As I was headed out of my office this evening, one of my coworkers told me that Nelson Mandela had died today, December 5, 2013. And as my breath caught in my chest and the lump formed in my throat, I shook my head in sadness and comment to my two colleagues,
“You know I believe that whenever a light has gone out of the world, another light comes on somewhere to take it’s place. I wonder where is the next light coming from.” The colleague who had shared the news with me replied, “Yes, I believe that when someone dies, somewhere in the world a child is born to take his place.” “I agree with that,” I nodded, “but we don’t have time to wait for a baby to be born and grow up to be the next Nelson Mandela. The next Nelson Mandela is alive and walking in the world right now.” “Maybe it’s us,” my other coworker responded. “We’re always waiting for someone else to be it–maybe it’s us.”She’s right, of course. I used to write about this in the context of Martin Luther King, Jr. We’re always waiting for someone else to be the one who will step up, step in, come save us. But instead of looking around for the next Nelson Mandela, what if it is me? People spend a lot of time looking for the next Nelson Mandela, or the next Martin Luther King Jr., the next Mother Teresa, the next Sojourner Truth, that next person who carries that spirit of activism and possesses that presence that seems to transcend the characteristics of regular human beings. These people are angels wrapped in flesh. Perhaps we really are the ones we’ve been waiting for. So perhaps the question is not who is the next Nelson Mandela. Perhaps the question is, who is the next Marquita Chamblee or rather, who is Marquita Chamblee meant to be and who’s to say that she’s not the next Nelson Mandela?
Tonight I am grateful for the example and the legacy of Nelson Mandela. He like other luminaries past and present seems so big to those of us who feel we were not meant to play on a big stage. How can we ever hope to fill his shoes? And yet, we are not called to fill his shoes, we are called to walk in our own and to walk the path that is laid out before us. I hardly think that as Mr. Mandela languished in prison for 27 years he was planning out how he was going to become an icon, an internationally renowned figure. As he was fighting against the repressive brutality of South African apartheid, I’m sure he wasn’t thinking about book deals and speaking tours. I wonder if he had any inkling of who he was going to become, of the prominence and stature he would rise to and the cost he would have to pay to get there.
We walk along in our seemingly mundane lives, doing the best we can, some of us working to make a difference in the world, others looking to make a difference in our world, even our small little corner of it. We do not necessarily reach for greatness. My guess is that for many people, greatness finds them when they are minding their own business, doing their own thing. Perhaps it will find me. In the meantime, I am going to boldly declare to myself and people around me: I am the next Nelson Mandela. I have no idea whether or not it is true, but that scarcely matters. I want to live my life with the belief that I have the power to positively influence the world around me. No matter how weary I get with the challenges I see in the world around me, I have to believe that I hold at least some of the answers. I am the one I’ve been waiting for and the world is waiting for me. (And you, by the way.)
I want to close with the piece by Marianne Williamson, because it speaks to the sense that some of us have that we are not meant to be big, that we have to play small so as to make others comfortable with us or because we’re somehow afraid of the true power, the true potential embedded in each of us. And while I don’t know what it actually looks like to truly “walk in my power” the only way to do it is to start. And so I shall, by the grace of the Creator and with a heart filled with gratitude.
Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn’t serve the world. There’s nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we’re liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.
Marianne Williamson, A Return to Love.
