Answering the call for help

(This column originally appeared Feb. 23, 2008.)

Back in 1992, a new bishop was assigned to serve Missouri in my religious denomination. Because she was unknown to most of us, an audiotape of one of her sermons was sent to me and every other United Methodist pastor in the state. In it, Bishop Ann Sherer used Isaiah 6:1-8 as a text. She focused on verse 8, which says: "Then I heard the voice of the Lord, saying, 'Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?' And I said, 'Here am I; send me!'"

Bishop Sherer has been reassigned to another state, but her message on this scripture remains memorable. She asked, "If God calls and you don't go, who will? If God calls and you say the time is not right, when will it be right?"

My mind remembered that now-lost cassette tape when I heard of the circumstances regarding the recent death in Iraq of Staff Sergeant Brad Skelton, a man previously unknown to me. I do know some men who knew this departed soldier well, and here's the thing: Mentioning Brad Skelton's name brought smiles to their faces. I didn't know him, but I visit the Gordonville Grill from time to time; the patrons of this eatery had more than a passing acquaintance with Brad. When someone we admire dies, we discover -- without much effort -- that we knew someone who knew someone who knew him or her. It's the idea of "six degrees of separation."

Yes, Isaiah 6:8 comes to mind when I think of Brad Skelton. He had already served in Iraq; he had already done his tour of duty. No one could ask more of him; no one did. Yet the job is still undone in Iraq, and Brad knew that. His reasons for returning practically shouted the message of that Old Testament passage:

He had close friends doing a second tour.

He thought his experience might help protect U.S. soldiers new to Iraq.

As a man without a spouse and children, he thought he could "give someone a break that had a wife and family."

Brad Skelton had many medals and commendations to his credit. Yet it was his selfless intentions that have a voice more persuasive of his heroism than any combat ribbon. His death on a second tour reminds us of how many others have gone back into harm's way again in places we'd have a hard time finding on a map. If you begin to despair about people, if you start to think folks just don't care anymore -- I offer the example of Brad Skelton and so many others who put themselves at risk for something greater than themselves.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer did exactly that. A celebrated theology professor from Germany, Bonhoeffer -- a young man like Brad Skelton -- was out of danger as Adolf Hitler rose to power in his native country. He had a job teaching at a seminary in New York. Yet Bonhoeffer went back, telling his American colleagues that he could not stand by in idleness and safety while his countrymen suffered under tyranny. Bonhoeffer returned to Germany. He was arrested and hanged in April 1945, just days before the Allies liberated the concentration camp where he was being held.

What Bonhoeffer did by returning to Germany and confronting Hitler was no different from a firefighter rushing back into a house fully involved with flames, hoping to save one more person. No one forced him; in fact, many tried to dissuade him. Bonhoeffer went anyway. Guess what? Brad Skelton did the same thing by returning to Iraq. He didn't have to go back into the cauldron. And here's the kicker: Brad actually was a fireman. Six degrees of separation.

"Who will go for me?" the Lord asks. Brad Skelton answered, "Here am I; send me!"