Stirred

²⁴And let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works, ²⁵not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near.

--Hebrews 10:24-25 (English Standard version)

I was thinking on this verse today after hearing it in morning class. As a Texan, I like the NIV translation, substituting the word "spur" for "stir". To spur someone is to poke them with a sharp stick. Now that's just not nice. (Although in true Texan style, I freely admit that I commonly refer to the sensation-testing pinwheel I use in my clinic as a "spur".)

Nonetheless, I think I prefer "stir". When I am stirred, I am beyond words, emotionally moved to savor something resonant and beautiful. According to an online dictionary, to stir is also to rouse, as if from indifference, and prompt to action. (Wow one could blog all day on that one!)

On a more obvious note, stirring is something done to paint, coffee drinks, and farm-fresh milk. It restores homogeneity to a mix of ingredients. Therefore, to "stir" is to agitate and dig up that which has settled to the bottom, in order to recreate wholeness. However, unless the stirring continues, the mixture stagnates and separates.

Perhaps my joy is buried beneath the cream-top layer of life's busyness. My love for others sinks below the weight of judgment. I should fill my vessel with the wholeness that only God provides, skim off the excess, and get an regular stir to keep me whole. Fellowship with believers does that very thing for me. It stirs me up, empassions me, and digs me up from under what is covering the better part of me (thank you, Incubus). Paul speaks of this in verse 25 when he focuses on meeting together. We become more of the body of Christ when all the members of the body come together.

I had opportunity this weekend to be part of something much bigger than myself. Not surprisingly, it took place in the midst of that very fellowship. My little part, combined with the actions of so many others, was multiplied into something that truly reflects the glory of God. I was prompted and stirred to step out from inaction and serve. And it was indeed stirring.

Capital I

I often sing in the shower. It is truly the perfect locale for a little morning tune. The steam instantly warms up the pipes, and the tight quarters promote a certain resonance.

What was I singing, you ask?
Sadly, I was singing a little ditty I learned in elementary school. 

This is the way I remember it:

We all live in a Capital I,

in the middle of the universe,

the center of the skies.

And all day long, we polish on our 'I'

to keep it and bright and shiny

so it lightens up the sky.

LeFou, I'm afraid I've been thinking. (A dangerous pasttime, I know.) Different song, nice segue...

I was thinking about what a silly song that was, but got to thinking that the letter I is actually in the middle of the 'unIverse' and the center of the 'skIes'. I was congratulating myself for finally picking up on some poetic nuance of the original composition, only to discover later upon Googling the song, that I had the lyrics all wrong. (For those of you who know me, this does not come as much of a surprise.) So much for deeper meaning. 

Then again, the letter I has experienced a certain resurrection in recent years. It was once only a little Greek iota, the smallest and least significant, a veritable mustard seed among letters. Apple thrust the once-oblivious vowel into utter stardom with the creation of the iPod. Now we also have the iMac, and various applications: iWork, iBank, etc. Our small group recently went through a video series on the "iMarriage". Nintendo spun it right round and added a second vowel for impact, creating the Wii system. Even the little i's do a nice bow. Then again, without 'I' we'd be devoid of ice cream, and pi (π) would just be p. That could make math a little more comical. 

During this week's sermon, we touched on the subject of evil impersonated. Upon reading Isaiah 14, I was struck by the number of times Lucifer claims, "I will." With unabashed pride, he claims equality with God, nay supremacy over God: "I will ascend to heaven, I will raise my throne above the stars of God...I will make myself like the Most High." 

I am also struck by the number of times I claim, "I will" (minus the obligatory "Lord willing" recommended in James 4). Granted, I recognize my clear inferiority to Elohim, but when I choose my own path, I am making myself into my own God, usurping the authority of the great I am. Nontheless, many of my conversations hinge upon my communicating my thoughts, my questions, my ideas, my fears, my, my, my. My generation truly is the "I generation". Even my prayers may start focused on God, then on others, but somehow my mind, like a log adrift on a wave of the sea, lands right back onto the beach of my own needs, desires, wants, and anxieties.

Dying to myself requires a constant reminder, and not just a day-to-day, but moment-to-moment sacrifice. It represents the most challenging aspect of my Christian walk. Galatians 5:24 says: You cannot belong to Christ Jesus unless you crucify all self-indulgent passions and desires.
 
I think we better put our capital I on the market. I'm sure there are plenty of buyers.

Nostalgia

Funny word: nostalgia. As I was returning from my recent trip to Bryan/College Station, Texas, I got to thinking about the word. My medical mind recognized "-algia" as the root word for pain, and suddenly I understood.

Texas A&M University in College Station, Texas is where Jon and I spent undoubtedly the best years of our young lives. This particular trip was to attend a Medical School reunion. For those unfamiliar, Texas A&M is unique in its ability to engender a sense of tradition, community, family, and lifelong loyalty. For example, former students used to wear their class rings on the ring finger of their left hand, since their spouse was the only one closer to their heart than their school. It is tradition that departed Aggies have their names read aloud in memorium at the annual Aggie Muster ceremony. Let me clarify, I am no 'Texas-Ex'. I am and always will identify myself as a Texas Aggie; I am simply a Former Student. But what a strange thing to do: to return to the locale of some of the most meaningful years of your life.

I arrived in College Station at the ripe age of 17, and it was at A&M where I learned who I really was as a person, and began to blaze a path of my own, apart from my parents. It was at A&M that my life's pursuit to serve as a rehabilitation provider was nurtured. Texas A&M taught me academics, but also taught me to be a good neighbor, citizen, benefactor, and made me part of something bigger than myself. More importantly, it was the location of my first encounter with God (at Research Park, of all places). My fellow students at A&M witnessed my decision to become a follower of Christ. It was at A&M that I met my husband Jon, along with some of the most influential people in my life. We celebrated our engagement with a trip to the Memorial Student Center and took pictures in the Flag Room. Along the columns of A&M's Administration Building is where my bridal photos were taken. We were married at the A&M Church of Christ, which will hold a precious place in my heart until I depart this earth. The Aggies For Christ planted the seed of evangelism in my heart, and I learned the pure joy of service with fellow Aggies at my side, whether at Tuesday campus devotional at the foot of the Academic Building, at Cherokee Home for Children, singing a capella atop Petit Jean in Morrillton, in a cold tent in the Grand Tetons, or at Ramkhamhaeng University in Bangkok, Thailand. To this day, I have the AFC to thank for giving me a heart for foreign missions, and for giving me a warm reunion to look forward to. We in the AFC joke that we will someday meet our fellow Aggies For Christ at "the 12th Gate." The six years I spend in Aggieland were rich. We were sure poor, but we were rich in relationships, rich in meaning, and rich in purpose.

Those riches have not diminished over the last 15 years. I, however, cannot return to that treasure chest of memories. The A&M Church of Christ has changed buildings. A new generation has stepped into my footprints. Some faces remain, but few of them recognize mine. Even College Station has morphed into a new city, one that I hardly recognized as I struggled to navigate my way past places I once called home. Campus is distinctly different, but so am I.

The reunion I had last weekend was not with my long-lost classmate acquaintances, but a reunion with the person I once was, recognizing the many steps I've taken since then. Following my departure from A&M, I weathered a lonely couple of years in my medical school clinicals, and four grueling years of residency which marked the spiritual low of my life. At Jon's side, we've stood the test of nearly 13 years of marriage, and learned a lot of lessons along the way. We've seen the birth of three children, and the death of one. We've seen friendships, faith, and family bloom here in Scottsbluff, which has strangely and unexpectedly become home for us. What a blessing it was for my worlds to collide recently, with my Aggie friends and my Scottsbluff friends meeting together in Vegas for Jon's 40th birthday.

I have no idea what the next 15 or 30 years will bring, but I can only press forward. Meanwhile, the sense of nostalgia hangs over me like a melancholy ache. I sometimes wonder if there will be 'rooms' in Heaven where we can revisit those times of joyous past. Some part of me hopes "The 12th Gate" is real, and there will be familiar faces there to greet me. I'll stand again atop that crosswalk and breathe in the strange mix of sidewalk food vendors, heat, sweat, and fumes that reminds me of Thailand. We'll summit peaks and run marathons together, laughing and singing along the way, without tiring. We'll all hike Petit Jean and sing that four-part a capella version of "May the Lord Bless You and Keep You" with the Sevenfold Amen that always makes me cry. And there will be great fellowship.

1 THESSALONIANS 4:13-18

13 Brothers and sisters, we do not want you to be uninformed about those who sleep in death, so that you do not grieve like the rest, who have no hope. 14 We believe that Jesus died and rose again, and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him. 15 According to the Lord's word, we tell you that we who are still alive, who are left till the coming of the Lord, will certainly not precede those who have fallen asleep. 16 For the Lord himself will come down from heaven, with a loud command, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet call of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first. 17 After that, we who are still alive and are left will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. And so we will be with the Lord forever. 18 Therefore encourage one another with these words.