Poetry

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Dreaming of Being a Godly Man

Just another stressed-out missionary doing the best he can,
just another stressed-out missionary dreaming of being a Godly man.


Visa application running out of time,
bureaucracy simply blowing my mind.
If we flee, who will know?
When we run, where will we go?
Will they kick us out when we are trying to do good,
or will they hear our story, will we be understood?


Just another stressed-out missionary doing the best he can,
just another stressed-out missionary dreaming of being a Godly man.


A mother who believed what the post office said would be,
and our Christmas present lost at sea.
Her children at the other side of the world doing things she cannot understand,
simply holding on, serving God in a foreign land.
Two dollars-fifty-per-minute Christmas phone call serves a mean trick,
conversation, Christmas greetings, relationship, forced to be painfully quick.


Just another stressed-out missionary doing the best he can,
just another stressed-out missionary dreaming of being a Godly man.


A keyboard in Russian and English as I find the words to say,
screaming, pushing kids, blaring music at the internet cafe.
An average of a sent email every two minutes,
rushed, quick and shallow friendships.
Loved people, friends, family, pastors, prayer team, wonder how they feel,
forced into a two-minute slot, seeing a side of me that isn't real?


Just another stressed-out missionary doing the best he can,
just another stressed-out missionary dreaming of being a Godly man.


Praying over the letter box hoping it will produce mail.
Oh for a letter and a cuppa coffee, oh to relax and read a friend's tale.
Praying in care packages and gifts lost in eternity,
knowing some will stay lost, some were never sent and others will arrive eventually.
The joy of writing a letter saying, 'I feel, I live, this is my life, know me, hear my cry',
to discover that my closer friends are simply too busy to reply.


Just another stressed-out missionary doing the best he can,
just another stressed-out missionary dreaming of being a Godly man.


Oh God, I want to speak English, I want to worship in English today,
from the pulpit, in English, God, I want to hear what you have to say.
I don't want to be cold, I don't want to go out in the snow and sit in a bus full of ice,
I don't want to cook in an ill-equipped kitchen, I want to eat something nice.
I want to wash my clothes in a washing machine, I desperately want to have something clean,
I don't want to walk across the carpet and see where I have been.


Just another stressed-out missionary doing the best he can,
just another stressed-out missionary dreaming of being a Godly man.

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