Early in my time with Renovaré, we were on some kind of retreat and Richard J. Foster was there. 

I use his full name with middle initial because that’s how it appears on all his books that meant so much to me. In the mountains of my mind, he was a spiritual giant breathing rarified air. Now I was going to get time with him. 

I noticed he was wearing those goofy cargo pants that convert into shorts, the ones with a zipper around each knee. The humanification of a hero had begun. 

On a hike with a small group, I found myself beside him. I did my level best to get him to enlighten me with spiritual wisdom. I threw hardball and softball questions, hoping for a home run; he didn’t swing. I offered a proverbial mic hoping he’d drop it; he didn’t take it. I wanted a genius and a guru, and instead I got something of a grandpa who wanted to hear more about my life than to blow me away with theological truths.

Later I told Nate, Your dad is devastatingly ordinary.

Richard caught word of this and was delighted. Apparently it was the best compliment anyone could possibly give him. 

In the years since, I’ve found Richard not to be who I hoped he was but something better — who he is: a man with zero pretense and nothing to prove, whose heart is aflame for God and whose appetite for Mexican food is unmatched. 

They say don’t meet your heroes, especially spiritual writers. I say meet them. Let your illusions be shattered, and the complex reality that is a real person make you praise God who brings forth living water out of dust. 

Your heroes don’t have to be alive to meet them, either. 

Find them in the Bible. Thank God Scripture isn’t stained glass, untouchable and aloof. It’s alive with extraordinary people of ordinary clay, cracked vessels through whom the light of God beams out. 

Find them in spiritual classics, in the writings of great saints. Some call these saints giants of the faith, though I suspect they would bristle at the term. Amidst their towering intellect and mountain-moving faith, you’ll find surprising and reassuring struggle. I’m working my way through Augustine’s Confessions, which I long avoided, expecting it to be a slog of antiquated and alien ideas. Instead, I’m meeting a man who gives voice to my own inner thoughts, feelings, and temptations. Suddenly, I’m less alone, having found an unexpected friend 1600 years my senior. 

So meet your heroes, walk with spiritual giants, let their holiness and humility and humanity inspire you to be devastatingly ordinary and fully alive to the glory of God.