Yesterday after presentations in Hermeneutics we went to my friend Marv’s house to make breakfast. Keith and Marv cooked fritatta while Josh and I ran to the grocery store for bacon, yogurt and berries. Corey and Luke were there too, and we listened to Sujan Christmas carols while we cooked, sat around the high-top table and argued philosophy, doctrine and theology. We promised we’d do it again next semester–next year! Because these breakfasts (three in total now) have been so life giving to all of us.
We have shared prayer requests over homework assignments, laughed about gender differences, advised, cajoled, rebuked and loved. This is, perhaps, one of my best experiences in community. I’ve been the only woman and that’s been interesting (more on that later). But it’s almost like a little tribe within our class. We sit together, we tease, we walk out together, study together, do assignments together, we eat together, check up on each other and pray for one another in real honesty.
I wish I had a picture to share with you of all my boys, as I call them with some non-Seminarian friends. There’s tall and lanky Cole with dark hair and a soft Texan drawl. He works twenty hours and takes too many credits. Keith has three kids and a quiet sweet wife, he is gentle but knows when to correct. Corey has no hair except the shadow on his face, he ends every conversation with werd and is the pro to-typical California kid. Josh I knew from high school, with too much hair that is now under control, his wife is short and sweet and funny, he’s sarcastic but kind and willing to call men to account. Luke may be the tallest, skinniest of the bunch, who climbs mountains and makes worship music that is trying to break free of the Christian music mold. Marv is a bit taller than me, with an easy gait, a wide smile, bright eyes and a heart for preteens with a memory that amazes even me. There are others who filter in and out–Justin, Ted, and once or twice Jonny has come around. But these are the ones with whom I held hands yesterday and prayed over our remaining finals, our spiritual vitality, our families, friends, our fears and hopes for the school break and beyond.
These are the men are teaching me what it means to be treated well, by a good man. The ones who care about me. Who hug me. Who listen and don’t discard.
and somehow, in the greatness of his foreknowledge, God put us all in the same classroom, in the two back rows and decreed that we’d be friends. I think that makes him pretty rad.