Verses from the Psalms

The aim was to read four Psalms a day. It should have taken 38 days, maybe 40 if the very long Ps119 is given three days ; it has taken 62 days. Indolence and forgetfulness played a part.

‘How long shall I take counsel in my soul Ps 13 v 2
‘I will bless the Lord, who has given me counsel, my heart also instructs me in the night seasons’ Ps 16v7

Straight away we plunge into the dynamic between God and man. In the New Covenant, God has taken out our heart of stone and replaced it with a heart of flesh and put a new spirit in us AND His Holy Spirit. So when we go ‘inside’ to take counsel with our own soul, we find the God, the Holy Spirit, witnessing with our spirit. Really the distance between us is not even paper thin.

‘I shall be satisfied when I awake in Your likeness’ Ps 17v15

If you’re thinking death and resurrection, then this verse lines up nicely enough. But if you’re thinking literally, it’s more of a puzzle. ‘Behold,’ says St Paul, speaking about the resurrection, ‘I tell you a mystery. We shall not all sleep but we shall be changed; in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet…the dead will be raised incorruptible.’ But there’s a lead-up to this crescendo: ‘And we all, who with unveiled faces contemplate the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his image with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit’. Take a look in the mirror in the morning. Takes some faith…O yeah, faith.

‘Incline Your ear to me, hear my speech’ Ps 17 v6 (v Is 55v3)

Here we go again, the dynamic. ‘Listen to me’ we say but somewhere along the line we hear an echo ‘Listen to Me’. It really is a two-way street this true Christianity.

‘You are my hiding place, You shall preserve me from trouble You shall surround me with songs of deliverance’ Ps 32 v 7

Evangelicals will say (correctly in my opinion) that the whole Bible is the word of God. But if heaven is like a warehouse of the bible books and verses, the personal delivery system from heaven is more impressive. The Spirit may pick up a verse and deliver it to your heart faster than Amazon or Deliveroo. The Bible is like a restaurant where all the food is on the menu but along comes the Holy Spirit in disguise, as the waiter with some recommendations. ‘That one tonight, Sir’ or ‘With the lamb, this wine, Madam’. Or it might be, from this Psalm: ‘Hide in me today, John, let Me sing you some songs of deliverance.’

‘The earth is full of the goodness of the Lord’ Ps 32 v5

Faith, fact, and feeling. I remember being unduly irritated by the silly diagram of Faith as a train engine, pulling two carriages, fact and feeling, in that order. It still irritates me. But darn it, here’s one of those verses where your feelings may well let you down, and facts (I write this in the wake of the Syrian and Turkish earthquake) will divert you. The best thing is to keep munching on this verse, then we might be of some use in every circumstance, like Jesus, who had every reason to doubt the accuracy of this verse, harassed as he was all the way from his home church, where they were about to murder him, to Jerusalem, where the plotters finally got their act together and crucified Him. But even on the cross He was talking of Paradise. Faith trumps facts and feelings.

‘O Lord make haste to save me’ Ps 38v22,40v13 memories of All Saints

Only a quick note: the church I was taken to as a child (which successfully inoculated me against Christianity, or so I thought) had a really good choir. You know, frilly collars, unemotional faces, and angelic sound. I can still hear the bass soloist pouring out the words of the liturgical responses ‘O Lord make haste to save us’ with his rich voice, and the accompanying pipe-organ making the whole building reverberate with its deep thundernotes.

The place of jackals

‘You have severely broken us in the place of the jackals’ Ps44v19

Tempting to write more than I should. If you’ve been there with the jackals and been broken, you know two things. You may be functioning externally quite well, but inside you’re like a dying star collapsing into a black hole. You have no strength to climb back out. But the Lord comes, recovery comes. The Jews suffered annihilation at the hand of Hitler’s Nazis but, unbelievably, just three years later, in May 1948, the newly formed Israel celebrated its restoration to the world map ending 2000 years of exile. It is a profound mystery. If you’re being broken, take some strength from this.

‘All your garments are scented with myrrh and cassia’ Ps 44 v 8

On more than one occasion, women felt impelled to soak Jesus’ head or feet or body with scents, spices, or perfumes. It’s an interesting phenomenon. Even the three Magi from the east brought gold, frankincense and myrrh. The word Messiah literally means ‘anointed one’ and the earthly oils used to anoint kings were pictures of the true anointing oil of heaven the Holy Spirit. Now we are ‘entwined with Christ’, ‘in the Messiah’ the ‘Anointed one’, guess what, we share in His anointing. We’re used to the doublet ‘he who has ears to hear’ or ‘eyes to see’, maybe we should add ‘noses to smell’. No, we should.

‘Make me hear joy and gladness; that the bones You have broken may rejoice’ Ps51v8

We’re back to recovery from brokenness. The Bible is full of this. ‘The Spirit of the Lord is upon me to …heal the broken hearted’. It’s a common human cycle. Falling over, getting back up. On an individual level but it can be scaled up to whole nations. God does it. He loves us.

‘You number my wanderings; put my tears in a bottle’ Ps56 v 8

Such a poetic phrase. It has inspired me to attempt to write a children’s book.

‘Through our God we shall do valiantly; It is He who treads down our enemies’ Ps 60 v12

That partnership repeating. We’re not expected to overcome difficulties or battle away on our own. He treads down our enemies. First base is handing over the conflict to God. Second base is letting God direct us. First base is all-important. Why is it that it still takes me a while to remember to run to first base?

Early will I seek You

‘O God, You are my God; early will I seek You’ Ps63 v 1

Best time of the day. Don’t be surprised if God plays hide & seek. Some days it’s as if you’re surrounded by divine love and presence, other days you’re walking through a fog with no indication of where to go or anything to see. Sensory deprivation. In the hills, in the fog, you get your compass out and walk according to a bearing. Spiritually? There’s a great passage in 1 Samuel when David is having an acutely bad day, it simply says ‘he strengthened himself in God’. No details. Do you know how to strengthen yourself in God? I preach the gospel to myself.

‘Let the peoples praise You O God
Let all the peoples praise You
Then the Earth shall yield her increase
God, our own God, shall bless us
And all the ends of the earth shall fear Him’ Ps67 v 5-7

No point in being grumpy or wallowing in self-pity. Better to praise God. It might just unlock whatever is overwhelming you, fear, helplessness, anger, frustration, defeat, rejection…and so on. I like Watchman Nee’s statement: ‘The Christian life is like wiping your tears whilst holding onto the plough’. The tears are real, but so is the plough.

‘O God, who is like You?
Who has shown me great and severe troubles
Shall revive me again
And bring me up again
From the depths of the earth’ Ps 71 v 19,20

Again. And again.

‘Thus my heart was grieved
And I was vexed in my mind
I was so foolish and ignorant
I was like a beast before You
Nevertheless, I am continually with You
You hold me by my right hand
You will guide me with your counsel’ Ps 73 v 21-24

Coming to terms with our own wilfulness is painful. It leads us off course, grieves our hearts and vexes our minds. Sins of commission or omission. But this verse holds out hope that once we have admitted our state of mind, God will guide us once more. He’s always the father of the Prodigal, waiting for us to come to our senses and return.

You number my wanderings; put my tears in a bottle

‘Men ate angels’ food
He sent them food to the full’ Ps 78 v 25

Quoting Deuteronomy Jesus said ‘Man shall not live by bread alone but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God’. Bread sustains our physical/biological life but it’s the word of God that sustains our spiritual life…which is life in fact! The phrase in this verse that struck me was ‘to the full’. Sometimes all we need is a quick snack. But there are times for banquets, when God opens up new vistas, or fresh revelations.

‘For the Lord God is a sun and a shieldThe Lord will give grace and glory’ Ps 84 v 11

Psalm 84. One of my favourite Psalms. I can’t remember why this verse stood out. Read the whole Psalm, it’s good ‘un. Maybe ‘grace AND glory’. Some of us content ourselves on grace OR glory. Nope. It’s both.

‘Preserve my life, for I am holy
Save your servant who trusts in You’ Ps 86 v 2

O dear. I am holy. That’s like a left hook to the polite, reserved, and modest British jaw. We spend far too much time in mock humility. The fact is that in Christ we have been made holy, all of us are ‘saints’ not just the special few, like the Catholics suggest when canonising their best. We align holiness and sainthood (both the same word in Greek) too much with ‘goodness’. That’s the fruit not the root. The idea of holiness is rooted in the concept of being set aside for a particular purpose. God has placed us in Christ. By that fact alone we are holy, set aside. St Paul says we are ‘His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works which God prepared beforehand that we should walk in them’. True humility is receiving, welcoming, and believing the word of God, then there’s a chance we might actually display the fruit of holiness.

‘Those that are planted in the house of the Lord
Shall flourish in the courts of our Gid
They shall bear fruit in old age
They shall be full of oil and green’ Ps 92 v 13,14

I read this verse on or about my 65th birthday. Am I still middle-aged? That feels like disappearing youth! But the prospect of being full of oil and green, like an old tree, still pushing out bright green leaves and good quality fruit – I’ll take that.

Psalm 100 the whole Psalm

Enough said.

‘The trees of the Lord are full of sap’ Ps 104 v16

As Psalm 92 above.

‘He satisfied them with the bread of heaven

He opened the rock and water gushed out’ Ps 105 v40,41

Anyone interested in rugby during the 1970s will have been in awe of the Welsh rugby side. And Cardiff Arms Park ringing out with Bread of Heaven (Cwm Rhondda) sung in parts, at top volume, all the verses memorised putting Swing Low and Delilah to shame. It was also our school hymn when schools had school hymns. Before I overindulge in nostalgia I should remember the drudgery of school assemblies and how I eventually refused to sing, defiantly staring at our Buddhist headmaster beating out Christian bible readings and hymns that he didn’t believe in. I wasn’t a Christian, but the hypocrisy was too much. Later, in the 6th Form, I joined the rugby team and, as most of us were also in the school choir, we English rugby boys learnt the parts to Cwm Rhonda. When I capitulated to Christ in the January of my Upper 6th year (Year 13 to more recent ears) the school hymn took on a new significance. Tears fall from my eyes when I think of the spiritual decline in Wales since the Welsh revival in 1904. A revival, that amongst other long-lasting effects, taught the hardened rugby players, miners, and hill farmers of Wales the words of Bread of Heaven. When God opens the hard rock of our hearts fresh water gushes out. The miracle of encountering Christ and how he transforms us from the inside out is poured out in hymns and songs. I can still hear Cardiff Arms Park singing ‘Bread of heaven, bread of heaven, feed me ‘til I want no more, feed me ‘til I want no more’.

‘Tremble O Earth at the presence of the God of Jacob
Who turned the rock into a pool of water
The flint into a fountain of waters’ Ps 114 v 7,8

It’s the same transformation. ‘So and so is such a kind person’ we might hear someone say. But the kindest person may be like ‘flint’ to God. Impervious, tough, self-reliant, and rebellious, refusing to acknowledge that even their kindness has been created by God. When I heard the gospel for the first time (not in the church I had been brought up in) I sat at the back of the church trembling, physically trembling, as it dawned on me that the resurrection and much else besides, might, after all, be true. That left me with an awesome decision, but also a sense of excitement at the implications of taking that step of believing…which I did, ironically, whilst repeating the Creed in the church that had inoculated me against Christianity. I had long since abandoned repeating the Creed as I didn’t believe it, but as I opened my mouth that morning, to say ‘I believe in God…’ I believed.

‘The Lord is on my side
I will not fear
What can man do to me’ Ps 118 v 6

A good verse to repeat over and over. Eat it. Chew on it. Come back to it. Man put Jesus on the cross but man could not raise Him from the grave. Man can do a lot to make us suffer but God is also at work. The Bible is a curious combination of acknowledging fear and yet saying ‘do not fear’. Fear is real but it needn’t dominate. I’ve known fear crystallising into panic attacks, uncontrollable anxiety and fear, but deeper down, deeper than ‘panic headquarters’ is the Lord. It’s true. He has the last word.

‘Though I walk in the midst of trouble
You will revive me’ Ps 138 v 7

That’s what life is like sometimes. It sometimes feels as if we’re surrounded by troubles we cannot ignore or escape from. That’s the hope, not that the troubles will subside, although that is included, but the greater hope, that the Lord will revive us. It’s not just the absence of trouble we need, but a revival of life. The kiss of life, an inner renewal. New batteries for the remote!

‘You have covered my head in the day of battle’ Ps 140 v 7

This spoke to me powerfully. Here, we’re on the offensive. We’re taking the battle to the opposition, to external enemies, the circumstance, or the obdurate internal self. I’m not quite sure what ‘covered my head’ means but when I read it, all I can say is that it re-configured my attitude from the passive ‘He will restore me after trouble’ to a more active participatory stance in whatever battle is on.

‘Teach me to do Your will
For You are my God
Your Spirit is good
Lead me in the land of uprightness’ Ps 143 v10

That could be the prayer of one’s whole life. Especially, perhaps, for a teacher! How much have Iearnt? I loved the poetic ‘lead me in the land of uprightness’ that invisible kingdom, the land of uprightness, that pervades every evil war-torn, disease-racked, poverty-induced, slave-ridden sub-section of our world that attempts to set up an alternative power structure to heaven, to the kingdom of God, and may appear to succeed for a while. But it is those who are, despite all that, led in the land of uprightness that win the day. We press on.

‘The Lord lifts up the humble;
He casts the wicked to the ground
The Lord takes pleasure on those who fear Him
In those who hope in His mercy’ Ps 147 v 6,11

If you’re like me you’ve discovered the truth of both sides of that same coin.

‘Let the saints be joyful in glory’ Ps 149 v 5

Fittingly, we end with (i) saints (ii) being joyful (iii) and submerged in and caught up in glory. No more need be said.

One Raised Eyebrow

‘Brian and I have made a List’
‘You have? And Brian the rabbit?’
‘Yes’
And mother, one eyebrow raised,
Said:
‘Really? It’s not your birthday
Or Brian’s?’
‘You know Brian’s birthday?’
‘Of course’

At that revelation, George was further
Puzzled at the cunning of adults
And almost forgot the List
Screwed up in his right hand, and
The pencil balanced behind his ear,
But it fell to the floor.
Then he remembered
‘Well…you make lists’
‘Yes’
‘And so does Daddy’

‘He does?’
Up went the eyebrow once more.
Ignoring that question,
Which somehow
Didn’t feel like a question,
He handed over the List.
Glasses on for close inspection,
His mother read it out loud.
Some of the letters were
The wrong way round…

‘A list of body noises?’
She said, removing her glasses.
‘Anthony can roll his Rs, but he can’t do the woodpigeon
Murray makes fart noises with his armpit - like this…’
But it didn’t work.
But when his mother did it, it did!
George’s mouth failed to close
For at least a week
But open as it was, he practiced
Popping with his forefinger

The week passed with
Failure upon failure upon failure
But at tea on Thursday
His mother had invited Murray
And Anthony.
It was an unusual evening
And not all noises had been
Mastered
But when his father,
The one with the secret lists,

Arrived sounding like
A horse, his shaking cheeks
Flapping in an invisible wind,
Pudding was postponed.
Priorities are priorities,
After all
And a List has to be
Recognised for what it is
A heart written in words
With unstoppable fire

The Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head

What did Jesus mean?

Whatever He meant, if we think we can escape Scot free from having nowhere to lay our heads…we’d better think again. I hope I can explain.

Probably since reading the New Testament seriously in my mid-teens (often when I should have been attending to my homework I should add!), I’ve thought of this statement by Jesus as describing his lifestyle whilst ‘on the road’, preaching.

Jesus may have had a house in Capernaum ‘he came and dwelt in Capernaum’ Matthew 4 v 13 having been rejected in his hometown, Nazareth.

He grew up in Nazareth attending the local synagogue on the Sabbath from childhood for religious services, weddings, funerals, bar-Mitzvahs, and so on. But once He stood up and said ‘The Spirit is upon Me…’ (Luke 4) he was bustled out of the synagogue, the congregation wild with anger, took his to the top of the hill above the town ready to hurl Him to his death on the rocks below…probably with His horrified mother, brothers, and sisters watching on…astonished! Extraordinary behaviour from their neighbours and friends.

So he moved to Capernaum, ‘And leaving Nazareth, He came and dwelt in Capernaum’ Mt 4 v 13. How long He was welcome in Capernaum is uncertain. All went well until, in the synagogue, he healed a man with a withered arm on the Sabbath. The scribes and the Pharisees that were present were ‘filled with rage’ and began to plot against him.

In one town, Nazareth, all was well until He spoke. In the next, Capernaum, all was well until He healed on the Sabbath.

And leaving Nazareth, He came and dwelt in Capernaum

Switching from Jesus to Abraham for a few paragraphs:

If we are true believers, we are ‘of the faith of Abraham’.

Maybe in his childhood, the scripture doesn’t make this explicit, but at some point, God spoke to Abram (later Abraham) ‘Get out of your country, from your family, and from your father’s house to a land that I will show you’ Gen 12 v1.

His father seemed to have the same vision, to leave Ur and travel to Canaan, but he settled in Haran a few hundred miles short of Canaan.

We are not to settle just short. Just as Abram had to leave his father’s house. His family. From whom he had received everything. It is the same for us. Sometimes we have to, whether we are rejected, like Jesus at Nazareth and Capernaum, or whether we set out alone, like Abram at Haran.

In Israel, there were three feasts that the men, if possible, had to attend in Jerusalem each year: Passover, Pentecost, and Tabernacles.

In English evangelical or ‘charismatic churches’ whether found in ‘streams’ or historic denominations, like the CofE or Baptists, or independent churches, see the first two feasts, Passover and Pentecost as part of the New Testament, but not Tabernacles. Not yet, that is.

In simple terms, evangelical and charismatic churches would see Passover fulfilled in Christ; the original Passover, enabling the Jews to escape from Egypt under Moses in the exodus, acting as a ‘model’ of the true ‘Passover Lamb’ – Jesus. As John the Baptist cried out, ‘Look! It’s the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world’ pointing at Jesus. Through the true Lamb of God being sacrificed and His blood being shed, we too make our exodus from the slavery of sin into redemption and freedom through Christ.

The Day of Pentecost has two New Testament passages that explain how the New Testament (or New Covenant – the terms are synonymous) only functions when the gift and baptism in the Holy Spirit is received. In John 7 Jesus cried out ‘If anyone is thirsty, come to Me and drink…out of His heart shall flow rivers of living water’ This He said concerning the Spirit whom those believing in Him would receive’ and then in Acts 2 ‘When the Day of Pentecost had fully come…they were all filled with the Holy Spirit and speak with other languages as the Spirit enabled them’. True Christianity is infused and propelled by the Holy Spirit. Many evangelical and denominational churches rejected and still reject this forcing those who receive the Spirit, as Jesus promised, to experience for themselves the truth of the verse ‘the Son of Man has nowhere to lay His head’, His experience has become theirs.

But what about Tabernacles? Tabernacles is fulfilled in Christ s much as Passover and Pentecost, and therefore it should be as integrated into our faith and church experience as much as Passover and Pentecost. When the Jews celebrate Tabernacles there are some features that survive to this day.

1. They meet under a roof with overlapping branches with gaps that lets the light in

2. Food and drink, and, ceremonially bread and wine, is passed round

3. They remember the time in the desert, when they lived in tents, temporary dwellings.

They were together. In our very individual-based culture, ‘freedom’ is a treasured value, including freedom of speech, the freedom of assembly, and freedom of worship – freedoms that were hard won. But the New Testament speaks of three baptisms: 1. Baptism into Christ – God taking us out of Adam and planting us in Christ (e.g. Romans 6 v 3) 2. Baptism in the Spirit – Jesus is the Baptiser in the Spirit. We are plunged into the Spirit (Acts 2) 3. The Spirit baptises us into one body. This is a Holy Spirit operation (1 Cor 12 v13)

It is the last of the three that we resist; the flesh demanding its illusory rights of independence when our life is the life of Christ. But if we yield and have faith in this truth, we will find ourselves closely knit, grace flowing from one to the other, together under a roof with holes letting the light in i.e. the presence of God. We become a replica of Jesus, ‘the word became flesh and tabernacled among us’ John 1 v 14 but not as single operatives.

Does this mean endless ‘fellowship meetings’ with coffee and donuts or church picnics?? No. Heaven forbid. Was Jesus like this? No. He was among the people, tax collectors, fishermen, radicals, the rich and the poor, men and women, children, believers and unbelievers, lawyers and politicians, lepers and the demon-possessed, the sick and the well, Jews and Gentiles. Our fellowship is in spirit…and sometimes we’ll meet. One moment he was a baby in a feeding trough, and on another occasion feeding 5000. In public view one minute and insignificant, or hidden, the next.

We cannot settle a few hundred miles short of the Promised Land, in our own Harans

But when we meet, as Paul said to the Corinthian church, ‘whenever you come together, each of you has a song, a teaching, a tongue, a revelation…’ in other words it’s a meeting with God who, as Paul had previously taught, has poured out His Spirit and distributed His diverse gifts: words of wisdom, knowledge, faith, healings, miracles, prophecy, discerning spirits, tongues, and interpretation, therefore ‘whenever you come together’ these things are the norm. God the Father, the Son, the Holy Spirit are at work…we are not in charge. Leaders facilitate Tabernacle-style meetings and living. Leaders in plural. Elders. The New Testament knows nothing of one-man (or one-woman) leaders. Or a pope. Or anyone rising up to ‘run’ the meeting, or the church. It’s only a spiritual oxymoron that thinks they are better at running meetings than the Spirit of the Living God.

The Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.

We cannot, must not, settle for either for a ‘Passover-only’ Christianity, or a ‘Passover + Pentecost only’ Christianity. We cannot settle a few hundred miles short of the Promised Land, in our own Harans. We must press on.

Lastly, we press on for what?

‘To Him be glory in the church in all generations’ Ep 3 v21.

“If I keep digging…”

Owen and his rituals.
Shoelaces may be undone
Hair unbrushed
And shirt buttons rarely level
But it was at breakfast
He would strike
Like a coiled adder

Owen the philosopher,
Amidst the clinking of spoons
The careful scraping of butter
On hot toast
The smell of marmalade
And the ruffle of a newspaper
The busyness of a mother

Sat readying himself to ask
Awkward Questions
With his errant shoes banging
Against the crossbeam
Of his chair, it started:
‘Da’ad?’ and the initial reply
A barely audible grunted ‘Yes?’

‘If I keep digging…’
‘Australia.’
A one-word-answer.
As if, like a suitcase,
It contained all the images,
Scents, music, art,
And accents of a far-off land

For six-year-old Owen,
A four-syllable answer
At seven a.m. the pips telling him
What he already knew,
Was a triumph. ‘Australia’
Wriggled down his ear canal
Into his imagination…

Father, discarded and transported
To ‘work’, whatever that meant,
And mother distracted with
Hair and dressing for coffee,
Or, when granny came,
With trainers, bibs, knee supports,
Bending and stretching

The time had come
For today’s importance -
He would not appreciate the
Free rein until old enough
To rebel against any benevolence
Or love’s demands -
Owen found his red boots

And, jacket thrown on,
Like his considered frown,
He sauntered old Labrador style
To the shed to retrieve
A spade, trowel,
And Dad’s oversized gloves.
Selecting his spot, he looked round…

…Mother, from the kitchen window
Returning his frown
Blew a kiss;
The starting pistol:
Drawing himself up
To full height and strength,
Boot on spade; it begun.

Visitors arrived. Someone
Left bread pudding
Parcelled in greaseproof paper
And a tall glass of lemonade
On the rocks.
Speaking of rocks, a
Semi-circle of soil and stone

Like a clockface
Told the time
Until his full bladder
Drove him from the task.
Noon: shadows and
Owen disappeared
Towards Ngunnawal County

The Visitor found him at four
Lying on the burnt orange
Soil of his quest
Looking up with closed eyes
At where the Sun had been.
Dreamtime achieving what
Spade and trowel had not

Or maybe they had…
…over half a milky tea
And buttered scones
Owen introduced his mother
To Kuparr with whom
He had found a worm
As long as his arm

Two breakfasts later
His face emerged
Finally washed and tanned
And, on the table, tea,
Beetroot and tumeric
Stained, lay a freshly carved
Boomerang. ‘Da’ad?’

Paris ‘24 - 29th January 2023

It’s a Sunday. January 29th to be precise and the start of a new week. A week in which I will fail once again to escape this game of physiological snakes and ladders.

My hopes that a return to 10K running have been dashed into a new dismalness and gloom.

A visit to the doc resulted in swift action (thank you NHS) of a telephone consultation with (another) physiotherapist and an X-ray…of my right knee; a new injury I had been attempting to ignore whilst the others had released their uninvited grip.

So…here I sit and stand and stroll with a walking pole, trying not to wince in public with one of those stabbing pains that leaves you helpless and unable to move forward.

Verdict pending, I am reduced to walking…for now.

No running for the past two weeks.

Progress towards Paris ’24 must be faced with a dollop of Gallic Shrug, a smidgen of hope, and a full tank of thankfulness for all the previous running injuries and recoveries, a miracle of healing thrown in, and a generous ladle of faith in God.

We press on.

Knocked down but not knocked out.

Daddy, where do tears come from?

Floored and reduced
Once more
My ignorance on show
Knowing, yet not knowing
Wondering about my words

I look at my child
With a sigh

Through eyes
Like dams holding back
The knowing
The deep waters
Surge tides of grief
Thunderstorms of love
And of the last straws
Before the breaking

Bent double with pain
Stomach cramping
Unbreathing sobs
Forehead pressed into the floor
Fist-pounding sorrow
Loss poured out

With a deep breath
I am ready to say little

But she is after facts
That’s all
Like lego pieces
To click together, or collect
Like sweets in a jar
Or the funny words inside her head
She’s after Daddy
To help her with the lego
That’s all

But we know different:

Tears are manufactured:
An instant recipe
A dash of salt, some oils
Antiseptic mucins
Lacrimal glands responding
Double time
Desperately crying ‘Yes Chef!’
To the voice cursing and urging
Defeated by beauty or rage
Or touch;
Gentleness breaking every man

Plated up. Poured.

That’s where tears come from

I look at my child
She’s two now
Will be three in the summer
So I tell her everything
She likes ‘lacrimal’
And ‘Yes Chef!’
And shouts Yes Chef!
All through the day
Not a tear in sight.

A Flayed Crow in the Hall of Judgement

A Ted Hughes poem…he seemed to have an affinity with crows…A Flayed Crow has foothills, then up, then the summit

All darkness comes together, rounding an egg.
Darkness in which there is now nothing.

A blot has knocked me down. It clogs me.
A globe of blot, a drop of unbeing.

Nothingness came close and breathed on me – a frost
A shawl of annihilation curls me up like a shrimpsfish foetus

Am I the self of some spore?

I rise beyond height -I fall past falling
I float on a nowhere
As mist-balls float, and as stars

A condensation, a gleam simplification
Of all that pertained
This cry alone struggles in its tissues.

Where am I going? What will come of me here?
Is this everlasting? Is it
Stoppage and the start of nothing?

Or am I under attention?
Do purposeful cares incubate me?
Am I the self of some spore?

What feathers shall I have?

Is this the white of death blackness,
This yoke of afterlife?
What feathers shall I have? What is my weakness

Good for? Great fear
Rests on the thing I am, as a feather on a hand.

I shall not fight
Against whatever is allotted to me.

My soul skinned, ad my soul-skin pinned out
A mat for my judges.

 Ted Hughes, Cave Birds

‘Whenever’ - a powerful word that!

At the time of writing, I’m enjoying watching Totems, a Cold War spy series on Amazon Prime. It’s in French with English subtitles. Without the subtitles, I might have been able to follow the gist of the storyline, but the subtitles bring the whole thing together.

If I was writing in sub-titles to this post, it would be this: to evangelical churches – do you believe the bible is the word of God? Good. It is. To charismatic stream churches – do you believe the bible is the word of God? Good.

But do we obey it?

The apostle Paul writing to the church in Corinth wrote these verses:

‘Whenever you come together, each of you has a psalm, has a teaching, has a tongue, has a revelation. Let all things be done for edification’ 1 Cor 14 v 26

This verse was written after quite a long run-up, Paul teaching how the Holy Spirit is the ‘operating system’ in the life of individual believers and churches and how the Holy Spirit coordinates the various spiritual ‘software’ bits or ‘apps’ downloaded in each believer, known biblically as the variety of the gifts (e.g. prophecy) and ministries of the Spirit (e.g. prophet), the charismata, hence charismatic churches.

The first mention in the letter by Paul of the Spirit sets the scene:

‘I was with you in weakness, in fear, in much trembling. My speech and preaching was not with persuasive words of human wisdom but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power that our faith should not be in the wisdom of men but the power of God’ 1 Coir 2 v 4,5

If you’re interested in theology, or psychology, or team leadership, or business…or philosophy, or you’re a great musician, that’s great. Plunge yourself in, enjoy. But none of these things are of any use to the body of Christ unless you have learnt how to rely on the new operating system of the Holy Spirit. Zero use.

Look back at the last time you ‘came together’ as a church. Was it like 1 Cor 14 v 26?

If not, why not? Intriguing, isn’t it? History? Tradition? Faulty teaching?

Don’t be an evangelical oxymoron…

I’ve benefited hugely from good leaders, good preachers, and good ministers. I could listen to some all day long. But the CofE church I grew up in didn’t obey 1 Cor 14 v 26, the Baptist church I went to was moving in that direction, the Charismatic church I went to in Exeter, more so, and others since then…but all had a ‘backstop’ of a leader, often paid, as an essential ingredient of what’s required for the body of Christ to operate. Just look at the Job Section ads in various Christian magazines.

It's subtle. If that leader is a true bible-believing leader he or she will not rest until 1 Cor 14 v 26 is considered as the ‘Normal’ in their congregation. Anything else is…well, off-beam. Isn’t it?

‘Whenever you come together, each of you has a psalm, has a teaching, has a tongue, has a revelation. Let all things be done for edification’ 1 Cor 14 v 26

If that’s not ‘Normal’ in your experience the church has slipped back into relying on man’s wisdom – often, literally, one man’s wisdom:

‘I was with you in weakness, in fear, in much trembling. My speech and preaching was not with persuasive words of human wisdom but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power that our faith should not be in the wisdom of men but the power of God’ 1 Coir 2 v 4,5

If this was true for the apostle Paul how much more so for us! Come back to your true operating system, the Holy Spirit. Like the disciples who left their nets to follow Christ, leave your cleverness or natural abilities behind and switch to the Holy Spirit. Paul was a well-educated trilingual man, versed in Greek, Hebrew, and Aramaic. A confident leader co-ordinating the arrest of Christian believers as part of the thought police of his day – the Pharisees. But when it came to his ‘ministry’ he left that all behind and switched to the Spirit of Christ.

…don’t be a Triumph Herald 13/60 running on reserve

Church meetings should never be predictable. Congregations are not passive. ‘Unto Him shall the gathering of the people be’. Who knows what the Spirit will bring that day? And ‘whenever’ isn’t restricted to Sunday meetings. ‘Whenever’ means just what it says. If, for example, a deacons meeting might have to decide about any number of practical ventures but even that is approached from the Spirit, not your practical or planning abilities. The first deacons were selected on the basis of whether they were filled with the Spirit and faith…individuals who had switched operating systems.

Two illustrations to close. A Triumph Herald 13/60 and a Jazz/Blues band.

My old Triumph Herald 13/60, a wonder car, had a metal lever in the boot. If you were running low on petrol you could push the lever over – the car had a spare tank. But many churches today are running on their spare tanks, their natural abilities. They are well led, well organised, have methods and programs, lively worship bands, and impressive ministries to the poor and youth, and worldwide mission. But the truth is, it’s so easy to drift from the church as a living organism – the body of Christ filled with the life of God - to a man-made organisation with a CEO pastor. Better to switch to the main tank and keep the main tank full. ‘Be filled with the Holy Spirit’ Paul wrote to the Ephesians…and us if we’re evangelical/charismatic believers.

Jazz and Blues bands can play for hours without a note of music in front of them, not because they have memorised every note but because all the music they need is inside them. In New Orleans, the bars are full of musicians who play all day long. As one leaves another joins in. Every so often one might go crazy and blow the roof off with an extemporary solo they have never played before or had been heard by anyone else. All full of enough music to keep it going but willing to let someone ‘speak’.

That’s how church should be. All full of the Spirit and every so often it might be you who brings a revelation or a song, a prophecy, or a miracle of healing…fresh bread.

A good eldership overseeing a congregation will be modelling this to the congregation but not seeking to dominate the meeting otherwise they’re not elders, they’re evangelical oxymorons.

Don’t be an evangelical oxymoron or a passive pew warmer.

And don’t be a Triumph Herald 13/60 running on reserve, switch to the main tank.

And pastors…start trembling like the Apostle Paul who learnt to rely on the presence of the Holy Spirit.

‘To Him be glory in the church through Christ Jesus to all generation’ Eph 3 v 21

Grace, mercy, and peace.

Epiphany

Old enough, they said
To wear shorts to school
Scant protection from
Arctic blasts, gnats, and grazes
Old enough though. Six.

Old enough too
To be weighed down:
Fears of the Foad gang
And dislike of Gypsy Tart
Or four-syllable words

That curious cigarette paper
On which lay black
Hymns, Psalms, and prayers
And ‘Epiphany’
I’d just learnt ph = eff

So, in secret
I sounded out my first
Four syllable
Uninterested in its meaning
Eee-piph-phanee
Eee-piph-anee

Later, years piling on
It became a date
The Magi have come
But somehow still
Shrouded in mystery

Later still, shaving
And loving,
Weighed down once more
I climbed inside the word
And the word inside me

In a moment
Extended for minutes
Standing in the dark
Face upended to the stars
The shroud fell away…

Paris 24 - January 8th 2023 Blog 11

Paris ’24 Blog 11

Time has come to get serious…

December was a write off. A nasty anti-runner virus came my way as soon as the ice had melted and wiped this would-be Olympian out. Recovery consisted of 48 hour straight dedication to the sofa and uncountable episodes of Netflix and – oddly (?) ITVX.

Ugh…

Despite the post-viral patheticness, Christmas jolliness took priority and was enjoyed by all. After four straight days of family fun, chat, food and medicinal measures of this and that I was ready.

Ready, that is for a post-convivial conversations further relapse. The sofa beckoned for another day of TV and zero energy.

BUT…Paris ’24 was never forgotten. Another temporary set-back number ? (I’ve lost count now).

January has arrived. Bitingly cold mornings. And chilling rain. The discipline of run/walk/Pilates/stretching and shoulder exercises is upon me once more.

Today’s early morning jog. Only the 5K Harbourside flat-ish run, nevertheless I was encouraged. The first half was sluggish. My aim: 25’ for 5K. Today 28.30’. But the last 2.5K was 26.30’.

Two aims really for January 2023:

• 5K in less than 27’ maybe on Parkruns

• 10K as near to 55’ as possible

And then progressing to make 10K runs the norm with 5Ks as slow and fast runs. I told you I was serious. Don’t laugh.

Yes I know, the body and mind of a 64yr old, well, this 64yr old, may well not always be the same thing, but…the word NEVERTHELESS is sometimes the most important word in the Universe.

Some of you might be thinking ‘why not make Common Sense your watchword Mr Stevens?’ There’s little hope of that. For Christmas, daughter 4 bought me a wonderful small t-pot. The sort where you put the tea leaves in a small cage, then pour the boiling water over the leaves into the pot, leave and pour without tea-leaves entering your cup. That’s great IF you remember to put the leaves in the cage. If not, all is not lost. Simply pour through a tea-strainer.

NEVERTHELESS is sometimes the most important word in the Universe

Excuse me whilst I use my teeth the filter the leaves once more, having forgotten to execute either of these steps. It’s a good thing I haven’t got my finger on the Nuclear Button or you might not have had the joy of reading this post.

Happy New Year! May God bless all your attempts to run faster than me!

Which End of the Pencil - Part 3 of 3

Part III Spirituality and Sharpeners

A quick reminder from Part I: I have found the following interacting model the most useful in differentiating between body, soul, and spirit:

Body – the five senses that inform us about our environment, what we see, hear, taste, smell, and touch, and the various organs that maintain our organic and physical life

Soul – is part mind (our ability to think and have thoughts), emotions (how we feel), and will (our ability to make decisions). M.E.W. for short.

Spirit – a deeper part of the person designed to have communion with God, ourselves, and others

We are all a combination of all of these parts working together. Think of anyone you know, and you’ll probably be able to identify their centre of gravity. The analytical thinker, the one who is more emotionally driven, another who is ruled by their senses, or the spontaneously wilful. And then there are those who seem to be spiritual.

Why a picture about running? Read on…

Here’s what the Bible says about spirituality:

I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit within you
I will take the heart of stone out of your flesh
And give you heart of flesh
I will put My Spirit within you
And cause you to walk in My statutes’ Ezekiel 36v26

Jeremiah prophesied much the same in his passage foreseeing a ‘new covenant’ - in fact the term ‘New Testament’ refers to this ‘new covenant’ that Jesus spoke at the Last Supper: ‘After supper, he took the cup and said ‘This is the New Covenant in my blood’. The passage sheds a great deal of light on the details of this ‘new covenant’.

So…we all have a spirit. But it may be poor condition - stony and not ‘alive’ in the sense that God has made it for – communion with God. But Ezekiel promises us some sort of heart transplant, and to give us a new spirit, and the Holy Spirit.

That is true spirituality. Christianity properly understood is a spirit-Spirit operation.

It is a divine-human relationship not a set of moral or ecclesiastical rules. It’s not how any prayers you say, or worship music, or bible verses, or baptism, or ‘ministry’, helping others, or church attendance. You might do all of these things but doing these things won’t make you a Christian. The only question is whether you have opened your heart to His heart operation.

That is true spirituality. Christianity properly understood is a spirit-Spirit operation.

Back to unsharpened pencils. Imagine a new pencil lying on the desk in front of you. There is no end and no beginning. They are inseparable. But to make the pencil fulfil its function you must take a blade to one end and sharpen it.

The Bible speaks as much about God coming to us as about us seeking God. It’s like that in any friendship and relationship, it’s difficult to pinpoint who starts a friendship, it often seems to be simultaneous.

If we think of God coming to us, we might think of God seeking Adam and Eve in the garden. He didn’t stay away ‘in heaven’ disapproving of their sin, He came looking for them. Or we might think of Jesus named ‘Emmanuel’ God with us who said things like ‘It’s not the well who need a physician but the sick. I did not come for the righteous but the sinners’. But if we think of man seeking God, we might remember Moses at the burning bush, or the disciples leaving their nets to follow Christ, or Blind Bartimaeus crying out ‘Son of David have mercy on me’.

The deepest form of meditation then is between you and God, between God and you.

My heart was grieved
And I was vexed in my mind.
I was so foolish and ignorant
I was like a beast before You
Nevertheless, I am continually with You
You hold me by my right hand
You will guide me with Your counsel

Some pointers from my meditations on these verses.

You might have noticed this starts with my/our condition. You can’t commune with God unless you open your heart with all its griefs, sorrows, longings, hopes and dreams. It’s difficult not to feel foolish and vulnerable. But true meditation will bring you to the point where there’s only one word in the universe that matters ‘Nevertheless’.

That’s the turning point, the hinge.

It sounds close to madness to say God has spoken to me. Decidedly un-British!

We don’t mind being called ‘children of God’ but here the picture is us becoming like a little child and offering up our right hand. If you’re meditating you might act this sort of thing out, put some flesh on the bones. And then we reach the summit. It’s the true place, the true destination which is, in fact the true starting point – my spirit communing with His Spirit, the Spirit of Christ, the Holy Spirit as I not only hear His counsel but yield to it knowing it is from God who is love.

Now you have started.

It sounds close to madness to say God has spoken to me. Decidedly un-British! Un-CofE! But what else is spirituality if not that? The interaction between His Spirit and mine?

In my limited experience, what often happens is a deep sense of peace arrives, sometimes unexpectedly. Or it may be a conviction to put something right. Or to contact someone. Or a fresh attitude is formed inside. Or something finally makes sense. Or we’re reminded that Christ took all our griefs and sins on the cross, that we’re forgiven. Very occasionally it is something very specific.

I will share one such experience.

I had injured my right knee quite badly. If I ran for a hundred yards or so the pain would be unbearable. Sometimes walking in the hills, the same pain would reduce me to limping and very short strides. My early morning routine for many years has included reading the bible and prayer. One morning, I was praying but not specifically about my knee. All I can say is that I heard a voice (not audibly, but inside, like a strong thought, it’s hard to describe) that said just one word ‘Run!’ I think it was repeated twice. It was said with authority, like a command, but not threateningly. A day or so later I found a path to try running. I ran for about a quarter of a mile, free from pain. Then two miles. Then five miles, ten, and, in the end, half-marathons. I’m still running twenty-five years later.

The Psalmist’s heart was full of grief. His mind was vexed. But, in the end, He was trusting God to guide him with His counsel. Whatever our hearts are full of, meditation (slightly different to prayer, which is mostly to do with asking) can lead us to a place of trust: that all we have is freely given, including God’s counsel.

Which End of the Pencil - Part 2 of 3

Breathe Deeply

Before dealing with breathing head on, let me fire one warning shot across the bows.

Whilst I have no doubt that meditation can have many benefits for ‘you’, that is not, I believe, the ultimate purpose of meditation. In the West we have arrived at a highly developed sense of values that uphold freedom of the individual, the rights of man. At the extreme end lies ‘it’s my life and I’ll do with it what I want’, the cult of personality, and self-centred, ‘self-for-self’ framework within which we expect to experience happiness and an integrated personality. I am as much part of and affected by this cultural scene that would manipulate everything ‘for me’ as if I always need something more. If this article feeds into the idea that meditation is about gaining something purely for ourselves, I will have yielded to the all-pervading consumerist culture that inevitably leaves us dissatisfied with our lot, always needing more, but, If I can, somehow, tilt us away from a ‘striving’ mentality and more towards ‘grace’ an understanding that all we have is freely given - it will have been worth writing.

When Jesus challenged an educated man, a lawyer, about the commandments, he replied ‘First….love the Lord your God with all your heart…and, second, love your neighbour as yourself’ Mat 22 v 34-39

Here’s my very amateur starting point on meditation: everyone does it. It’s a universal human experience.

Imagine you’re in a cinema: before you know it, you become completely unaware of those around you, unaware, really of yourself, you have been absorbed into the film. It’s difficult to know if you’re in the film or if the film is inside you. Or you find yourself daydreaming. One moment you’re engaged in a conversation and the next your mind has wandered and landed on something quite unrelated. Like in the cinema you find yourself transported somewhere else.

Of course, where you go can often seem to be trivial, just a series of jumbled-up gibberish tumbling through your mind but sometimes we are gripped by a thought so that we become deeply quiet, our heart rate slows, and we become aware of a peace that has eluded us for maybe weeks, months, years even. We leave these times refreshed and renewed, ready to face whatever circumstances we are in, with the love of God in us and a new capacity to love ourselves and our neighbours.

Are not these experiences meditation?

Meditation is daydreaming with a purpose.

The question is, can we meditate deliberately? Routinely? Can we include meditation in our daily routines just as much as getting dressed, having coffee, or brushing our teeth?

The second question is what to meditate on.

The answer to Q1. Is a definite ‘Yes’ we can include meditation as part of our daily routine.

The answer to Q2 is more open-ended: a criminal might find meditation very useful in planning a bank-robbery or a preacher a sermon, or a surgeon before an operation. Meditation is not in essence morally good any more than weightlifting, it’s a means to an end.

But if we have Jesus’ vision of a humanity restored to its true purpose and fulness, we’re unlikely to indulge in using meditation for nefarious purposes…in fact, it can be a good antidote when our emotions take us places normally reserved for violent and illegal rage…like if someone puts just a little too much milk in your tea…Arghhh! Count to ten!

Meditation is daydreaming with a purpose

If the image of meditation is more East than West, more Buddhist than Christian we might be surprised to find that the Bible often speaks about meditation and what to meditate on: Isaac went out to meditate into the field; the Lord spoke to Joshua ‘…meditate in the Book of the Law day and night’; meditate on God, meditate on creation, in God’s word, ‘whatever things are true, noble, just, pure, lovely, of good report, virtue, praiseworthy…meditate on these things’.

I should also mention Peter on the roof ‘…he fell into a trance and saw heaven opened…’. St Paul, also, whilst praying, ‘fell into a trance’. The Greek word translated ‘trance’ is ‘ekstasis’ from where we get ecstasy. But this is misleading, ek-stasis, translated ‘trance’ really means ‘to stand outside oneself’, this may or may not be associated with an emotional reaction whereas we understand ‘ecstasy’ to be an experience of sheer pleasure. I would argue when you are lost in a film or lost in your thoughts you are in some sense in a ‘trance’ – standing outside yourself - and are meditating. The word trance is too closely associated with handing over the control of one’s mind to hypnosis…that’s another subject!

OK breathing. And deliberate meditation.

Step One: find somewhere without undue distraction. Sit comfortably or lie on the floor, prostrate or on your back. Some like calming music in the background. (NB sometimes a very noisy environment can work just as well).

Step Two: slow your breathing down, breathe deeply, in out…not too deeply to feel lightheaded.

Step Three: meditate on something; daydream with purpose. the biblical list is a good hunting ground. I’m currently meditating on the following verse from Psalm 73. I’m on day three. I can see this lasting a few more days.

My heart was grieved
And I was vexed in my mind.
I was so foolish and ignorant
I was like a beast before You
Nevertheless, I am continually with You
You hold me by my right hand
You will guide me with Your counsel

Step Four: stopping. Sometimes meditation can take more than an hour – think back to watching a film or reading a good book. My experience is that generally, the deliberate form can finish quite naturally after a few minutes. No need to berate yourself, better to trust that you can meditate for longer, and may well do at times. Think coffee and biscuits v. three-course meals…you can do both.

Next I want to double back to ‘spirituality’…Part III.

Which End of the Pencil? Part 1 of 3

A mini-series on meditation, spirituality, and sharpeners

Part I – Human Beings?

In the space of maybe 72 hours over Christmas, I had three, no four, conversations about Meditation.

The odd thing was that three of these exchanges were not initiated by me, one of the four was a follow-up. Odder still I had written a potential blog titled ‘A Meditation on Time’ which I was sitting on – still am.

Meditation – it seems – is in the air.

Current images associated with meditation do include the Yogic levitator or at least sitting cross-legged in an Eastern meditative tradition, collectively or individually, repeating a rhythmic mantra. Or, maybe, a Christian mystic. A Franciscan brother, perhaps. But things have moved on. Or should I say, ‘gone mainstream’? Now, ‘spirituality’ is a word that is used as an all-encompassing paradigm within which meditation is a subset, a practice rather than the thing itself.

There’s no shortage of self-help books and podcasts that advocate meditation as an antidote to the frenetic lives that erode any sense of calm. Mindfulness speaks so powerfully to a generation that has learned to take mental health seriously - even if the catch-all phrase ‘mental health’ is ill-defined.

Equally, a more detached Western form, clinging on, some might say, to the wreckage of The Enlightenment, Rationality, and Empiricism, you have the evidence-based research and medico-scientific version espoused by Dr Mosely in his Just One Thing series on Radio 4:

In the Meditate episode of his Radio 4 podcast Just One Thing, Michael Mosley explores how an ancient and seemingly simple practice can have such big benefits:

How meditation can help your mood, memory and immune system

If you’re short on time and struggling to unwind, meditation could be the solution.

Just a little bit of practice a day has been shown to improve sleep, mood, boost your immune system, and even physically rewire your response to stress and pain.

This more ‘spiritual’ approach to living presupposes we know what we mean by using the term ‘spiritual’.

Many moons ago I asked a Year 10 tutor group ‘What is a human being?’ After much lively discussion, the consensus was that we have an outer life – our bodies - and an inner life, but no label for the inner life was agreed. It was more that we ‘live inside’ our bodies.

St Paul wrote these words:

‘We do not lose heart even though our outward man is perishing, yet the inward man is renewed day by day’ 2 Cor 4 v 16

Some might say ‘soul’ others might say ‘spirit’ some might say something like ‘inner man’. The bible uses a range of terms to describe the inner life, soul and spirit are well known, but heart, liver, and bowels also get a mention!

The simplest biblical breakdown is spirit, soul, and body. The Buddhist version is similar: Form (body), Sensation, Perception, Thoughts, and Consciousness.

The problem we have in the West is that we use ‘soul’ and ‘spirit’ interchangeably

The problem we have in the West is that we use ‘soul’ and ‘spirit’ interchangeably and generally without too much idea of what either really consists or means. An alternative word is ‘self’, the idea that we are individuals, defined by our ‘self’ as distinct from others.

I have found the following model useful:

Body – the five senses that inform us about our environment, what we see, hear, taste, smell, and touch and the various organs that maintain our organic and physical life

Soul – is part mind (our ability to think and have thoughts), part emotions (how we feel), and part will (our ability to make decisions)

Spirit – a deeper part of the person designed to have communion with God, ourselves, and others – unhurried communication

All three work together, potentially, to form our ‘consciousness’ of what is the true state of things, a deeper knowing and sensitivity to the world and people around us…and God.

Why call this a mini-series on Spirituality and Sharpeners?

A true pencil is sold unsharpened. It has no beginning and no end. In fact, both co-exist…until you decide which end to sharpen. That is a clue to the title. More to be revealed in Part III after an excursion in Part II Breathe Deeply.

If we are to understand meditation it is useful to know who is meditating. The answer is…an intriguing combination of body, soul, and spirit, a living human being.

Grief - a personal perspective

I thought I knew what grief was.

My father ‘Daddy’ died when I was just 12 years old. I didn’t have any notion in my mind that he was dying. My mind denying me the thought? Divine protection?

The decline was traceable. He had diabetes and eventually it affected his balance. I remember him sitting behind the wheel of the car before getting out and walking back into the house. Somehow, I knew that was the last time he would drive. Then he slipped into a coma. And, in retrospect, I know the look of death in someone’s eyes, the life disappearing, and the laboured breathing, but at the time it never occurred to me that he was dying.

I remember him being taken out of the house by two burly ambulance men and taken to the hospital from where he would not return.

I remember my sister or my mother telling me he had died. I was fiddling with the coal fire in the lounge. I collapsed into grief as it overwhelmed me engulfing me in its tidal wave power. And yet some part of my mind could not accept the truth…the American Colonel had surely been taken to some intelligence facility and would return. But really I knew. At the funeral, it was the sight of the Stars and Stripes’ draped coffin passing through the curtain that broke me.

I knew grief. It is stronger than us. We are helpless in its grip. It does a thorough work. Later it lifts, even if we struggle with the guilt that it should. At some point the sun shines again, food tastes like food, and maybe you want to listen to music or laugh at a joke or get angry over something trivial. It’s subsided. It’s over.

That’s grief.

But. But it’s only in recent days that I have discovered a different form of grief.

You are living a life ‘without __________ in the world’ and it’s hard.

St Paul paints a stark picture of the position of the Gentiles in Ephesus:

‘…at that time, you were without Christ, being aliens from the commonwealth of Israel and strangers from the covenants of promise, having no hope and without God in the world’

If you can replace ‘God’ with someone else’s name ‘…having no hope and without __________ in the world’ then you know this form of grief: it’s the absence of someone who is still alive.

You are living a life ‘without __________ in the world’ and it’s hard. So hard.

There seems to be no relief. No one can take their place. And, whatever the reason for the absence, the only thing you can do is yield the pain to God who knows all things. Knowing Christ carried this grief in His body on the cross, that He wipes our tears, however many weeks or years we must endure these feelings, as we become, like Him, ‘a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief’.

My heart was grieved
And I was vexed in my mind.
I was so foolish and ignorant
I was like a beast before You
Nevertheless, I am continually with You
You hold me by my right hand
You will guide me with Your counsel

Ps 73 v 21-24

There is an important distinction between the first and second kind of grief. The first is disabling. It leaves you unable to function normally and in its early stages, if you are not weeping uncontrollably, you are silent and stunned. I didn’t experience anger, though I understand that is common, just deep sadness and disorientation. The second kind of grief can be distinguished from the first in that there must have been some function of the will in arriving at the position of absence: my father didn’t choose to make himself absent i.e. die. At times you are fine but simple things crack, a place, a song, a place open your heart and the absence is all there is.

Finally, Jesus said it is ‘blessed are you when your mourn; you shall be comforted’. Whatever else this means, suppressing mourning, trying to ignore it, or avoid it, or worse, looking for some form of comfort to numb the pain may seem to make sense at the time, but all we are achieving is delaying the day when we face the reality that our heart is grieved and our mind vexed. Only then can we move further on through the verses in Psalm 73 and allow ourselves, as much as we did to grieve, to be held by our right hand and guided by His counsel.

The Pilates Instructor

Unclipping vertebrae, one at a time
A slow, continuous curve
A staircase really, not a wave
Bones and shock-absorbers
Worn from life and living
Unclipping, one at a time

To fold like a rag doll
My low red face restraining,
Like a dam, my innermost,
From tumbling to the floor
Ten whole, lovely long seconds.
An interlude. Hanging there.

Winding down, I lie still
Letting a train of ladybirds
Crawl under my taut abs.
Or is it my glutes?
I flap like a fish, a hundred times.
Only wingless ladybirds remain

Unaligned body meets
Unaligned soul
They rarely talk, but today
With deepening breaths
Their awkward exchanges
Match my graceless moves

Sweeping the floor now
With my extended ballet foot
Drawing anything but smooth
Supple or serene circles…
But, to my surprise,
My soul looks on gently amused

Smiling, in fact, eyes laughing,
A random collision
A friend found inside a moment
Someone, it seems
You’ve always known:
Someone, plugged into Peace

And now, a new voice speaks,
Unclipping sore and stiff spines
And your tension-twisted torso
And your long-neglected heart
Enfin, you’ve become your own
Instructor. Peace.

Six Counties Wide

Normally some wretched
Inner engine-room coughs and splutters its
Rhymeless blood, the national pulse,
Evicting its poetic tenants
Long before dawn. Not today.
Amnesia? No. Whispers of anxiety
‘Not qualified’. Humbled by six counties,
Defeat hangs heavy on my Yuletide shoulders

Sore Afraid

the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid

Don’t open your lips, please
Don’t extend your hand
Nor even end my fear
I’m clinging on
Can’t you see?
To my staff, to this world

No, don’t sing
Don’t bring the glory down
Heaven can’t fit inside me
I am lost now
Shorn like my sheep
Naked to your
All baptising love

I cannot fully return
To the world
Of tousled sheep
And scraggy babes
Surrounded as I am
By this thin disguise

My staff a reminder:
Then a conductor’s baton
Of heavenly choirs.
More than wood
Infused as I am with
Joy inexpressible

A Sense of England

I’m unsure I can feel you, England
So many winds have blown
And waters brought us ashore
Do we find ourselves
Still, in Ælfred’s skirts?

What is your scent? Your signal?
A dysentery rotting
Army in Azincourt,
A weak autumnal leaf
Certain to die?

But we are a miracle nation
With two fingers thrust to the sky
And knees bent, battle breath
Exhaling ‘We few, we happy few,
We band of brothers’

What is your sound? Your voice?
It is not the matchless
Hen Wlad Fy Nhadau
Or the fearsome Tartan drone
Of kilts and pipes

No, it is simply the crack
Of a hard-red-ball on willow
Of stumps and white boundaries
The sigh of a pig’s bladder
And the boot of a mob

Foreigner. What do you see?
Is it not a small place
An island
Armed to the teeth
With Trident and tea and scones at four?

It is an uncertain people
Tentatively sharing their King
With the neighbours
Who may soon be blown
And washed away

And yet, there is that
Unmistakable taste of history
The suppurating wounds
Of wars to make peace
And foreign fayre on the menu

Beef Wellington, Sir?
Served with irony:
Pâté de foie gras
As English as Spotted Dick
À l’Alexis Benoît Sayer

Winds will blow
And waters threaten
The house Ælfred
But her rivers may yet
Run deeper than blood

Rogue Heroes

9.8 million of us watch Rogue Heroes.

Until yesterday my reaction to Rogue Heroes was probably typical: so much appealed, the sense of adventure into the unknown, the hostile environment of the desert, the danger of the wilderness quite apart from the Nazis, the escape from ponderous, misguided, and unimaginative authority structure bogged down in Cairo to actually achieve something out of all proportion to their numbers…the stuff of legends and heroes. It has a certain visceral appeal.

And then yesterday happened: it started to speak to me, as if it wanted to teach me something, make me see something. It almost switched from being a TV adaptation of history to being a parable of sorts.

Victory forged in the desert.

The biblical examples poured in, with a twist.

Moses, a murderer had escaped to the wilderness, the desert. Once a prince living in luxury in Pharoah’s palace was exiled to herding a flock of sheep in the desert for forty years. But it was in the desert that he encountered the burning bush. God. The Exodus was forged in the desert long before the Jews caught sight of Moses with his stick, or Pharoah refused to let the Jews depart.

David, again used to a palace existence playing music for Saul the king, was chased out of the palace into the desert, the wilderness, ending up in the cave of Adullam with those in debt and trouble. But in this nomadic stage, a new Israel was born to replace Saul’s kingdom.

Victory forged in the desert

And Jesus. If we charismatic Christians had written the script it would have read something like ‘And Jesus came to John to baptised in the Jordan. As He came up out of the water, the dove fell on Him as the Holy Spirit anointed Him with the power to be the Messiah. The next day he went to preach at Nazareth and a man with a withered hand came in and Jesus healed him. The next day a thousand more came and by the end of the month, he was walking into Jerusalem as King’. But we know that the first work of the Spirit in Jesus was to drive (the Greek word ‘balo’ is the same word used for driving out demons) Jesus into the desert to face the devil. After the wilderness came the ministry AND the discipling of the twelve and the others.

We should not be surprised if we find ourselves in a desert, a dry place, a wilderness. It is here we get our specialist training. That’s the first point.

The second is this. The twist. It’s not a solitary hero that emerges from the desert. The Hollywood Jesus is handsome, taller than the disciples, and dressed in white, while the women and the apostles wear duller clothing. He has a perfectly groomed beard and walks and talks like a refined John Wayne; his six-shooter replaced with resurrection power, and he’s quick on the draw. I love this Jesus, of course!

Man of sorrows acquainted with grief

But the Jesus of the New Testament had nowhere to lay his head. His family thought he was insane. He suffered constant opposition. Many who followed him for the miracles turned away at the cost. He was as Isaiah had prophesied ‘A man of sorrows, acquainted with grief’. And all the time it was with others who shared the same existence and faced the same foes. This ‘band of brothers’ could only function due to the constant giving and support from the women in His travelling band. Christianity was born as a mobile Adullam cave!

If you’re in a desert, maybe you need to ‘see’ Rogue heroes differently. It’s dry and hot, and relentless. It’s a wilderness with little comfort. But there’s a divine purpose hidden from view.

the gospel isn’t just for impressive people, it’s for everyone

I sit on my settee watching. So impressed. Thinking I’d like to be that courageous, that skilled, that resilient, that purposeful…knowing I’m not! I’ll always be impressed by impressive people. But the gospel isn’t just for impressive people, it’s for everyone.

So, watching Rogue Heroes with different eyes, whatever the past may have been to land us in the desert, in the wilderness, I know Someone who seems to meet His people there and join us to others…see this verse from Jeremiah. Note it’s not singular, it’s plural.

‘The people who survived the sword found grace in the wilderness’ Jeremiah 31 v 2

Salmo Salar

The Moon lying large
Its milky disc of light
Drawing down
Into the blush of dawn
Its last beams crossing
Shallow bends of the Tay
Into the shadow of Schiehallion

Somehow a cold sun
Rises without noise,
Pomp or ceremony
Glinting from surface ice
Swelling with the
Hidden waters writhing
Below, unknowing the night

And, caught in an unlit pool
An eye looks up
Salmo Salar,
Lying in wait
Patient to kill, to spawn
Encased in ice
Not yet undone

The journey home
Like the prodigal
Its ungrateful sins washed
In the oceans
And here, bedraggled
Wounded, and glorious
Lies Scotland, unfinished

This is no grave
This spawning ground
So easily misunderstood
This place of death
This tomb, a womb…
My eyes met her eye
I looked away

© John Stevens

The Ceilidh House

The peat fire crackles and burns with stories;
footsteps scurry through mist and mountain
to warm a Hebridean hearth with stories.

A figure crosses turf where St Columba
knelt long ago beside the Snizort;
the crofter’s creel is laden with stories.

He pauses to watch the snow-stars drifting
on the loch, with its kelp and pebbles;
hares in the lazy-bed leap with stories.

The crofter enters his neighbour’s parlour,
rests on the settle while divots smoulder;
a plaintive skirl fills the room with stories.

Shadows dance round the doleful piper,
whose music makes the embers tremble;
the single oil lamp flickers with stories.

A mother stirs her three-legged cauldron;
sisters spin, or weave at the handloom,
infusing a homemade plaid with stories.

Hailstone tears pound the snow-flecked Cuillin,
recalling the Clearances, emigration:
the Ceilidh House overflows with stories.

© Caroline Gill

www.carolinegillpoetry.com

From: Driftwood by Starlight (The Seventh Quarry Press, 2021)

Caroline’s MacDonald grandfather and great-grandfather were born in Sydney. Her 3x great-grandfather had been a shepherd crofter in the Highlands. The poem was written after visits to the Skye Museum of Island Life and the Clan Donald Archives in Armadale. The poem is a Tercet Ghazal, a form developed by Robert Bly (d.2021) from the traditional Persian Ghazal, a complex form written in couplets and involving a pattern of refrain- and rhyme-words