phileo adelphos

A name is powerful. I mean, it is the foundation; the genesis of a certain thing, a person, a nation; whatever. I've always loved names, and as I grow, I gain a capacity to soak in everything names have to offer. I remember my college days. Those moments when I got acquainted to this person and that. Names filled significant volumes of my impressions of the other. Did they say first their nicknames? what people from back home referred to them as? what they wanted for me to call them? was there a deference? was there an indifference? The question I'd always end up asking is: what is your first name or your full name? Oh..? Meredith, is it? do you know what that means? oh, and what does it mean to you; aside from the lexiconic breakdown? A lot can be known or perceived from a name. A lot can be learned. A lot can be left out. A lot can be left to mystery and discovery. A name is most certainly a sensation. And also, multiple sensations. I love names.

So I cruised through a string of mysteries last year. I met many wonderful acquaintances. With these acquaintances came with unprecedented sensations. One of these acquaintances left me with wonder and such a profound pensivity. I was intrigued, but not the kind that left me barren or petulant. This acquaintance left me satisfied, hopeful, and with both deep courage and sentimental affections. He invited me into a campus of bright scholars, and entertained my intellectual side. He gave me a picture of doing theology in an admirably traditional campus of prayerfully devoted disciples. He entertained my passion for personalities. But often times, my acquaintances were disproportionate [or maybe unbalanced] in showing me the characteristics, both good and bad, of their personalities. And isn't it right that the more wretched parts of our personalities are left to the periphery of our conversations, but the picturesque is boasted and placed in the forefront. It wasn't this way.

The runned-down buildings, the narrow streets, the nakedness of embellishments and decorations, true colors rather than bright paint freshly off the palette, houses not insufficient but also not copious, both ramshackled and built to last, naturally made speed-bumps that was never-ending, a conglomeration of rich and poor, not one was marginal and not one was central, with restaurants galore, and people of all shapes, sizes, colors. He was raw, brought down to flesh; he was human. He was not ignorant of issues. He impressed me as confrontational and it felt as if his priorities were well-organized. His complexion was fair.

Phileo was his first name. Adelphos was his last.

And I'm so glad that New Jersey is where I'm at. Visiting this acquaintance has become convenient. And I cannot forget my sentiments of when I first went. It has been stained in my mind. And it truly has been so inspirational that I have visited with others. I do believe firmly that we all have something to learn from him, and certainly something to discover. I went to him with brothers whom I love. He fed us to the full and left us wanting more. I've scratched the surface of him and he is still a mystery; and maybe as I continue to excavate into the depths, he will not be as admirable as he once use to be. But that is for another day.

Today, I'm reminded how pleasant it is when brothers dwell in unity. (Psalm 133:1)