When it seems storms are in short supply

I read Zephaniah 3: 17 this morning: "The Lord your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing." And I remember how several times in the Bible God tells us that he wants us to live lives of love, not of sacrifice: "for I desire mercy, and not sacrifice."

Here in Africa there are moments when I when I find myself living so richly and comfortably, and it makes me frustrated. I want to be doing something perilous and adventurous; I want to be living sacrificially. Isn't serving God in Africa supposed to be more like daring to walk a tretcherous ridgeline, or stepping out of a strorm-tossed boat and believing you can walk on water? Instead I feel like I am standing barefoot in soft, green grass.

But living for God is the same thing when it is stormy and perilous as it is when you are standing quietly in the green grass. He just wants us to be looking up to him. He is always longing to "quiet us with his love," to see our gaze lifted to him and to "rejoice over us with singing." He can do most of the saving without our help. He wants us to live lives of love and mercy regardless of whether it feels like a sacrifice or not.

This morning I went to church on the ship's hospital ward. There was drumming and dancing and rejoicing. And soon, after I write a few emails, I might go sit out on the top deck in the ocean breeze and watch the waves. And then I will have an afternoon coffee, and a delicious dinner, and a walk on the dock in the (relatively speaking) cool of evening. And tommorrow I will go to work to look after children with straightened legs, or full upper lips for the first time in thier lives, and mothers who pat my cheek and say thank you in some other language. And I will go on loving these people who are so very easy to love, and I will try to be ok with the fact that I'm not feeling too sacrificial. I'm sure my time will come.