Tai Chi

For the last week, every morning when I leave for the hospital, there's an Asian man standing in the grass by the shelter doing tai chi. His clothing is simple: a rumpled khaki button down shirt and shorts. Most mornings there's a little mist coming off of the pond and the silence, combined with the mist and the green surroundings, is almost too real to be in front of me and not on the pages of a book or the big screen. For a few moments I'm not in Columbia, Missouri. He moves, slowly and confidently, his arms making shapes that flow from one form to the next with liquid precision. I'm transfixed, amazed, transported. And it's not that he seems so out of place that freezes me in my tracks. It's his focus.

I'd give anything to have focus like that. In the midst of a living, breathing city where thousands are waking, fixing their breakfast, brushing their teeth, this man seems so calm, so quiet. Imagine if we could all adopt that kind of focus in the midst of a million things to do by five o'clock. The only place I can think of where I've felt anything close to what I see in this man is in my prayer time. When I'm listening to God, the world could fall apart and I'm pretty confident I wouldn't notice until I said got up off my knees. Does that mean that those times when I feel so unfocused, so strewn about in my day to day activities, I'm actually stepping away from the throne? Is it possible that our focus shifts from the King of Kings to our surroundings and that's why we all feel so stressed?

I don't know if this man is a Christian. I don't know what he hears during this time each day. Does he hear God? Does he hear nature? Does he focus on his own heartbeat or the movement of his chest in and out as he breaths? Who knows. I should probably ask. I know that the Lord would have me ask myself why it is that there are times when I allow my own heartbeat to drown out His voice as He beckons me to His feet. The real question is, with this awareness, do I focus on Jesus as He says "Come" or the distracting lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub of my life?

The Call

There comes a time when we all must decide what's important and what's not. Am I going to worry about how someone else might feel just because I've come to the conclusion that devoting myself to this daily calling is more important than anything else? Why don't people understand that when God calls, you have NO choice but to answer? And it's not like I feel forced. There's a place in my soul that says "YES! Yes God, I'll make this calling my breath and sustenance and trust You for EVERYTHING else."

How do I describe this? What's the best way to explain to the world just how I feel about becoming a doctor? Being obedient to God and answering His call is like inhaling for the first time. When that voice comes to you in the stillness of your soul, every nerve in your body tingles to life and your own voice bucks at the opportunity to escape your lips and say "Here am I!". I can only imagine how the prophet Samuel felt as a child in the temple when God called his name in the dark. It must have been magnificent and humbling and frightening and filling all at the same time.

I feel so free! I feel so wealthy! And yet, I know right down to my toes that I have nothing of my own. I'll take THIS servitude over being indebted to anything or anyone else any day. In Christ I'm the freest servant, the wealthiest debtor, and the greatest of His least. I'd gladly prostrate myself before the King for all eternity because I know, in the end, He lifts your head and the chance to look in His eyes is worth a billion lifetimes of servitude.

What's the good news? Heaven isn't even like that. We're told we get to rule by Christ's side as co-inheritors of eternity. I can't even fathom! If we're wealthy now with empty hands lifted in praise, can you imagine the riches of heaven when we can lay our crowns at His feet? There is no end to the wealth of His love. There is no "You are Here" star that marks where we are in His favor. It just IS. He just IS. And the call to serve is so strong, so powerful. It reverberates down my spine and shakes me to my core. What's left when the smoke clears? My heart. And it's full. So full.