I Have Been Called, And I Must Answer

It started with a friend’s recommendation.  My buddy Tower suggested I check out some Warhammer 40k lore stories.  I figured I would try one or two, but seventeen hours later I was still listening.  I had been pulled into a universe of sacrifice, duty, and impossible odds. What caught me was not the endless battles or the exotic settings, but the theme running through it all: ordinary people and extraordinary warriors alike confronted with the same truth.  “I have been called, and I must answer.”  Not for comfort,  not for ease, but because something greater demanded it. That phrase struck me because it is not only the heartbeat of fiction, it is the heartbeat of discipleship.

To understand Warhammer 40k, you need about 20 years of knowledge, but for our purposes you need to know two kinds of warriors.

First are the Space Marines, humanity’s demigod soldiers.  Genetically enhanced, towering over normal men, and armored in ceramite, they are bred for war.  They are what human strength could be if sculpted into a weapon.  Among them, the Imperial Fists stand out above the rest.  They are the Legion that never yields.  Their primarch Rogal Dorn taught them to be the fortress wall of humanity, masters of defense.  Their fortress monastery, the Phalanx, drifts like a city in space, a living symbol of their unbending role as guardians.  The Imperial Fists are remembered for the sieges they endured and the lines they refused to abandon.  They embody the idea of holding fast when everything else breaks. Now contrast that with the Imperial Guard, also called the Astra Militarum.  These are not superhumans,  they are us.  Ordinary farmers, miners, factory workers, and city dwellers drafted into service.  They carry standard lasguns, wear flak jackets, and stand shoulder to shoulder against horrors beyond imagination.  They know they are fragile.  They know they are replaceable, and yet they show up.  They fight and they bleed.  They hold the line not because they are invincible, but because they are faithful. The lore paints a vivid picture when you see them together.  Space Marines are what men could be if reshaped into titans.  The Imperial Guard are what men are.  Yet, both matter.  Humanity would fall without the wall of the Fists, but it would also collapse without the countless ranks of the Guard.  One shows the ideal of unshakable strength.  The other shows the nobility of ordinary sacrifice.

In that backdrop comes the story of Thaddeus Merrin, remembered as the Bane of the Tyranids.

Merrin was not a Space Marine.  He was not even a decorated officer of the Guard.  He was a farmer.  His days were filled with soil, harvest, and the rhythm of ordinary life.  But when the Tyranid swarm came, his world shattered.  The Tyranids are an extragalactic hive species, a living tide that descends on worlds and consumes every shred of biomass until nothing remains but a lifeless rock.  Against such an enemy, there is no retreat.  You stand, or you vanish. Merrin was conscripted into the Guard.  He was handed a weapon, given a uniform, and thrown into a war he could not possibly win.  He did not seek glory nor did he long for medals.  He fought because behind him were his wife and daughter, his home, and his people. What makes his tale moving is not that he became a hero, but how.  He faltered, he feared, yet he stood anyway.  In the face of terror, duty and faith pulled him forward.  That is why the name Bane of the Tyranids stuck.  Not because he was superhuman, but because he was faithful.  A man who should have been crushed became instead a defender. His story lingers because it feels so close to home.  Most of us are not warriors, but we understand what it means to protect our families, our neighbors, our communities.  Merrin is compelling because he shows us that greatness is not about being extraordinary.  It is about answering when called.

This is where the fiction speaks into reality.

We live in a world where comfort is often treated as the highest goal.  We build routines that shield us from inconvenience.  We fill our lives with distraction so we do not have to hear the quiet call of responsibility.  Yet the truth is that greatness never comes from comfort.  It comes from sacrifice. Scripture reminds us of this again and again. “For God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control.”  (2 Timothy 1:7) “Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends.”  (John 15:13) The saints echo the same call.  St. Ignatius of Loyola told his companions, “Go forth and set the world on fire.”  St. Josemaría Escrivá urged, “Don’t let your life be sterile.  Be useful.  Blaze a trail.  Shine forth with the light of your faith and of your love.”  St. Maximilian Kolbe proved it with his death, offering his life in Auschwitz for the sake of another prisoner. None of these voices promised ease.  They promise purpose.  They promise that answering the call costs something, but that it is worth it.

You and I will never face an alien swarm (God willing).  However we will face challenges that are just as relentless. The Tyranids in our lives might look like the slow erosion of a marriage when we stop choosing one another.  They might look like the weariness that tempts us to quit praying.  They might look like the indifference that eats away at our communities when no one wants to step forward.  They might look like fear, addiction, or despair. Like the farmers conscripted into the Guard, we do not feel ready.  We do not feel strong enough.  Have faith, for the call is not to be extraordinary, the call is to be steadfast.  The call is to rise and to stand, even when we would rather rest. Answering the call might mean putting away the phone and giving your family your full attention at the dinner table.  It might mean showing up to volunteer when it would be easier to stay home.  It might mean saying no to the easy path, and yes to the costly one because you know it is right.  These are not cinematic acts of heroism.  They are daily acts of faithfulness.  They are the walls that keep the darkness at bay. That is what struck me so deeply about the Imperial Fists, the Imperial Guard, and the story of Thaddeus Merrin.

The Fists reminds us that we are called to hold the line, to be steadfast in faith, to endure when others would give up.  The Guard reminds us that it is not the mighty, but the ordinary who bear the true weight of history, showing up day after day, nameless but faithful. Merrin reminds us that even a farmer can become a blade or shield when love demands it. The lore is fiction, but the truth beneath it is eternal.  We have all been called; the only question is whether we will answer.

“I have been called, and I must answer.”  The line stays with me because it leaves no room for excuses.  The call has already come.  God has already asked us to take our place. So the question is not if you are called, it is whether you will answer.  Will you stand for your marriage?  Will you guard your children?  Will you defend your faith in a mocking world?  Will you serve your parish, your community, your neighbor? Like the Imperial Fists, will you be unyielding?  Like the Imperial Guard, will you keep showing up even when no one notices?  Like Thaddeus Merrin, will you love enough to fight for what matters most?

Greatness will never be comfortable.  But it will always be worth it.

Yours in Christ,

Andrew