Disturb us, Lord
Encountering a call to do more.
I live in the UK. Therefore, as all good citizens do, I listen to the BBC on the radio. Yes, it’s a bit time-bound and old-school; it’s also quite possibly one of the best and greatest bastions of Western culture to be found anywhere.
Classical music, occasional dips into folk and jazz, and intermittent opera, poetry, etc.
More to the point, BBC Classics (my preferred poison) broadcasts various Anglican services throughout the week. I’m a Presbyterian, and a Scottish one, at that, but I have a soft spot in my heart for a highbrow Anglican service of the old order.
And this service included a poem I’d never heard before, and one that I found to be engrossingly haunting.
Disturb Us, Lord
Disturb us, Lord, when
We are too well pleased with ourselves,
When our dreams have come true
Because we have dreamed too little,
When we arrived safely
Because we sailed too close to the shore.
Disturb us, Lord, when
With the abundance of things we possess
We have lost our thirst
For the waters of life;
Having fallen in love with life,
We have ceased to dream of eternity
And in our efforts to build a new earth,
We have allowed our vision
Of the new Heaven to dim.
Disturb us, Lord, to dare more boldly,
To venture on wider seas
Where storms will show your mastery;
Where losing sight of land,
We shall find the stars.
We ask You to push back
The horizons of our hopes;
And to push into the future
In strength, courage, hope, and love.
Sir Francis Drake, 1577
When are dreams have come true // because we have dreamed too little. Ah, now there’s a thought.
I have always felt a need to do more. I’ve become more ambitious as I get older. I suspect that’s due in part to an awareness that time is marching on, and in part a growing sense that I could have more, could do more - it just requires actually putting my mind to it.
The Bible speaks much of contentment, and I don’t find these two ideas to be conflicting. I’m called to be content with what I have - but I have not, because I ask not. So ask, and seek, and find.
And often, when I’m not asking, or seeking, or finding, that is precisely when I need the Lord to disturb me.
It’s worth noting that “disturb” doesn’t necessarily have the idea of “disquieting” that we often apply to it. Particularly as it was used back in Drake’s day, it refers generally to the act of interruption. “He was disturbed during his dinner” - he was interrupted, prevented from finishing.
He was set on a new course.
Disturb us, Lord - adjust our heading. Set us sail for somewhere new, for something greater.
Be Drake-ish
Sir Francis Drake, born circa 1540-1543, led an interesting life.
And by “interesting,” I mean he was variously:
a slave trader
a pirate
a privateer
an adventurer
an explorer/discoverer
and, apparently, a poet
Drake didn’t start his career, as such, till 1568, when he was in his late 20s. I won’t recount the Brittanica article to you - the short version is that it wasn’t until after a few (violent) failures that he achieved:
the capture of a Spanish silver caravan
the first sight of the Pacific ocean (by an Englishman)
recognition from Queen Elizabeth
growing reputation of terror/heroism (depending on if your were Spanish or English)
the second known circumnavigation of the globe, after Magellan, and
the first circumnavigation by an Englishman
In short, he was perhaps THE big salty dog of the Elizabethan Age.
What’s Drake got to do with it?
Why write a post for modern men on an ancient seaman?
First, a question.
Are there no boundaries left?
Do we have no adventures remaining?
You’re a man - are there no ships to sail, no unknown lands to venture in?
Is there nothing left to disturb?
I have a dear friend who with total honesty refers to the ideals of a warrior-poet. A man at perfect balance, mastering the martial and the literary with equal ease. A man who doesn’t dip in and out of both spheres, but inhabits both.
Sir Francis Drake, pirate and poet.
David, king and psalmist.
The men of Rohan, who “sang as they slew.”
In our quest to be warrior-poets, maybe we should embrace a bit more disturbance. Maybe we should seek out the areas of complete comfort and consider, just for a moment, how we should change them.
Maybe we should pray -
Disturb us, Lord, to dare more boldly,
To venture on wider seas
Where storms will show your mastery;
Where losing sight of land,
We shall find the stars.
Go forth, and do thou likewise.
Action Points
Simple one for this week.
Read a bit more poetry.
I’ll work in a fair amount here on the newsletter, but poetry is great. The best of it captures and spurs the imagination, opens up new vistas, and gets the brain thinking on new paths.
A good poem - like Disturb Us, Lord - can itself disturb us.
A self-fulfilling prayer.
Links
On Sir Francis Drake:
Encyclopedia Brittanica has the best summary of his life
Check out Royal Museum Greenwich’s slick online presentation
More about an escaped slave who joined up with Drake on his voyages
If you like history, and enjoy traditional, well-researched quick bites on a huge variety of topics, check out The Rest Is History. Excellent podcast, and a deep-enough back catalogue that you’re sure to find some topics that interest you. Dominic Sandbrook and Tom Holland are both trained historians, and the show is enthusiastic without being over-the-top.