Wanna job-swap? 'Cause I think it might be fun.
We have a lot in common, you and me. We're both writers, and singers. We've both got a passion for the poor and the marginalized. You've got the whole skinny-suit, great-hair Doctor Who thing going on. Me, I'm more Donna Noble.
You put together the Compassionart project. Great idea. Looks like a lot of fun, and I hope it does a lot of good.
You brought together a bunch of warm, talented people – musicians, writers, singers, worship leaders, American, English, Australian - to create something new and cool.
I've put together a bunch of warm, talented people – bakers, writers, lovers, Baptist and Pentecostal, gay and straight, cynical and hopeful – to create something new and cool.
You've got a really good band, and you travel the world making really good music.
I've got a bunch of punchy, bewildered hobbits, making really good meals and hope and friendship.
You've got an audience of millions for the articles you write about worship, and the songs and the interviews.
I've got a blog with an average daily readership of point 2.
You've got a platform to share your passion and your heart and to see things happen because of the things you do and say.
I'm having conversations that are exciting, but I can't tell you anything about them either because they're private, or because if the wrong person heard about them, the roof would fall in.
You've got the hardwood and glass and rarified air of Abbey Road.
I've got the raccoons and sticky carpet of the Sherwood Room.
To be honest, I get a bit jealous. I see what you and your friends are doing, and what you'll leave behind and I compare it to my little spark, cradled in my hand, being kept alive by the breath of the few of us who bend close enough blow on it. And I wish...
It can get a bit discouraging, being small, believing you're capable of more. Wondering why God puts some of us here, and some of us there. Pressing your nose against the window, wondering what that feast tastes like.
What I'm doing is necessary and good and, I believe, a God-vision. But at the same time, the professionally produced making-of documentary, on the 42 inch TV, with the studio time and the music making and the MacBooks is so seductive and lovely. I wish, I wish, I wish.
But if I weren't doing what I'm doing, who would? If I hadn't started out for Mordor, who would have?
Maybe God would have tapped someone else. I don't know. And I have no regrets.
But I have dreams.
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