on the first day of the battle where General Lee wrote a note to General Ewell to “take the hill before him if practicable.” General Ewell decided it wasn’t practicable and didn’t advance despite the Union army being in disarray—and by the next morning, the Union army had dug in and that hill became their main base of defense for the rest of the battle.

Our guide for that discussion, Doug Douds, talked about different levels of communication. Face to face is the best, he said, because we can read each other’s body language and ask questions if needed. We’re able to pick up on visual cues and hear inflection in voices. Technology like Facetime and Zoom might be the next best—not as good as face to face in person, but you still get many of the same benefits, just filtered through the technology. Something like a phone call might be the next best—you miss the visual cues, but you’re still able to ask questions and hear the inflection. And then something like texting or Facebook messenger might be next—no inflection, but you can still get an immediate response. And one of the most challenging forms of communication is writing the old-fashioned letter—it’s slow, doesn’t come with any additional inflection or cues, and you’re left to interpret it yourself.

I thought briefly about worship during a pandemic, and while Zoom worship has certainly had its challenges and many of us are worn out by too much Zoom over the past year, it’s also allowed us to maintain some sense of community, some sense that we’re in this together, some sense that we’re still a body of Christ gathered together even if we are physically distant from each other.

There’s one more way to communicate, though, Doug told us. And that is to send a representative in your place. To send someone you trust to speak for you. Someone who knows you and what you’re trying to do and can represent you well. Someone the person you’re sending the message to knows can speak on your behalf. Someone who might be able to answer questions if the other person has them, someone who could make decisions on your behalf in your absence. And there are multiple instances during the battle of Gettysburg when generals sent their second-in-command to speak for them, or their top camp aid to deliver their message. In these instances, the one who received the message knew to take it seriously—that it was of utmost importance—because the general had bothered to give up their top aid in order to make sure the message was delivered quickly and clearly.

It strikes me that there’s a bit of that happening in the Christian life. Jesus is no longer on this earth physically, but we are his representatives in this world. He’s entrusted us with his message. In the Great Commission of Matthew 28, he tells us to go and make disciples of all nations, teaching them everything Jesus has taught us. In John 15:15, Jesus says, “I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master’s business. Instead, I have called you friends, for everything that I learned from my Father I have made known to you.” Teresa of Avila puts it this way, “Christ has no body now but yours. No hands, no feet on earth but yours. Yours are the eyes through which he looks compassion on this world. Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good. Yours are the hands through which he blesses all the world. Yours are the hands, yours are the feet, yours are the eyes, you are his body. Christ has no body now on earth but yours.”

When I think of the importance of some of those messages during the battle of Gettysburg that were entrusted to those top aids, and then reflect on the importance of Jesus’ message of God’s love for the world that has been entrusted to us, I am first of all astounded that God would consider us worthy of carrying that message—and then I feel a renewed call to do my best to communicate that message well through my every word and action.