Marching Orders

I was listening to the broadcast of Founder's Week last night on the radio and Sara Groves was talking about a trip to Rwanda and the testimony of a woman kidnapped and sold into prostitution that greatly changed her vision of Christianity. She said that these encounters made her realize that her Christianity was very much a self-help Christianity. Her relationship with God was one of personal growth rather than kingdom work. Then she sang this song that brought tears of vision to my own eyes:

When The Saints
by Sara Groves (go here to listen to it and be sure to read the About Sara Groves--it's white--further on down on the right side of the page)

Lord I have a heavy burden of all I've seen and know
It's more than I can handle
But your word is burning like a fire shut up in my bones
and I can’t let it go


And when I'm weary and overwrought
with so many battles left unfought

I think of Paul and Silas in the prison yard
I hear their song of freedom rising to the stars
And when the Saints go marching in
I want to be one of them

Lord it's all that I can't carry and cannot leave behind
it all can overwhelm me
but I think of all who've gone before them and lived the faithful life
their courage compels me

And when I'm weary and overwrought
with so many battles left unfought

I think of Paul and Silas in the prison yard
I hear their song of freedom rising to the stars

I see the shepherd Moses in the Pharaohs court
I hear his call for freedom for the people of the Lord

And when the Saints go marching in
I want to be one of them
And when the Saints go marching in
I want to be one of them

I see the long quiet walk along the Underground Railroad
I see the slave awakening to the value of her soul

I see the young missionary at the angry spear
I see his family returning with no trace of fear

I see the long hard shadows of Calcutta nights
I see the sisters standing by the dying mans side

I see the young girl huddled on the brothel floor
I see the man with a passion come and kicking down that door

I see the man of sorrow and his long troubled road
I see the world on his shoulders and my easy load

And when the Saints go marching in
I want to be one of them
And when the Saints go marching in
I want to be one of them
I want to be one of them
I want to be one of them
I want to be one of them


Who am I, Lord? A housewife in America. I have not platform, no talent, no voice before men. But I have a voice before You, oh God. May I do unto my least of these, and may I be "one of them".