Let worship be the fuel for mission’s flame
We’re going with a passion for Your name
We’re going for we care about Your praise
Send us out

Matt Redman

In the last 8 years, I have visited Harrismith, a small rural town, one of millions of tiny dots on the world map, six times. I’ve spent 24 weeks – nearly 6 months – of my adulthood in this place. Each time I return, I feel like I’ve been away for a few days: friendships pick up where we left off, as if no time has passed at all.

Back in England, I pounce on every accented black person I meet, eager to practice my Sotho, or my Zulu. It’s rare that a week passes where I don’t look up the weather in Harrismith, or hover ethereally over the town in Google Maps.

There’s a little something of Africa in my blood – hopefully not TB, bilharzia or malaria – its a passion. A passion to see the beautiful people of this beautiful country filled with joy, to learn from them the lessons of glory that they have learnt, and passing on to them the glimpses of the Kingdom we see in the west.

On this trip, we have worshipped in many ways: as a family in prayer; saying grace over meals with friends; playing guitar with the worship team; filling in charity paperwork; clapping and dancing in the township; buying Christmas presents for orphans; and sitting on the bonnet of my car, looking at the sky.

Through it all, so far, no bushes have burst into flame, no clouds have cracked open with a deep bass voice proclaiming how I must lead my family. Yet, when we tell people here that this might be our last trip, that we are waiting to hear from God on whether we should come to stay, not one person has given the faintest credence to the possibility that we might not return.

When we left England, there was a great deal of fear inside me, fear that I would not find out the answer to the question: what is His plan for us? That question remains, but the fear is gone. Just as 3 weeks ago, there was only a sliver of a moon in the night sky, tonight the moon is full, and so is the hope for our future.

Lord, send us out.

So, as you probably know, myself and Katherine are currently on holiday in Corralejo. We have been here about a week and a half, and go home on Wednesday.

Before we set out, we vaguely looked up churches in Fuerteventura, and discovered, to our mild surprise, that there is an English fellowship in the town of Corralejo itself. Faros Christian Fellowship meets each Sunday in the building of a Spanish evangelical church.

So we went, and met some lovely, friendly, swimming-pool-owning people. And last week, they were chatting about music at church, and how in 7 years, they have never had any english people who have been able to lead worship. Feeling a little self conscious, I volunteered. Katherine always hates “loves” it when I do something like volunteering to sing and play guitar poorly in front of a group of strangers.

So I led worship this morning and it went really well. In fact, in my preparation, I ended up writing a worship song, which is something I’ve rarely done before – usually everything I write ends up almost invariably as a punk song.

The most encouraging thing was something pointed out at church, the well known verse about not hiding your light under a basket – the point being that if we have things of value to share, we should do, even if it might be embarrassing, hard work, or even not very good.

Anyway, that’s all for now. I will leave you my my song, sans tune:

Forgive my slowness

Lord I spend my days struggling.
Trying to get my brain around your being.
I can’t control my faith.
I need you to inhabit me, take “me” away.

Jesus, come into my soul.
Make me for granted, firebrand me yours.
Jesus, come make me whole.
My heart is yours, my will is yours,
Forgive my head – it’s way too slow.

And every day’s filled with what I want not to do.
I find myself, again and again, appalling you.
Is this battle for my actions won or – lost for me?
Can these good intentions pave something heavenly?

Jesus, come into my soul.
Make me for granted, firebrand me yours.
Jesus, come make me whole.
My heart is yours, my head is yours,
Forgive my will – it’s way too slow.

When my neighbour hurts me,
My instinct never expresses itself gracefully.
My thoughts, my cares, desires – all my love inside -
So easily overuled by this hateful tide.

Jesus, come into my soul.
Make me for granted, firebrand me yours.
Jesus, come make me whole.
My will is yours, my head is yours,
Forgive my heart – it’s way too slow.