Never again will I sing the songs of slavery. I’m neither hungry, thirsty, void of the presence of God, standing under a closed heaven, or in need of a heart transplant. My most pressing need is not for God to “let it rain”, grant me a “holy visitation”, or send “fire”. In Christ, I am complete, and in need of a greater revelation of just how deep this completion goes. I do not need to have desire or hunger stirred up within in me, but contentment and peace.
I will not subject myself to depression in the name of worship. Ever.
I will admire and appreciate the heart of those who sing such tunes from a place of sincerity, but will guard my vocabulary, making sure that my language always reflects my lineage. Desperation, after all, is the language of the orphanage, while satisfaction is the language of a son.