by Rev. Tim Kearney

Bodie Island Light is located in the Outer Banks of North Carolina along the Cape Hatteras National Seashore. It stands in the middle of a large field that sits in the middle of the island. It is marked with alternating horizontal black and white lines. It is so tall that it can be seen by navigators on either side of the island.

I visited this lighthouse in early August, just after Hurricane Alex visited the Carolina coast. As I drove into the parking area, I noticed that an SUV with a Virginia license plate was behind me. Four people exited: a man wearing a white polo shirt and blue cargo shorts; two boys one about thirteen and one about ten, dressed exactly like the man; and a woman, wearing a white summery dress.

As soon as the four had exited their vehicle, a minivan from Pennsylvania entered the parking area. Six people exited this vehicle, two adults and four children. The man was dressed in blue cargo shorts and a white polo shirt. The woman was dressed in a summery white dress. The four children, two boys and two girls were dressed exactly like the adults.

Another SUV entered the parking lot, this time with a Maryland license plate. About seven people exited this van. The males were dressed in blue cargo shorts and white polo shirts, the women in white summery dresses.

At this point I became rather self-conscious. I was not dressed like these people. Was I out of uniform? My Boston accent already made me suspect in the deep South; would the fact I was not wearing blue cargo shorts and a white polo shirt make me a complete outcast? I was comforted when I noticed that there were some other people at the lighthouse, and none of them were dressed like this, though I did notice that they, like me, were curious about these people. I think we probably thought we had entered the Twilight Zone.

I assumed that the kids would begin running around the field, playing some sort of game, but not these children. They walked to the field like soldiers, stood in a single line by height. The adults stood behind the children, again by height. Then they began to count off: "One two, one, two." Next, on cue, each person put on a toothy Jimmy Carter like smile and they began to lean: the ones leaned toward the right, the twos toward the left.

A woman said "perfect." She then took out a camera and it was then that I realized what was happening. These nearly identical people were not involved in some sort of arcane ritual; they were posing for a family photo. The woman with the camera decided that the next unsuspecting person would be the photographer.

"Excuse me," she said in a voice that sounded Pennsylvanian. (It's not that I am an expert at detecting Pennsylvania accents; I just knew from listening to her that she could not have been from Maryland or Virginia since there was no twang to what she had to say.) 'Would you please take our picture?" She was talking to a woman on the porch of the visitor's center.

"Oh, I'm really not very good with cameras."

"You'll do fine. All you have to do is push this button. The camera does the rest."

"I don't know."

The woman whom I had guessed was from Pennsylvania did not take no for an answer. She got in her place for the photograph, told the woman they would be ready on the count of three, and sure enough, when she said three, everyone was in place and smiling, as the woman fiddled with the camera. She made it clear she was not all that confident in what she was doing, did not know the best way to hold the camera, and hoped that the final results would be what the people wanted. The woman who had asked her to take the picture assured her that the results would be great and thanked her for her services.

The reluctant photographer left with a big smile on her face. The perfect family left as well, but as they left, their imperfections began to show. One of the fathers suggested an ice cream, and the kids began fighting about who was going to ride with whom, who deserved the front seats, and all the other issues that seem to go along with kids and vacations. They were a family like every other family after all.

The family could have hired a professional photographer, but for whatever reason, they decided that any passer-by would do. Capturing the family mattered more than perfection. At this point, the family probably has the results of the photographs. The results could be nearly perfect. They may become the basis of the greatest Christmas card ever. The picture could also be flawed, yet we probably all have a few flawed pictures that seem to capture the moment perfectly in a way that a perfect photo does not. Whatever the results, this family will have captured on film a treasured memory that they will either relish or find humorous, and they have a reluctant photographer to thank for the results.

All of us may feel like this reluctant photographer from time to time, especially when we are called upon to do something which we feel others could handle better. We may want Divine Intervention to get us out of a situation and hope that God sends someone else. Often this does not happen, and if we look to Scripture, we may learn why. God never seems to choose those with the best qualifications to do the job, but God often calls the person who can do the job in the way God desires.

Take Moses as an example. We might envision a young Charlton Heston as the young Moses, but the Moses of Scripture was not all that confident, thought others could do the job better, and believed he was not very physically imposing, especially with an annoying voice. Still, Moses did the job.

Beauty queens are not our immediate choice to save us in our hour of need. We rely on leaders, diplomats, and intellectuals to get us out of binds, not Miss America. Yet the Old Testament Book of Esther makes it clear that the heroine was not selected to be queen due to her intelligence or piety, but because she was a ravishing beauty. It was Esther whom God used to save the Jewish people.

When it was time to spread the message of Jesus Christ to non-Jewish people, God did not send an open-minded thinker, one open to cultural differences, but instead he sent an opinionated, closed-minded person who once persecuted people of faith. Yet when given the chance to do something for God, few people have surpassed St. Paul.

In God's greatest action, he did not select a political leader or a powerful religious figure to raise his Son, he chose a humble young woman engaged to a carpenter. When it comes to accepting God's challenges, Mary and Joseph were probably the least q alified for the job, at least on paper, but God knew that no one could have done the job better.

For many of us, fall is more like the beginning of a new year than the beginning of the calendar year. School starts again, vacations are probably memories, and we are bombard-.ed with a great many challenges to our time.

Everyone seems to be looking for volunteers. There are never enough religious education teachers; the choir needs that extra voice; schools are looking for parents to volunteer; retirees are needed to read to young children at library programs or to volunteer as foster grandparents. The list is endless.

Something inside often wants to respond with a yes, but Ave wonder if we are good enough for the job. Do we have what it takes? The generous side of ourselves wants to give, but we often feel that someone else can do it better, or has something more to give.

Perhaps what we need to do is to look at that nudge; that feeling that challenges us to get involved. If we think we have something to give, we probably do. If we fear we may not have the qualifications needed, we are in good company. Some of Scripture's greatest figures did not have the qualifications, but they are exactly the people God called to do something wonderful, and God may have something wonderful in store for each of us as well.