"For I know that my Redeemer lives, and at the last he will stand upon the earth. And after my skin has been thus destroyed, yet in my flesh I shall see God, whom I shall see for myself, and my eyes shall behold, and not another." -Job 19:25-27

I was reminded of this verse in the sermon this morning. There is something about its promise that "in my flesh I shall see God, whom I shall see for myself, and my eyes shall behold, and not another" that never fails to be a comfort and a reassurance to me. And though they aren't directly connected, it was still comforting to me this afternoon talking to NDB about our worries about next year. Though what we were speaking of meant that we would be prevented from getting married next summer because of a few hundred dollars a month, which is simultaneously a lot and not very much, this verse kept coming into my mind and reassuring me of the promises I have been given.

My father owns the cattle on a thousand hills.
He doesn't give his sons a snake when they ask for bread.
"Once I was young and now am I old, but I have never seen the righteous hungry, nor their children begging bread."
"Give us this day our daily bread"
"he that is able to do much more than we could ask or think will thereby freely give us all things"

Even in the midst of our conversation- in the midst of the worry and doubt that was found there - I had no doubts that I think this plan is what God wants us to follow. I have no qualms about this at all. No matter what it requires of me- unless and until God leads me otherwise, I am willing to put all that I have towards this. I'm all in.

After I left him, I started looking at some numbers of my own, and I found something that might make this a possibility. I haven't any details yet, but I'm sure going to look into them....

I am weary this evening. Weary of this struggle with her, weary of this annoying pain in my hip, weary of people who don't understand each other. All around me I see weary, downtrodden people who are dearer to me than my energy. If I could give some of my energy or my joy or my peace to them, depleting my already low store and replenishing theirs, I would do it. But, that is not the way that we are allowed to bear each others' burdens. And this inability to bear with my brethren in this way weighs on me, though I know full well that it is impossible.

I want to help someone. I want to feel like I have something I can give that makes someone's load a little lighter. Something meaningful. I'm tired of running office errands and scanning photographs and sending mail and being a human filing cabinet. I want to do something that matters.

I want to rest. I want rest that keeps me feeling rested past chapel. I want to not wake up feeling sore and like I could have slept for a lot longer. I want to stop waking up before or after my alarm, and start waking up when it goes off.

I want to start working on Thorn for next year. A stack of thirteen beautiful volumes of a college's heart-thoughts bound up in paper and ink and staples and glue. I want to begin the process of making my own. I know that this will start out with a lot of learning, and I am anxious to do so. I want to find out all of the details about publishing and editing and layout while I am still fresh and full of zeal for it. I want to find a copy of each Thorn published to date and make copies or scans of them so that I can have my own library of thoughts from Covenant College.