I’ll stay where you put me;
I will dear Lord
Though I want so badly to go.
I’m eager to march with the rank and file,
For I want to lead them, you know.
I long to keep step to the music loud,
To cheer when the banner’s unfurled,
To stand in the midst of the fight straight and proud,
But I’ll stay where you put me, dear Lord.
In Homer’s version of the Odyssey, battle weary Odysseus sets sail for Ithaca after long years fighting in the Trojan War. He forsakes the voluptuous sea nymph, Calypso to go home to his wife Penelope and her needlepoint.
In a modern sequel to The Odyssey, Nikos Kazantzakis has Odysseus returning home and staying long enough to slay Penelope’s suitors, but he cannot cure his restlessness, and soon sets sail again for parts unknown.
Kazantzakis echoes our nagging yen to move on.
Certainly there may be good reasons to move to another place, but simple restlessness—“looking for a greater challenge”—is not one of them. Long ago I recognized my discontent for what it is: a longing for that elusive “something more”—that hunger for God himself that will not be satisfied until I reach my final home.
I met an old fellow some years back—Ralph was his name—who managed a backcountry ranch. I asked him if he ever thought of moving to a less remote place. “Why would I do that,” he drawled, “when I’m already where I want to be.”
There’s a good deal of wisdom in those words, especially when we know that our present place is the place God has put us and thus is the place we want to be. We can "stay put” until he tells us it’s time to move on.
"Oh restless heart, that beats against your prison bars of circumstances, yearning for a wider sphere of usefulness, leave God to order all your days. Patience and trust, in the dullness of the routine of life, will be the best preparation for a courageous bearing of the tug and strain of the larger opportunity which God may some time send you" —L.B. Cowman
David Roper
