Icarus Flew Too Close To The Sun

We lift people up on our shoulders; we parade them with pride because they're our beloved. We see a greatness in them, beaming from their magnanimity and exploding from their groveling humility. The only problem with carrying these archetypes around their domain is that if they fall, their support buckles under the weight.

So many times in history we've seen great men, men with tridents and men with doves, allow themselves to be frightened by darkness. Whether it be a fear of potential loss of the peoples' favor or a surfacing of some deep monster within that person's psyche, fear creeps in. That shadow can engulf the prominent figure causing him to lose his footing and stumble. A sight my eyes can't bear to see.

We lift them up not expecting their fall. We raise them above us because they're our heroes. They're great because we trust them without really knowing them. A heart connection is made with a savior. These worldly rescuers are here to rescue those of us that desperately and limply raise our hands for help. And they give because they were created to. God implants attributes of Himself so that we can have a tiny glimpse of His glory. He would lift up the destitute, right?

The heartbreak comes when those selected for greatness fall. It's under the world's scrutiny because the world depends on its heroes. The ground shakes with sadness over the loss. My bones lose their density. My heart loses its chipper beat.

But my downtrodden eyes are missing the point. These "heroes" are only human. Kryptonite is real; pride will bring anyone to their knees. The problem is we are so dumbfounded that our beloved hero is on the ground that we don't do anything about it. We have hands. We've obviously been lifting him up for so long. What's keeping me from getting on my knees and lowering my hand to pull his back up. I loved him and all he stood for once. Just because he's not hoisted above my head, outside my realm of vision, doesn't mean my feelings towards him have changed.

We all fidget and contort ourselves as best as we know how to complete our purpose. Some days I feel like I'm tasting the finest ambrosia. Others I feel like I'm spitting out the dirt pasted between my teeth. I know I can't always be up. So, it's far too much pressure to believe that someone allegedly great can do the same. I hope that I'll never be too timid to help my hero. The crowd may scatter, but we can't leave him behind. He may have done wrong, and we can't overlook it. But God places bits of His glory inside all of us, not just the heroes. Let's bring out the stretcher and hoist him up again.

"There is no fear in love..." 1 John 4:18