Priest Theologian Philosopher Writer Adventurer
Ever since I left the active priesthood, I have been defined by the first third of Psalm 102. LORD, hear my prayer; let my cry come to you. Do not hide your face from me in the day of my distress. Turn your ear to me; when I call, answer me quickly. For my days vanish like smoke; my bones burn away as in a furnace. My heart is withered, dried up like grass, too wasted to eat my food. From my loud groaning I become just skin and bones. I am like a desert owl, like an owl among the ruins. I lie awake and moan, like a lone sparrow on the roof. All day long my enemies taunt me; in their rage, they make my name a curse. I eat ashes like bread, mingle my drink with tears. Because of your furious wrath, you lifted me up just to cast me down. My days are like a lengthening shadow; I wither like the grass.
Now that I have published A Walk to the End of the Earth, I feel like and hope that I am defined by the second third of Psalm 102. But you, LORD, are enthroned forever; your renown is for all generations. You will again show mercy to Zion; now is the time for pity; the appointed time has come. Its stones are dear to your servants; its dust moves them to pity. The nations shall fear your name, LORD, all the kings of the earth, your glory, Once the LORD has rebuilt Zion and appeared in glory, Heeding the plea of the lowly, not scorning their prayer. Let this be written for the next generation, for a people not yet born, that they may praise the LORD: “The LORD looked down from the holy heights, viewed the earth from heaven, To attend to the groaning of the prisoners, to release those doomed to die.” Then the LORD’s name will be declared on Zion, his praise in Jerusalem, When peoples and kingdoms gather to serve the LORD.