This morning I was really moved by a song called, “Oh, My God” by Jars of Clay. The song moved me to tears as I considered the ways I subconsciously ignore suffering and overlook people in need. There are several lines particularly that are striking. “All the comforts of cathedrals” causes me to question the comfort level created by the four walls of our local churches. Often, I find myself so busy doing the work of the ministry that I fear I may be missing the true work of the ministry. If true religion is looking after widows and orphans, how often am I accomplishing this. How often do I look outside the walls of my cathedral to see those in need?
The truth is I like the comfort of my cathedral. I like it, so I consume more. Like gaining physical weight, I do not realize I am getting too comfortable until a sudden day of realization occurs. I don’t notice the few pounds as they are added, then suddenly I am 50 pounds overweight. Day by day, I do not realize that I am becoming too disconnected with the true needs of this world. I do not realize I am engulfed in my own world, often of selfishness. Please God help me to not grow too comfortable in my cathedral.
I encourage you to listen to the song, and consider the words. Are there any lines that speak to you?
Sometimes I cannot forgive
And these days, mercy cuts so deep
If the world was how it should be, maybe I could get some sleep
While I lay, I dream we’re better,
Scales were gone and faces light
When we wake, we hate our brother
We still move to hurt each other
Sometimes I can close my eyes,
And all the fear that keeps me silent falls below my heavy breathing,
What makes me so badly bent?
We all have a chance to murder
We all feel the need for wonder
We still want to be reminded that the pain is worth the thunder
Sometimes when I lose my grip, I wonder what to make of heaven
All the times I thought to reach up
All the times I had to give
Babies underneath their beds
Hospitals that cannot treat all the wounds that money causes,
All the comforts of cathedrals
All the cries of thirsty children – this is our inheritance
All the rage of watching mothers – this is our greatest offense
Oh my God
Oh my God
Oh my God