The Gospel According to Luther – Heggs, that is

It was touch and go there for a moment. Luther Heggs (played by Don Knotts), the goofy and high-strung type setter for the local newspaper, had just finished what he described as the best "pounded steak he had ever eaten" at the table of the beautiful town darling Alma Parker (played by Joan Staley) in the classic movie The Ghost and Mr. Chicken. Now the pair of unlikely romantics had adjourned to the front porch. They swam under conversational water for painfully long moments, appreciating the stars, reiterating how filling the meal had been. Luther tried to break the ice with a few subtle karate chops to the night air, and when Alma took the bait and inquired, Luther smugly acknowledged that he had been studying karate for years by mail. More silence ensued. Eventually, Luther admitted to the awkward mismatch. "When you have an average guy and an above average girl…well, Mr. Average is mighty proud to be sitting here with Miss Above Average." But when Luther finally worked up the nerve to reach his arm around behind Alma's shoulders and she mirrored his smile, you had to taste some measure of confidence that all just might turn out right with the world. Ultimately, after enjoying some newfound celebrity, enduring potential humiliation and shame, and suffering nail-biting terrors, Luther eventually catches the crook and cements his heroic fame. "I made my whole body a weapon," he explained.

And that's the clarification that grabbed me. It usually requires that, doesn't it? I think about how many endeavors get far less of me; how many times I make half…um…hearted efforts at accomplishing noble undertakings, and often the results bear glaring, blaring witness. Most of the people whose accomplishments I admire -- average people, every one -- have followed Luther Hegg's example: they have marshaled the whole of themselves to face the usually above-average task at hand. They made their whole body a weapon.

Here, at the beginning of a new week, I recognize that not everything requires that kind of engagement. But surely a thing or two will come along that do not simply ask for more. They may well tolerate my awkward discomfort, and endure my banal conversation, but before the moment is finished will demand the rest that I have to offer.

Luther made his whole body a weapon, and as a result saved the day – and the girl.

We'll see what I manage to get done.