When you're just plain irritated …
There’s nothing wrong with the words, it’s just the way she says them. Write those words out in pen and ink and they’d look just fine. But why spoken into the air do they feel like little jabs? I can’t put my finger on it, but somewhere in my heart there’s a bee sting. I can feel it.
I come in out of the cold, kick off my boots and check the fire. It’s still lit but it’s cooled. I can see glowing embers down below, but the logs lay heavy on top and not much heat is coming out.
I grab the poker and remove the screen. This is my favorite part of wood-stove heat. Stoking the fire. I wield my poker and shove it deep under the logs, flip them over and poke around at the glowing embers beneath. Instantly heat rushes out, envelopes me in warmth. It’s so hot I have to put the poker down, replace the screen and sit back a bit. I lean against my old quilted pillows, close my eyes, remember these words:
And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds. (Hebrews 10:24)
Of course.
We know this verse, know we’re called to spur one another on, but do we understand what it means to spur?
That word, translated “spur” is paroxusmos which literally means “to irritate.” Consider: How do you spur on a horse? By nudging it with your spurs! That is, applying just enough pressure, or irritation, to get its attention and make it move.
Isn’t this how I’d just stoked the fire? By poking it. By digging, jabbing that poker down into the embers, flipping over the logs, stirring it up a bit with some strategic irritation.
Every day I partake in my beloved stoking ritual. I poke and prod and stir up warmth to keep our house heated.
To keep the fire burning.
Aren’t we supposed to do the same for each other? And truly, isn’t that what this person had done for me? I’d felt a little unnerved, a little irritated. And didn’t this stir me up a bit? Didn’t it flip over my log and expose the underside that desperately needed attention? Didn’t it turn a cold side over and let it find flame? White-hot purifying flame that burns the impurities away?
It did just that.
The problem is that I thought I loved that verse. But I don’t like the poking part. At least not in real life. Poking on the page is just fine — but poking in person? No thank you.
But if that’s the case then I don’t really love that verse. Then I don’t really understand that verse or obey that verse.
True Christian fellowship always involves irritation.
Our lives are purified by people-pokes. Dozens of them. Isn’t it the loving hand of the Father who wields the poker? And hasn’t He ordained that we would live, grow, be sanctified in community?
But all this poking is not what we had in mind when we signed up for “community” is it? In the words of Dietrich Bonhoeffer,
“He who loves his dream of community more than the Christian community itself becomes a destroyer of the latter, even though his personal intentions may be ever so honest and earnest and sacrificial.”
Let’s be honest: Our dream Christian community don’t involve stokes, pokes, and irritations.
But real Christian community does. In fact, biblical Christian community does. Sure, some pokes are the result of other’s sin. But some are the sanctified spurs — one saint to another.
Do we want to be spurred? I do.
I don’t like the feel but I love the fruit.
–
{Revisiting this … Who has irritated you lately? How might this have been the gentle prodding of a loving Father? How can you be spurred on toward love because of it? Perhaps I’ve irritated you? Thanks for reading, for grace, and for sanctified spurs — one saint to another.}
Because there's only one way to have old friends …
We were inseparable that year: Janae, Courtney, Bernadette and me, four freshman at OSU on the 5th floor of McNary Hall. We had weekly Ben & Jerry’s runs, lots of late nights huddling in the dorm-kitchen (the only place that was warm) and way too many times discovering that the boys had switched around the peephole on our door. So when the year came to a close it was Janae who suggested the idea:
“We could all live together–with four other girls–at Red Door next year.”
Hmm… I’d only met Brita and Hannah once or twice.
I’d never even met Zephyr or Jill.
And what on earth was Red Door?
“Sure!”
{I miss that endearing quality of college students–game for anything, even rooming with strangers!}
The day I moved in I met Zephyr for the first time. She was 6-feet tall barefoot and totally gorgeous. Jill was a smarty weather-girl who did the forecast for the Eugene news. Hannah and Brita were bubbling with smiles and always laughing and I soon discovered the gold-mind of Brita’s closet. (I miss the blessings of our open-closet policy!)
Mindy’s name wasn’t on the lease but she camped on our couch and brought the greatest conversations and thought-provoking questions. Chelle came after I moved out, but our lives crossed over so much it felt like we’d shared a room.
And that made 10 RDGs.
Before we moved in I learned the story of the Red Door Girls. An old, quaint house right off the campus at OSU housed generations of Christian girls, a legacy I knew nothing about until I was so blessed to become part of it myself. Just another example of how God’s gifts find us.
Without really knowing it, we were handed down a legacy of hospitality, joy, purity and faith. Our home was like a warm embrace, and it was always full. We had weekend dance parties and weekly Bible studies. Fresh cookies by the dozens flowed from our kitchen. There were always boys — lots of them — lingering in the sunroom or lounging on the couch, enjoying a cookie, a smile, a conversation, or just a long afternoon in a peaceful house that smelled better than their own. Jeff Patterson appeared every so often, but only because his best friend, Benjy, was marrying my housemate Zephyr (the one I’d never met).
So funny how things work together.
That was almost 13 years ago, when Janae made the simple suggestion that changed the course of our lives. Since that time we have celebrated every wedding (all 10!) and the birth of every single baby.
Twenty-one babies to be exact.
Yes, these ten girls have multiplied. We are now 41 in all. Ten girls, ten spouses, and 21 children birthed in just 7 years (and one more on the way!). And just recently we had the honor of all gathering together for a New Year celebration. We were only missing three husbands, two children, and one RDG.
Not bad.
I had no idea what I was getting into that day 13 years ago when I said, “Sure!”
I had no idea the friendship, joy, love, and blessing I’d receive. I had no idea that these strangers in my house would become soul-mates in my heart. I had no idea that this Zephyr, who I’d never met, would marry a man named Benjy who was the very man who led Jeff Patterson to Christ.
I just had no idea.
But isn’t that how it always is? We never have any idea what God is doing in the mundane moments of life. We, I, so often cling to all that is familiar, controlled. How often do I look into a complete unknown and simply say, “Sure!”?
But what if we did? What if we gave that new relationship a shot? A real go? We all love old friends but the only way to have old friends is to spend a long time with new ones.
Right?
I’m thankful. I think that’s what I’m saying. I’m thankful to be a RDG (and the RDGs that followed us are blessed women as well!) and thankful that even when I had no clue, God’s gracious gifts came and found me.
How have God’s gifts found you when you least expected it? And in what unknown situation or new relationship could you say “Sure!” … believing He has something sacred in store? Thanks all for reading, and to my dear Red Door sisters, I love you beyond words!
