All over the world today, Christian radio reaches workaday ears. Whether folks are driving to their job, passing the day away in the shop, or enjoying a music-filled sunset on their friend’s porch, religious waves will find them. My daughter calls them “God songs.” Recently, in my part of the world (the American Midwest), a trend of lamentation songs has washed across the station, all suggesting that we have ignored a portion of our people. “Step out on a crowded street, see a girl and our eyes meet, does her best to smile at me to hide what’s underneath. All these people going somewhere, why have I never cared.” Or another: “A traveler is far from home. He sheds his coat and quietly sinks into the back row. The weight of their judgmental glances tells him that his chances are better out on his own. If we are the Body, why aren’t his arms reaching. Why aren’t his hands healing? Why aren’t his words teaching? And if we are the body, why aren’t his feet going? Why is his love not showing them there is a way?” And there are others. In all of these songs the main voice paints a picture of a wounded or broken person and laments about our inaction. And in the case of this last song, the main character wonders why. Why is there a whole population of people out there who the privileged refuse to see? The implicit answer: perhaps there is something suspect about our motivations. Maybe there’s something flawed with our inspiration. But what is it?