Henry

July 20, 2020

Greetings from the messengers,

God has a friend named Henry.

When Henry was grown up, God sent him a message, which he didn’t get, and so he sent him several more, all of which were missed.  Finally, God lifted him from his little village, and they had a long talk.  From that day on the two of them were lifetime friends.  Which means a lot when you consider it.

Henry caught God’s attention because of the way he prayed, which always included questions, and strangely, laughter.  Henry was not a devout man, he had his frailties, but there was a peace about him that drew people to him, he was kind, and above all he was a good listener.  Plus, he had a great laugh.

When Henry first met God it was awkward, of course, but over time he grew comfortable with having coffee with the creator of the universe.  After a while, Henry realized that he had been chosen, at first as a prophet, which didn’t work out, and then as a messenger of a different sort.

“What do I call you, I mean, I feel like I should say Mr. Something, or Your Majesty.  You know?” Henry asked.  God thought this was funny, and reminded Henry that people used many names, from many faiths and beliefs.  “Don’t get too twisted up in formalities.  We’ve known each other a long time.”

Every so often God would ask Henry to visit Earth.  Henry would walk around and listen to people, get a feel for what they were feeling and thinking.  He would stand in lines with them, ride subways, bale hay, do grocery shopping. One summer he stayed in an internment camp in California, another time a sweat shop in New York. For a while he lived in a Maori village and learned all manner of beautiful words, which he memorized to tell God.

When he sat with God later, Henry would describe what people were doing, and use the words they used.  Henry was very good at expressing the feelings of the people he met, because they were imprinted on him.  He understood them because he listened and wanted to understand.

Henry would dare to go anywhere there were people to listen to.  Henry listened to people who were in hospice, he listened to people working in factories, listened to the homeless, the desperate, the prisoners, the addicts.  He listened to the people who were afraid to pray, or didn’t for other reasons.  He listened and asked simple questions. And in between he laughed with people.

Some days he listened to children exclusively because it was refreshing. 

Henry visited with everyone and he was everyone. Henry was a Masai hunter, an Irish peat farmer, a woman in a refugee camp, a hairdresser in Brooklyn, a politician in Colombia.  He marched with protestors in Biloxi, in Tiananmen, he stood near barbed wire at borders, in prisons, in drug houses.  He worked on a farm for a few years and heard about raising crops and raising children.  He listened to the corn.

For generations he listened, and then came back and sat with God and told him what people said and felt.  God said: “What are they afraid of?”  And Henry said; strangers, death, snakes, going hungry, being forgotten.  Sometimes You.  “What makes them happy?”  Loving and being loved.  Chocolate. Living an interesting life. Creating things. Sometimes You.

Henry knew that God already had these answers, but somehow it was good to hear them out loud. And then they would visit, elbows on the table, steaming mugs of coffee in front of them.

And God would talk to Henry.  He told him about apteryxes and black holes and how science and religion both are sometimes disappointing.  He told him about how time really passed, and how hard it was to watch people suffer.  He told him the secret of light.  Some days it was simple things like laundry, and other days it was harder things like the lost sheep.  But what Henry realized was that God just liked having him to talk to.  He really was a good listener.

Henry brought the messages back from the people he listened to and listened while God sifted through things, and asked the questions.  One day Henry asked God if he was ever lonely.  God laughed, which he did often when they were together, because Henry had a good laugh, and it inspired others.  “No, Henry, why would you ask that?”  Henry was a little self-conscious, but said: “I just wonder how you feel when I’m not here.”

God said, gently; “Henry, you are not the only one I send to listen.” 

Hope this finds you listening,

David