waking.

Waking,

The light creeps

Into the dark.

The room is silent,

My mind sullen.

In an instant,

Thoughts invade

What was a broken dream.

I chase the retreating sleep,

But,

It has gone

And has left me

With another day 

We are "them"

It is easy to judge,
easy to make an enemy,
far easier to see another's faults,
to alienate and exclude.
It is far harder to examine ourselves
seeing our own failings
before we see another's.
It is far harder to love our enemies
as we would love our friends.
Our lives must be an ongoing struggle
against those deep and desperate desires
to stand on the wounded shoulders
of those we chose to see as
fallen, faulted, frail and failed
whilst preaching "right" from "wrong",
"us" from "them".
Our constant journey
is into the love that heals us,
the grace that enlivens us
and the hope that always gives us
every forgiven moment.
It is these precious gifts that we freely receive,
these precious gifts
that we are called
to freely give.

Poem by Warsan Shire

Home” by Warsan Shire

no one leaves home unless
home is the mouth of a shark
you only run for the border
when you see the whole city running as well

your neighbors running faster than you
breath bloody in their throats
the boy you went to school with
who kissed you dizzy behind the old tin factory
is holding a gun bigger than his body
you only leave home
when home won’t let you stay.

no one leaves home unless home chases you
fire under feet
hot blood in your belly
it’s not something you ever thought of doing
until the blade burnt threats into
your neck
and even then you carried the anthem under
your breath
only tearing up your passport in an airport toilets
sobbing as each mouthful of paper
made it clear that you wouldn’t be going back.

you have to understand,
that no one puts their children in a boat
unless the water is safer than the land
no one burns their palms
under trains
beneath carriages
no one spends days and nights in the stomach of a truck
feeding on newspaper unless the miles travelled
means something more than journey.
no one crawls under fences
no one wants to be beaten
pitied

no one chooses refugee camps
or strip searches where your
body is left aching
or prison,
because prison is safer
than a city of fire
and one prison guard
in the night
is better than a truckload
of men who look like your father
no one could take it
no one could stomach it
no one skin would be tough enough

the
go home blacks
refugees
dirty immigrants
asylum seekers
sucking our country dry
niggers with their hands out
they smell strange
savage
messed up their country and now they want
to mess ours up
how do the words
the dirty looks
roll off your backs
maybe because the blow is softer
than a limb torn off

or the words are more tender
than fourteen men between
your legs
or the insults are easier
to swallow
than rubble
than bone
than your child body
in pieces.
i want to go home,
but home is the mouth of a shark
home is the barrel of the gun
and no one would leave home
unless home chased you to the shore
unless home told you
to quicken your legs
leave your clothes behind
crawl through the desert
wade through the oceans
drown
save
be hunger
beg
forget pride
your survival is more important

no one leaves home until home is a sweaty voice in your ear
saying-
leave,
run away from me now
i dont know what i’ve become
but i know that anywhere
is safer than here

UNHCR, WARSAN SHIRE

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Life

Love without reason,
love without restraint.
find an empty heart
and fill it with yourself. 
Look beyond angry eyes,
hear behind angry words,
discover the aching heart
and the wounded soul,
be a healer,
love.

Silence is not golden

If you have a voice,
Stop singing
And shout for compassion. 
Love is the antidote for fear.
Why and what do we fear?
Let love answer your questions,
Compelling you
To be..
In the boat,
Behind the veil,
Under the intervention,
Misunderstood
And marginalised.
Let your voice cry out..
Until grace fills the world
And love overcomes.
Till then,
We have a long
And lonely journey.
Silence makes our world
Dulled,
Blindness
Steals reality
From being seen .
All answers are silent
Until spoken.

There was a time

there was once a time
when there were no words.
no memory,
not even a story to tell. 
There was a time 
that came before
all that we have ever believed to be true,
all that we have treasured,
debated, studied, fought for and retained.
For there was a time where only truth remained.
there was no need for this truth to be taught,
there was no need for consent or adherance,
no need for disciples or scribes or chapters or verses,
this truth was supported by itself.
If we threw away everything and emptied our knowledge of it all
it would still remain as true.
Surely the great pilgrimage
is to accept that in all that we know,
we know very little.
sometimes I feel like the ant
climbing the first tile of the opera house
trying to reach the one above,
blissfully unaware of the sails that soar
Into the heavens
above my pursuit.

Sometimes

Sometimes I fear we are silent to the truth
and rather loud to the less significant. 
Sometimes I fear that love is smothered 
And compassion is denied. 
Could it be
That the words we study
Remain lifeless
Arousing out anger
Whilst silent to its inspiration.

Lessons

I have learnt very little in success
Whilst realising that popularity rarely makes
Enduring friendships...
And of course,
As tempting as it is,
Money only makes sadness
A little more comfortable.
However,
I am learning,
The guidebook to life
Is the enduring challenges
Of the consequences of our
Many great failures.
My teachers are my faults,
Somehow,
We must all rise from being the victims,
To become the healers of those whom we have hurt,
Applying the bandages of our own
Vulnerable honesty,
Learning not only to forgive
But to seek forgiveness.

Mercy, have mercy

Please my friends, mercy must forever triumph over judgment otherwise we all fail and fall. 
Whatever our opinions and bias, we exist simply because of an act of overwhelming grace. 
It's time to cry,
To weep, to plead,
And shout,
Have mercy.
It's still time to start a grace revolution.
It's still time for hope,
It's still time to petition,
Whatever the crime,
Equalling it degrades us all.
Without grace
We are without hope and without life.

Daughters and sons

We are mothers
Fathers
Daughters
Sons
We were all once
The expected babe
Impatient
To be born
To live to love
And to be loved
We are always
That child in arms
Longing to be held
And to hold.
Live childlike
The innocence
Of not fully knowing
Amazed by the adventures
That arrive
Unexpected.
We never need to grow up
The child in us
Can remain
Regardless of the years
We will always be
Daughters
And sons.

Choose love

Life is the continual challenge 
To turn all things
Into an expression 
Of love
And loving. 
In the face of fear
Love
In the face of hatred
Love
In the face of bigotry
Love
When rejected
Maligned
Misrepresented
And abused
Love.
Chose to love
The unloveable,
Even your villains
And enemies
For this is
The coming
Of the Kingdom.

Imagine

Imagine,
A kingdom of love
That would dissolve 
The fears,
Anxieties
And silence them
With simple acts
Of compassion.
Imagine,
A community
Of genuine care
A people
Unconditionally
Committed to acceptance
And affirmation.
There stands One,
Who lived,
loved
And stretched out his arms
To world
Locked in the loveless pursuits
That steal joy from souls.
See!
He stands in the middle
Of those who accuse him
Loving his enemies
Calling us
To follow.

Love and loving

I continually find myself being inspired by images and narratives of love and compassion. The world is full of these encounters, whether in sacred texts, legends, or the glorious day to day encounters with transcendent gifts of grace. In and through these we are challenged to rise above our humanity, choosing to love beyond our biases and prejudices. More than ever, love calls us to respond to life in all it's hatred and fears by becoming loving. I'm too flawed to be anything else but a lover of my neighbour, no matter what their belief or lifestyle. The love that we find in the accounts of the life of Jesus shows us how God sought to reconcile himself to mankind, I simply do my insufficient best to be a follower. God could have theologically humiliated everyone he came across, he could have called down thousands of angels to defend himself, in the end, what Jesus did in surrendering to the religious, proud and pious acts of his accusers was to simply stretch out his limbs and refuse to do anything else but love. This is the Life and the Love that calls us, by His Spirit, to endeavour, by grace, to emulate. I pray that your spirit and soul be refreshed by all that He is, to all that you are...in the end, for me, it's simply breathtakingly beautiful.

God is love

God is love.

to be in Him,

and Him in us

is to be immersed

and saturated

into love...

pure, eternal,

immeasurable

unconditional

and constant.

God is love,

every encounter with Him

is the choice 

to be loved,

to love

and to remain.

loving.

God is love.

We are baptised into love,

we are risen into love.

Beyond all things,

the sublime goal

and eternal destination

is love.

At the end of all that was,

is and 

is to be,

only one thing will remain..

love,

for

God is love

and we are

to be

Love's disciples.

Loving

The singular persuit of all spiritual endeavours
is purely
and simply
to embrace love
beyond the boundaries that exempt us
from becoming
loving.

Quiet

Gentle day,
loved and loving.
Quiet,
still,
words,
my piano
and soft thoughts
flowing inward
and outward.

Without love

Without love
All we have 
Is a belief structure. 
Without love
All we have 
Are excuses
And reasons. 
Without love
We are lost to each other
And lost to ourselves. 
In love
We are intimate
With the sublime essence
That transcends all things.
In spite of ourselves
We have just one choice,
We are called to be
Loving
And to be
Lovers.

Listen

Words, no matter how perfect,
Are insufficient. 
My spirit speaks louder 
And clearer
Than my lips. 
To know me
Is to hear the voice of my heart,
The songs of my soul.
What I speak,
And what you hear,
What I write,
And what your read
May fail to tell my story.
Let us stop listening,
And sit together in the quiet,
Hearing each other
Until we begin to recognise
And seek to know.

Blow wind, blow

The wind is roaring through the trees,
Branches straining
Their leaves taking flight.
I've retreated to indoors. 
Perhaps, we should invite these squalls
To blow through the scattered thoughts
That lie, unchallenged,
Rising, unbidden,
To taunt the day
With the struggles of yesterday.
Blow wind,
Blow.
Let the mists and fogs
Of our minds
Be cleared
By a bracing, biting gale.

Life

Sitting quietly,

Thoughts and memories.....

The past

Simply bringing me

To this place.

I am the out working of relationships,

Moulded by acquaintances

Family, friends

And lovers.

We have looked

Deeply, 

into each other's eyes,

Plumbing the depths of our frail hearts.

For some,

We are still walking together 

And yet others,

So sadly

drifting apart.

Embracing,

Letting go,

Running to,

Walking away,

Laughter,

Tears,

Songs,

Silence

We are shaped by all that has

Gone before,

Those precious moments

And the regrettable. 

Yet,

Tomorrow will continue

To be defined

By the love chosen,

The honesty given

And the constant choices

To remain transparent.

Arriving

Footsteps,
So often trod
Through the mists of day
Or the dark of night.
Yet,
So often,
I find myself amazed
And thankful,
That my destination
Has found me.

The confusion of being

The confusion of being,
Living...
Sometimes the mirror
Is more honest
Than memory.
Let integrity be more
Than a concept,
And love
Deeper 
Than a word.
Frail footsteps
Into the future,
We all rest
Safe,
In the arms
That the words of our closest
And dearest
Wrap around us.

Memories

Sitting
With a lifetime of memories. 
Some... They warm me,
Some chill me to the core
Some bring a smile
And many bring tears. 
Yet,
As I remember
I am comforted,
All these moments,
They are my tutors,
I seek to look deeply
Without justifications
Excuses or blame
And grow.

Hold and be held.

Stay close to the ones you love,
Endure the winters,
Celebrate the summers,
Sing on the mountain peaks,
Hold each other in the deserts,
Love passionately,
Love beyond feelings,
Emotions
And desire.
Don't turn away,
Look deep into
Each other's heart,
Let anger be diluted
By listening,
Compassionately,
Patiently,
Until your words
Can once again
be filled with love
And commitment.
Let love blossom,
A perpetual spring,
An endless budding
And blooming.

Ever restless love

Let your heart break
Until it cries out
At the thought
Of another's pain.
May compassion form words,
An unstoppable torrent,
Falling from your lips 
As a deluge,
into the dry places
Where justifications
Turn back the rivers of mercy.
Let us run,
Beyond the exhaustion of helplessness,
With hope as a beacon
Lighting the crooked paths
That have caused
Far too many feet
To stumble.
And,
Above all,
Shout to those ahead and behind,
Perseverance!
Endurance!
Love must overcome
The silence of apathy.

Choose love

Sometimes,
Love is powerless
Yet still endures
Beyond being loved.
Love is greater than emotions,
Deeper than desire,
Love is the unconditional choice
To be loving
Even when your world
Turns away.
In the face of rejection,
Choose love.
In the face of misunderstanding,
Choose love.
In the face of anger,
Bitterness,
The calamnities of life
Choose love.
Even in the face of hate,
Choose love.
And when your love
Fades and fails,
Forgive, grace
And heal
And choose love.

Who are we in Christ?

The danger that 21st century Christianity faces is that we invite Jesus into our culture rather than being immersed in His. 

We take so much for granted without being moved by the immense challenges that Jesus faced to be believed in and followed. Why would God choose an obscure country village for his son to live in for all but three of his thirty three years. According to Israeli scholars, there were only about twelve families in Nazareth when Mary had her history defining encounter with Michael, the Archangel. Twelve families in the back blocks of Galilee. Twelve families, far removed from the pride, power and prestige of Jerusalem. A little hamlet who knew both Mary and Joseph, a small community that were suddenly plunged into a crisis. As Mary's story spread through the village the choice that they faced was the ghastly decision to either stone Mary and Joseph, or, somehow, believe the unbelievable. Mary made matters much worse by running away to her cousin Elizabeth. Joseph must have been protesting his innocence,  after all his life depended on it. An angel had to silence his protestations.

Yet, this was Jesus' introduction to mankind. Surrounded by gossip, innuendo, doubt and ridicule, God shows us, through Jesus, just who he represents. Jesus owns the plight of the unfairly accused, the illegitimate pleading for equality, the rejected and the marginalised.

To be followers of Jesus, to be disciples, the be worshippers, we must start with the reality of all that Jesus was, all that he identified with, all that he welcomed. 

It may not sit comfortably with the morality of our comfortable 21st century worship, but this is his story and this is our starting point. This is who we are in Christ. 

Imagine!

Please,

Why is he so obscured 

By the obsessive pursuit

Of knowledge.

Why must the words

Become purer

Than the one

That they describe. 

Endurance

So,
The night hastens.
Soon the light beckons,
But,
Until then,
We endure.
Hope is on the other side
Of sunset. 
The night,
It's dark
And mysteries
Endure
Until dawn
Removes the darkness
Without regret.

Look again

Look deeper ,

Search,

Seek,

Catch a glimpse,

Between the verses,

Behind the words,

So insufficient,

There is a man.

Can you see him?

Is it possible

To peer through the pages,

Closing the book

And capturing the narrative. 

Yes!

There he is!

Living,

Breathing,

A man,

Painting his self portrait,

Writing his story,

History,

In the living

And outworking

Of a life,

Far too fractured

To be believed,

Yet far too divine

To be ignored.