Friday, February 03, 2006

regathering

So we had another Convocation service on Wednesday—the Regathering service—and I went because I thought: hey, I’m a senior. And it’s my last chance to do this kind of thing! I loved seeing the slide show of all the interim off-campus trips… so jealous of all the students who traveled! It was good to see the familiar faces and professors and everyone… but I was really blown away by the message.

The speaker was Gary Haugen, of the International Justice Mission. He was talking about the Unfamiliar Passions of God, and I was so impressed with his message. (Some times it can be hit and miss with speakers, you know? But he was really amazing. He spoke well—very interesting, funny, great points.) I ended up scribbling notes all the way around my program, about God’s passion for the world and His passion for justice. Mr. Haugen had so much to say about the call on the Body of Christ—the Church—to act in the world and to show God’s goodness to other people.

But what really got me—what made me crawl out of bed last night, looking for pen and paper—was his little story about a Rwandan girl. She had survived the massacres and he had to interview her, and as he watched her he was struck by such a sense of God’s love for her. God’s deep passion for and attention to this one little eight-year-old girl. This one.

That so moved me. Last night I was thinking about the times when I feel more or less accidental. (Not in the evolutionary result-of-millions-of-chances sense. Just in the aimless sense.) Do you know what I mean? It’s hard to describe. Not in a sympathy-begging “forgotten” way, but more that my being here, my existence, wasn’t an intentional move on Someone else’s part.

It’s so easy for me to lose focus—it’s in the little things. Those blah days, when it hurts unspeakably just to get out of bed, and my eyes, mouth, and brain all feel gritty. (Then the first thing I see is my pillow-battered face reflected in the bathroom mirror, under those fluorescent lights. Fluorescent lights are very bad for my sense of perspective.) Or when the coffee has turned cold too quickly—and I realize that the milk I added to my mug was spoiled. When the walk home from work feels twice as long and twice as quiet. When my hands won’t warm up. When I’m tired. Sore.

These days I’ve been feeling the teeniest bit hassled, trying to tame my spring schedule, trying to not feel nervous and seven years old at my internship, trying not to have fits every time I think about graduation, trying to breathe slowly, wash dishes, take out the trash, nap.

I am very spiritually nearsighted, as I’ve discovered. I can see up close really well. Everything else kind of blurs. (Funnily enough, this is true of my real vision also, but that doesn’t come in here.) So easy for me to see myself clearly (though that’s probably false as well). But I can see my worries and their long shadows, my hopes matched by my exhaustion.

Strange how I don’t think to look at God.

So last night I sat up, thinking about the Rwandan girl, and how God thought of me, specifically me and all my neuroses, my goofiness, the things that make me laugh and shiver and cry. He designed all the things that work in me, and—as Mr. Haugen said on Wednesday—He wanted me in this world.

That’s a very big thing. Chilling, actually. It’s hard for me to not dismiss it or diminish it. Think about that. It’s true for you as well. We’re none of us accidental. God wanted each of us here. We are alive because God thought of us. (Figments of a divine imagination? But more than figments.)

Not to sermonize late on a Friday morning, but it’s something that I have to stop and remember. Frequently. The next step—also from Mr. Haugen—is to bring all of our gifts and talents to God, because He is the one who can do something amazing with them.

Oh. This has gotten very long, and I was going to tell you all about my classes. They’ve been interesting and challenging already, but I’ll have to keep you in suspense over details for awhile… I’ll post more soon.—jl

Posted by Jenn Langefeld on 02/03 at 12:03 PM
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