Because of the gift

An excerpt from someone who writes and sings much better than I.

I have lost my appetite!
And a flood is welling up behind my eyes
So I eat the tears I cry...

And if that were not enough !
They know just the words to cut! And tear and prod,
When they ask me “Whereʼs your God?”

Why are you downcast, oh my soul?
Why so disturbed within me?
I can remember when you showed your face to me

As a deer pants for water, so my soul thirsts for you
And when I survey Your splendor, You so faithfully renew.
Like a bed of rest for my fainting flesh!

When Iʼm looking at the ground...
Itʼs an inbred feedback loop that drags me down
So itʼs time to lift my brow
And remember better days

There's something pleasingly angsty about this reinterpretation of Psalm 42. I've listened to it a few times now. I'm thinking about heading to Africa next year. I remember once listening to a song in church, sung by the youth pastor of all people. It's about a guy who lives a comfortable life, but can't quite shake something.

 It was entitled 'Please don't send me to Africa.' Strangely I think that's where my curiosity may have been sparked.

Oh Lord I am your willing servant
You know that I have been for years
I'm here in this pew every Sunday and Wednesday
I've stained it with many a tear
I've given You years of my service
I've always given my best
And I've never asked you for anything much
So, Lord I deserve this request

Please don't send me to Africa
I don't think I've got what it takes
I'm just a man, I'm not a Tarzan
Don't like lions, gorillas or snakes
I'll serve you here in suburbia
In my comfortable middle class life
But please don't send me out into the bush
Where the natives are restless at night


I'll see that the money is gathered
I'll see that the money is sent
I'll wash and stack the communion cups
I'll tithe eleven percent
I'll volunteer for the nursery
I'll go on the youth group retreat
I'll usher, I'll deacon , I'll go door to door
Just let me keep warming this seat

So much to think about.