Here Am I Lord - Part 2.

The post below is the lyrics to the Hymn: "Here Am I Lord".

I love that Hymn. As much as I love the Hymn in its entirity, I love the Chorus.

Whome shall I send?

Here am I Lord. Is it I Lord? I will go, Lord, if you lead me.

"Here am I Lord"

First in the Bible by Abraham in Genesis. Then by Moses, at the bush. Then by Samuel, and Saul, and Isaiah, and fianlly by Ananias. In every case, God calls out to a person, and the person responds.

I think most people associate the song with Chapter 6 of Isaiah, and rightly so I think, as the rest of the song matches well what is communicated in that chapter of scrupture. But the words and usage, recognition and situation associated with the words "Here am I Lord" are more universal than application or reflection of any single scripture, or person, or account.

There is recognition in that "response". A recognition of who it is that is calling, and there is no doubt. The Lord calls.

There is desire. You can almost see it. A man, perched on the edge, leaning out, looking up, reaching ... It's the image of every believer, the image of their true selves, though many of us forget it.

And specifically in the case of Isaiah, the "Here am I Lord" is not a response to question, but instead to a need. Isaiah, sees the Father grieving, and there is a question, but it's not clear if it was asked of Isaiah, or God asking Himself as if speaking alowed. See the vision Isaiah recieves implies that it was God's intent that he hear the question, and thus implied that it is a question to which he needs consider. Given all that though, Isaiah responds, as if the Father did not bring Isaiah to exactly where he was witnessing the Father in the temple, "Here am I!". Then "Send me." You see Isaiah, wanting to do whatever, wherever, whenever - if it is the Father's will, and in His Will that a man should be an instrument of that Will, then Isaiah needed nothing else. If the Father had said, "...who's life will be taken...", I think Isaiah would hav responded the same way, "...Here I am...", "...take me..., if it is Thy will that it should be so...". I think that because at the believer's heart, the same desire is there for all. That, by my life or death, God's will and Glory above all. Love drives it. Love so great, and with no greater model than the Son that died to save us, that there is no greater desire than to to be called by the Father to whatever end. To go. To speak. To stand. To run. To die.

I am undone. I am unclean. I am imperfect. I am a sinner, and the holy, holy, holy Father sees my sinful heart. He saw Isaiah too, and still Isaiah became his instrument. So am I, though I know not to what end. I cut through the world around me, time and people and matter passing by with greater and greater urgency and I speak when I can, I love as I can, I stand where I can, and I run as I can, and I wait. I see the glory of the Lord all around me, in every drop of rain, and in every moment of warmth from the Sun, and in every breath of wind that blows past my face, and in my heart - the heart of who I am in Christ - I reach for the Father, and every beat of my heart echoes across the canyons of my life with, "...here am I, Lord...", "Is it I lord?", "...send me...".

Since the moment I woke from the sleep to which I was born, I have been asking, in my heart. "...is it I Lord...", "...is this work for me, Father?", "...I will go Lord, if you lead me...".

And so, Here I am. Still reaching. Still praying, in my heart, to be called. Still. Always.

Here Am I Lord. Is It I Lord?

I, the Lord of sea and sky
I have heard my people cry
All who dwell in dark and sin
My hand will save:

I who made the stars and night
I will make the darkness bright
Who will bear my light to them?
Whom shall I send?

Here I am Lord
Is it I Lord?
I have heard you calling in the night
I will go Lord If you lead me
I will hold your people in my heart

I the Lord of snow and rain,
I have borne my people's pain,
I have wept for love of them,
They turn away...

I will break their hearts of stone
Fill their hearts with love alone
I will speak my word to them
Whom shall I send?

Here I am Lord
Is it I Lord?
I have heard you calling in the night
I will go Lord
If you lead me
I will hold your people in my heart

I, the Lord of wind and flame
I will tend the poor and lame
I will set a feast for them
My hand will save:

Finest bread I will provide
Till their hearts be satisfied
I will give my life to them
Whom shall I send?

Here I am Lord
Is it I Lord?
I have heard you calling in the night
I will go Lord If you lead me
I will hold your people in my heart

A Few Words About My Mother

Much of what I have read in the last days regarding Mom’s death has been by people who were touched by her efforts with the Chemical Safety Board, and who knew her passion for what she accomplished in her career. The outpouring there has been beautiful, and would have made her blush in pride I think.

But she was so much more than the person who was so passionate and engaged in standing for worker safety, and industrial compliance. She was a mother, and a friend, and a glowing grandmother, and a wife, and a sister, and a force that pulled people together in love wherever she went. It seemed that there was a significant gap in the remembrances, and though I am unequal to the task of filling the gap, I thought at least I would try to offer some perspective, about who mom was to me.

God gave mom the desire to make a difference in the world she lived and worked in. Mom put her whole self into everything she did, and was committed to being mentally and emotionally present wherever she was and in whatever role she found herself.

She was a great mother. When Shannon and I were growing up, she made sure that we did the things that kids want to do. She was a Girl Scout leader when Shannon was in scouts, and loved to plan and take the troop on trips. She would take the troop (and me when I was just a little terror) to do things all over the Copper Basin that introduced the kids to the history, and culture, and quality of the region (though she was a Yankee-transplant). She would come to my school and tell stories to my elementary school classes; Uncle Remus, Grandfather Tales, and Jack Tales. Stories that had their roots in the South, and Southeast. She would take Shannon and I to monthly events in Ducktown, , called “Circle L”, where people who had grown up in the area would tell short stories, and folktales set in and about the Copper Basin. When Shannon was in the youth group at church, Mom volunteered to teach the kids at Sunday school, but also to plan and takes trips with the youth (again, taking me as the younger irritating tagalong whenever she could). When Shannon’s senior Spanish class went to Europe, Mom volunteered to go with them as an adult leader. She played tag around the church-yard with me, and took me on long trips to a grocery store more than an hour away from home, just to have time alone with me.

While she was managing solid waste and waste treatment, learning and navigating the shoals of industrial practice in the early part of her career, she was engaged as a wife, and a mother, and a friend, community enthusiast, and Sunday School teacher. That’s just who she was. When she saw a need or an opportunity that she felt her kids should have, she found time to get involved personally to make certain that things were as good as they could be. We didn’t have it all, but we went, and did, and experienced, and laughed, and had lives which were fuller because she made it a priority to do what she could.

When the mine and the chemical plant in Copper Basin began to diminish, and a navigable future there began to look questionable, Mom found her 1st position with Champion International Paper in Connecticut. She moved there and we followed after. The needs of the family meant that she had to work more and travel more than she wanted, but she continued to be present in my life as she was able. She didn’t work to have more, but instead to see that the family had enough. She still taught Sunday School, and she loved being involved in the church. She came to Lacrosse games, and planned church picnics, and helped me type school papers at 2:00 in the morning. And, as much as anything else, even when she traveled, she would always take my call.

It wasn’t just my call though. My cousins, and Aunts and Uncles, and people who found their way into her path, and people she purposed to find … she invested in people; anyone that would allow her to do with or for them. She poured herself into people with her time, and her compassion, and her resources to give them opportunity, and joy, and perspective. And what’s really amazing, was that often the people she invested in, people to whom she gave freely of herself and her resources, took without thanks, and were capricious and apathetic about the heart-and-soul investment that mom had made in their lives, and even threw back at her, her care and love, time and wisdom, and hurt her to her core. Even those of us who should have been closest to her, and known better. Even me. And still she gave. She invested, and sought out people. That is a God-given strength, behind a God-given mission to have God-inspired compassion on a world that rebels against God. And she loved to do it.

Mom loved the Church. She was always reading. When it wasn’t reams of (to me anyway) mind-numbing briefs and regulations and so-forth for work, she was reading C.S. Lewis, Bonhoeffer, and William Barklay, John Calvin, Oswald Chambers, Martin Luther, Max Lucado, Phillip Yancey, and hosts of others (I think C.S. Lewis was her favorite, and she said that “The great Divorce” gave her a great deal of comfort). My mother ran the race. She may not have always chosen the correct path (if such a thing exists), and she wasn’t perfect, but her whole life she never stopped running the race she felt God had called her to run. She loved to learn, and as long as she was learning she was willing to teach others what she knew, and willing to talk to anyone about what she suspected. She taught with patience, and passion, and humility, and more important, she listened the same way. I never saw her teach a Sunday School class as an adult, and forever I will wish that I have been able to learn more from her about how to teach and interact with people so that they are engaged and involved and interested. She really had such a gift for that.

God’s hand on mom’s life was the thing that made her who she was. I think she would say that was true. She was God’s very special daughter. She was a heart full of hope and laughter and compassion and generosity for every story before her. She was the very heart and smile of every family holiday. She was a warm and steady light in the storm. She was a million wonderful thoughts stretching beyond the horizon, and with all that was wonderful about her and with all the ways that she touched the world and all the amazing things she accomplished – to me, she was my most loving mother.

Carolyn Merritt died August 29th, 2008 in St. Louis, Missouri. She was 61.

She was the wife of one man, and a mother to two, and a grandmother to two.

She was a sister to four.

She is survived by her father, her sisters and brother, her husband, children, and grandchildren.

She loved her life and lived to love. She touched the world. She finished the race.

I love you Mom