Sunday
We elected to have our own church service in our dining hall after breakfast this morning. Scott Tricket organized the service with the help of Pastor John, Pastor Steve, and Pastor Duane. Tim Shields sang a solo during the offering. There were about four other main parts to the service: A time to walk the campus alone in search of whatever God might reveal to us and then meditate and record our thoughts answering the question why? When we regrouped we had a time of sharing those thoughts with each other. Then we heard a brief message from each pastor which led us into a time of confession and prayer. Many came forward. We prayed for quite a while then closed with a song. Some of the girls and tias participated in the service with us. Cora translated in Spanish.
Some of the shares were exceptionally well thought out with deep meaning. With their permission I’ll attempt to share some of them with you. I have one so far, by Stephanie Wilkins (in poetic form):
Such vast variety!
Weeds that look like wheat
The lovely flowers that grow
Hidden mountains
Valleys too
Each of these makes me run to You!
Habitat so humble
Nothing grand to see
Until you look into brown eyes
And see the plea
For a kiss, a hug
For just a little love-
Love was the reason
Jesus died for you and me
But for all of these as well:
These with the ready smiles
And eyes full of questions:
Do you even see me?
Can you hear my simple cry?
Was I only born to die?
Who will point them to the One
Who was born to die;
The only One who can give them
Abundant life, peace, and joy
In the midst of strife?
Who will tell them the story?
Who will take them by the hand?
Is there anyone?
When I go to my promised rest
Will they be there one day
To share the joy and delight
Of all God has promised and prepared
For each of His own
The children of His glory?
Will I see their faces there?
Will I see their faces there
In the mansion windows
Looking out at me?
After church we hopped on the bus with our homemade empanadas and enjoyed a relaxing time of shopping and dinner in the small village of Pomaire, Chile.