There is something deep
Deep inside us all
Some dark night
Begging for the day
It remains a longing
Only You can fill
Only You can fill
Oh when will we ever learn
Only you can fill


This is a song they sing at St. Ben's that I like very much.

Vast

Well, I just purchased my very first computer, and I feel it is only right to break my long blog silence on this very significant occasion. As it is so clearly impossible to even begin to try to give an accurate look into what has gone on in my life and my head since I blogged last, I will not even try. Rather, I will tell a little story that happened last Tuesday that made me smile:

It was Tuesday. As per usual, I headed to house church after my biochemistry lab. Actually, it wasn't quite a usual Tuesday afternoon. First of all, I accidentally tested the wrong unknown in my biochem lab, which resulted in some tests making absolutely no sense, particuarly the Benedict's test, which I could go into, but I have a feeling that the few people who will ever read this don't really care about my Benedict's test so I will spare you the details. Anyways, just picture me making a big mistake that resulted in several tests having to be redone. This ended up being more comical than frustrating, but it did make me late leaving the school. I was getting a ride to house church with a friend of mine who lives near the university, but whose house I had never been to before, and I proceeded to walk there and get somewhat lost on the way. This involved me misreading a house number and walking the wrong way down a street. I started worrying that he was going to leave before I got there, leaving me stuck outside with no ride to church. When I finally arrived, huffing and puffing, I was assured that I would never have been left out in the cold alone, and we left for church. I had uncharacteristically intense chest pain all evening, and considered going home or possibly to the hospital, but as I was surrounded by some of my favorite people, and convinced that the pain would eventually go away, I stuck around. By prayer time, I was still in quite a lot of pain, so naturally I requested that the group pray for me. I shouldn't really be surprised by this but I was: only 10 minutes later, I was feeling significantly better. Somehow asking for prayer seems like a natural thing to do, and yet seeing an immediate answer to prayer surprises me. Perhaps I need to work on my belief in God's ability and desire to act. And so I was able to join the group in their post-church activity of the evening, which was called, "drive out into the country and lie down in a big long row under blankets in a ditch eating chips and smarties and watching the meteor shower while talking about whatever we felt like and gazing into the vastnesss, cheering out loud whenever we saw a shooting star." It was one of those times where you are leaving the city at 10 PM, knowing that you will be out late and that you have to get up early, but also knowing that there is absolutely 0% chance of you not being a part of the fun. So worth the lack of sleep. It was wonderful.

God has been so good to me. Right now, I am particularly thankful for mishaps that work out and friends and health and stars and cold nose. And though those are not all really on the same level, they are all things that remind me about the goodness and bigness and closeness of God.

Light Gives Heat

Tonight me and Kirsten went to the Forks, and we went through the Africa Village tent that they have set up. It was pretty neat - you get an iPod shuffle and follow the story through one of four real stories about a child in Africa. The pictures of beautiful people who are living a life much harder than mine reminded me of how blessed I am - and also how I need to look beyond the comfort of my own life and reach out to those who got born into a harder life than I did. There was a place at the end of the exhibit where you could write a prayer or a letter and stick it to the wall. The words of this Jars of Clay song came to mind:

Will you teach us how to love?
To see the things you see?
Walk the road you walked
Feel the pain that you feel?
At your feet I kneel
I want to see you shine
See your light, not mine
Light gives heat
Light gives heat.

I'm not sure how long the African Village is set up. It's free, so for those of you Winnipeggers who are looking for an interesting experience, you could try it out. Perhaps a bit of a World Vision advertisement, but a good reminder none the less, I think. And whether you go see the tent or not, I encourage you to think of ways to actively pursue justice for those who have done nothing to deserve their hard lot in life - just as we have done nothing to deserve our easy one. Let me know if you come up with anything good.

the disconnect

and once again, the disconnect;
these fingers of my heart that reach out and grasp
at nothing
they thought you would meet them here
that you would hear the words beneath
the ones i say
and whisper back
that i am not alone
that we are singing the same song
that we are one

but your ears heard what my heart never said
and missed the bigness of the thoughts
that begged of you an audience

so here i am
sought out but misunderstood
heard but unknown
disconnected


Over the course of this year I have started writing a poem on this theme and have never been able to finish it. I don't know that I like how it turned out this time around, but I forced it out so that I can come back and work on it rather than always starting fresh. The theme is a little depressing perhaps, but so true. I am continually reminded that if I insist on looking for someone to know me completely, I will be always disappointed. That realization of the disconnect that exists between me and every other person is a painful one. It brings me back to my thoughts of groaning that I wrote about recently. It also leaves me with a choice. Either I can accept the lonely fact that no person can hear the undertones of my heart, or I can redirect them to the only One who will ever know me.

A Hymn to God the Father

Wilt thou forgive that sin where I begun,
Which was my sin, though it were done before?
Wilt thou forgive that sin, through which I run,
And do run still: though still I do deplore?
When thou hast done, thou hast not done,
For I have more.

Wilt thou forgive that sin which I have won
Others to sin? and, made my sin their door?
Wilt thou forgive that sin which I did shun
A year, or two: but wallowed in, a score?
When thou hast done, thou hast not done,
For I have more.

I have a sin of fear, that when I have spun
My last thread, I shall perish on the shore;
But swear by thy self, that at my death thy son
Shall shine as he shines now, and heretofore;
And, having done that, thou hast done,
I fear no more.

- John Donne

Baby!

I am Tante Jans again! I was at a youth conference all weekend with my youth group (which was incredible, by the way - God so clearly at work in the lives of the youth, but that's a whole nother post), and when I got home tonight, I found out that Corrie was born on Friday shortly after I left. So I got to hold my 3 day old niece tonight for a while, and she is a cutie.