“Love worketh no ill to
his neighbor: therefore
love is the fulfilling
of the law.”
Romans 10:13 - Bible
It’s never about what you see in the moment is it?
It’s always the ‘back stories’…the characters and events
responsible for creating the ‘what’ and the ‘who’ we are. They usually remain anonymous and occur from
a mixture of time and unpredicted circumstance that frequently defy
explanation.
The grind was
catching up…
It was 1974, I was in the first year of a doctoral program,
four years and two university degrees away from the jungles of Vietnam – it had
been a dead run since leaving the military; I was tired, out of breath, out
of sorts, overwhelmed by the speed of the treadmill upon which I had been
running…needing a place to take solace from life’s maddening storm…it would come,
but would take another year.
He was already in
play…
Somewhere in the 1960s, an itinerate preacher was sent by
his church to set up a satellite congregation in the rural town of Moberly,
Missouri. He looked around for a place
to set up shop and found what had been an old tavern, outside the city limits,
that had seen better days. It might not
have been perfect, but the acre (.4 hectares) of land had a decent parking lot
and a trailer or two where people could live…yes, it would work just fine.
The ministry from which he came was not formally prepared. As happens in many evangelical churches in
this country, his elders began their religious education under some charismatic
preacher who ‘schooled them up’ in the manner to which he felt called. Consequently, there were no paid clergy,
leading young and upcoming assistant pastors to work day jobs providing for
themselves and their families. Eddie had
been brought up as an assistant minister in this manner.
He was not a big man, standing somewhere in the neighborhood
of five feet nine inches tall (1.75m).
He was gentle and sported dirt blondish hair with piercing blue,
sparkling eyes suggesting a ‘life lived’ intelligence that comes from birth and
not formal education. He listened
carefully when spoken to, with unflinching attention, as if he wanted to make
sure he understood not just what was being said, but what it meant. He was agile of body, clever of mind, and
when you shook his hand, it was clear from its touch…he was a common sense workingman.
He had no family, was a carpenter by trade and when he
wasn’t building things, preaching or caring for the sheep, he spent his time
studying the scripture. Nothing seemed
to matter to him as much as the richness of the King James Bible, seducing his
mind in youth and holding it in maturity as surely as the excitement of a gently
enticing glance turns to a deep and fulfilling love. He could not get enough, a compulsion that led
him to study, study and then study even more.
By the time he came to that old roadside tavern on Route 24 West, his
reputation for scriptural knowledge exceeded even the elders from whom he had
been sent.
She entered the game…
The early going was meager.
He led a small a small congregation of faithful women and a rotating
door of folks coming and going.
One of those women, tough and hardened by a life whose
survival required a quick wit and violence if necessary, had a conversion
experience the likes of which Eddie had never seen. She was about his height…nondescript…slender
– the kind that suggested toughness, not frailty – stringy brownish hair, and a
gap between her two front upper teeth.
Her rich, dark chocolate eyes reflected a life that had seen, if not
all, certainly more than enough. Those
eyes proclaimed that if you thought you might pull something over on her, don’t
bother…it would NEVER happen. Her voice was
mostly matter of fact, yet there were moments when it came as soothing as water
moving along a gently sloping mountain stream on a warm and lazy summer’s
day. She was not someone you would
notice in a crowd or even in a small group of people, but when her spirit came
alive there was little space it did not fill.
Her name was Theora (thee-OR-a: meaning ‘watcher’ in Greek), and in the
end, she would influence and change my life.
The dance began…
In the fall of 1975, on a whim (or at least appeared so at
the time) I visited this little church and found that I enjoyed both its
spirit-filled enthusiasm, and the amazing knowledge of the scripture these
rural, uneducated people, had. It is
hard to express how impressive it was to sit in a church service and hear
random people stand and speak extemporaneously for 10, 20, 30 minutes or more
about the scripture – quoting dozens of scriptures as they wove parables or Biblical
stories into clear and understandable narratives.
I didn’t know what those folks had been drinking, but
whatever it was, I wanted some of it. I
spent a little time with Eddie, asking him how these folk were so
knowledgeable. He said they studied the
scripture in the school at the church, and indicated Theora would be happy to
explain more to me. After chatting with
her, and getting a sense of how they studied, I asked whether I might take some
classes while finishing up the last couple of years of school. She said, sure no problem, no charge, no
judgments about the way I lived my life and no expectation that I believe
anything they taught – Really? This had
certainly NOT been my religious experience in the past – and there had been
many religious experiences!
This was a deal that was hard for me to turn down.
Fast forward…
Over the next couple of years, I found spiritual nourishment
from my newly found church family. These
people taught me things about personal discipline and work that neither the
military nor the rigors of academic life had provided. They showed me that wonders could be
performed if a person dedicated themselves to a principle rather than simply
accepting it. They worked hard, studied
hard and played hard, simply because they loved it!
It’s about real love…
Graduation was year or so away; it was time to prepare for both
oral and written exams, the barrier to pass before I could do the dissertation. It was a stressful time, because the exams
covered three years of training. There
were preparation guidelines, but they were vague enough to cause free-floating anxiety
regarding what they might ask. Would I
study enough of the right things? What
might be missed? Would there be
tricks? All of the written exams would
be essay in form – no faking it or hiding possible weak spots through multiple-choice
questions.
Two months or so prior to the exams, I mentioned to Theora I
was feeling pretty nervous about what was coming. The next day she came to me and said, “Get
all your materials together and we will start preparing Monday morning at eight
o’clock.” I’m sorry, we???
My academic work was exercise physiology. As such, I needed
to be well prepared in physiology, metabolic, biochemical and cardiovascular
content areas. The mountain seemed
pretty steep. How could this woman, who
by the way had no formal education, help me prepare for the exams? The first thoughts crossing my mind suggested
I now had an even bigger mountain to climb…the material, AND this woman who
would slow me down.
Monday morning I dutifully brought my notes and notebooks
full of an overwhelming amount of material. Theora
asked me to separate the them into individual content areas and talk her
through the areas I needed to review.
This took the first morning…yep, already slowing me down – I said
nothing.
As it turned out, this woman who didn’t know one muscle from
another, had no idea what a biochemical pathway was, could not have spelled
physiology had her life depended on it, and knew nothing more about the heart than that she had one beating
in her chest…this woman, for the next two months, day in and day out met and quizzed me on the material
until I had practically memorized everything in my notes and notebooks.
She didn’t care that she knew nothing about the material,
she cared that she loved and supported me.
While she didn’t know much about the muscle beating in her chest, she
taught me more about heart than I could possibly have learned in a lifetime. This woman gave herself TOTALLY, and without
reservation to preparing me for my oral and written examinations. In fact, the working rhythm she cultivated
with me was one of the most profound professional learning experiences of my
life.
Life rewards action…
I passed those exams with flying colors, finished the
dissertation and successfully defended the research to my doctoral advisory committee. At the end of the process, my
advisor reached out his hand and said, “Congratulations Dr. Dreisinger. Well done!”
Each committee member greeted me in kind.
As I received the handshake and congratulatory comments
there was someone else I was thinking about.
There was a woman, someone none of them would ever know…Theora, the "Watcher,” who had cared for, protected and loved me enough to sacrifice time and
energy for things she did not even understand so that I could stand before these
men. Actually, that is not correct…she
understood things these men would never know…she had seen things these men
could never imagined…she loved in ways they would never comprehend…
Her life and sacrifices – not just for my doctoral work – in
many circumstances for the sake of so many others, deeply influenced my life
going forward. Her ‘walk’ NOT her
‘talk,’ helped me understand the real power of love, obedience and
sacrifice. Her example taught me that in
the giving…and I mean the ‘no strings attached’ giving…there is a reward beyond
measure.
She has been gone now for decades, but there are moments
when I hear her voice in the quietness of my mind. Not the frank ‘matter of fact,’ one, but the
gentle, soothing, encouraging healing sounds that taught me so much.
I have little doubt she continues to watch….
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