The Rock

One of the perpetual challenges of any Christian ministry is balancing what is our work and what is God's work.  This poem explores something of that with the idea with the idea of trying to move an immoveable rock.

Stressing, straining, sweating, complaining;
They tried to move the rock.
Rooted, remaining, resisting, unchanging
The rock remained quite still.

Projecting, predicting, proclaiming, declaring;
This rock just has to move.
Rooted, remaining, resisting, unchanging
The rock remained quite still.

Stubborn, stupid, selfish, clueless;
The rock didn't understand.
Rooted, remaining, resisting, unchanging,
The rock remained quite still.

Tearful, tantrums, trials and stress;
This rock caused endless pain.
Rooted, remaining, resisting, unchanging,
The rock remained quite still.

Penitent, prayerful, petitioning, faithful;
The rock was barely a pebble.
Transferred, transformed, truly loved,
The rock is life filled dust.

Empowered, enabled, emboldened, hope filled;
The rock is the foundaiton.
Beginning, believing, building, receiving,
The rock redeemed by love.

Sanctuary

This is a poem I wrote about the New Wine Sanctuary Venue which I have been blessed to co-lead. I shared it during a reflection about the space. People wondered if it was a a available anywhere, so here it is.

Welcome to this thin place
Where the hungry feed on bounteous grace
Where wounded hearts are held and healed
Where teaching is imbibed and sealed

Welcome to this peaceful place
Where we draw nearer to your face,
Where people soak within God's love,
Where the Spirit descends from above.

Welcome Lord, meet us here,
Where stillness will drive out our fear.
Where hope invites transformation
Where lives are changed through redemption.

In the Silence

Priesting retreat, Foxhill, 6-8th June 2013

Far from the madding crowd,
Where arboreal guardians surround,
I enter the symphony of silence.

This chorale is accompanied by birdsong chatter
And tea cup’s clatter.
The crowd’s cacophonous call cannot compete
With the overture of perfect peace.
Here, I lay down to rest.

My mind is stretched and put to the test,
By the task that lies ahead.
Where the world’s competing calls cry and crow
Cajoling us to march to their beat.
The demand for a pastor who works ever faster;
A priest who can juggle and fly.
A vicar who’s slicker
Who stops people bicker
Whilst maintaining their cool all the while.

There is relief in this quiet place.
This ridiculous raucous racket of requests
Finds no traction in the echo of silence.
My reality rests in eternity’s breast,
In the closeness of one quiet call.
The Father’s word is heard;
Calling the sinner home;
Holding and healing
Blessing and dreaming
Of how heaven’s hymn could be sung.

In this silent place,
The soloist’s song soars,
‘Do not fear,
For I have redeemed you,
I have called you by name,
You are mine.’
In the swelling symphonic song of silence,
I sing my eternal refrain,
‘Here I am, send me!’

Stations of the Cross

The Stations of the Cross are a traditional Christian way of meditating on the passion.  There are traditionally 14 images, three of which are Christ falling.  Tonight I led the reflecitons in our church on the stations using poems for each section.  These are the three complimentary poems for the three times Christ falls:

Christ Falls for the First Time

Step by step Along this brutal path
Each step
Nearer death
Wood scraping
Taunts flung
Bile and hatred
Directed at the Christ


Step by step
Along this brutal path
Each step
Nearer death
Head crowned as Thorns bite
Back screams as fresh whip furrows sap strength
Head swimming
Knees caving
Darkness growing
Floor coming up fast
Nerves playing a symphonic cacophony of searing submerging pain
Every inch of this fragile form failing, falling
As the cross crashes down to crush it’s carrier

Blackness.
A silver tongued devil whispers,
“Stay down. You’re done here.
Nothing more to prove, nothing more to achieve.
Let discretion be the better part of valour,
Admit defeat and stay down.
The pain will be over sooner that way,
You can find rest.
You can be at peace.
This body of yours has taken enough,
Just stay down…”

Voices shouting.
Reality drifting back into focus.
Hands grabbing shoulders
Feet being put back on the floor
Cross back on shoulder.
Step by step
Along this brutal path
Each step
Nearer death

Christ Falls for the Second Time

Step by step
Along this brutal path
Each step
Nearer death
Mouths spitting
Soldiers kicking
Hatred flowing
Pain growing.
Head spinning
Eyes dimming
Floor rising
As cross crashes, crushing it carrier.
Blackness

A silver tongued devil speaks.
“Just one word from you and this is all over.
You’re gone, you’re elsewhere.
Angels assisting enlisted to carry their King.
These idiots don’t see you like I see you
They don’t know your true worth.
Your true value.
Acknowledge my wisdom and I will give you authority over them.
They will see their king, they will bow down and pay their dues.
You don’t need to walk another step.
There’s a better way than this, an easier way.
Just say the word and I can save you all this pain and anguish.
They’ll all get what they deserve, its only right.
You’ll be free, just bow down to me.”



Decision made.
Feet planted.
Pushing up out of blackness.
The pain brings the world back into sharp focus.
Crowd close in
Step by step
Along this brutal path
Each step
Nearer death. 

Christ Falls for the Third Time

Step by step
Along this brutal path
Each step
Nearer death
Blows rain down
From Soldiers keen to pick up the pace
A punch lands square in Jesus’ Face
Head swimming
Street spinning
Floor flying up
Head hitting stone
Cross crashing down, crushing its carrier
Blackness

The silver tongued devil speaks.
Is it really worth it?
All this suffering?
All this pain and anguish?
End it, call it off.
What are you really going to achieve?
Hours of agony, for what?
To prove some kind of love?
To tell people who don’t care that you love them about your love for them?
Just let them reject you.
They’re unworthy.
They’re unaware of who you really are.
If they can’t recognise you now, they never will.
I see it as it really is.
Just accept me.
Just recognise me.
And all this pain can be over.
You can be king over all of these pointless people.
You could be Lord in the temple
You could be the great King that David never was.
The King that David never could be, because David never had me behind him
David never had me backing him.
I would support you, if you would bend your knee.
I could end this torment, this torture.
I could raise you up and make them worship you.
We could turn the tables and you could torture them.

“ENOUGH”
The true king exercises his rights.
“BE SILENT”
Jesus speaks,
“Shema yisrael”
“‘Hear O Israel,
The Lord is our God, the Lord alone.
You will love the Lord your God
With all your heart
With all your Soul
With all your Strength’
Get behind me Satan
Your silver tongue weaves a web of lies
Your deceit is hollow and empty
You know NOTHING of the WORD of the LORD.
But I was with God in the beginning”
With that, the Serpent’s head is crushed.


Noise growing
Light spreading
Hands pushing
Knees scraping
Feet finding
Cross lifting
Step by step
Along this brutal path
Each step
Nearer death

Ash Wednesday

Remember that you are but dust, and to dust you shall return.
Turn away from your sin and be faithful to Christ.

Remember that you are but dust, and to dust you shall return.
Turn away from your sin and be faithful to Christ.

Remember that you are but dust, and to dust you shall return.

Turn away from your sin and be faithful to Christ.

Heads bowed in humility.

Reminded of their humanity.

Foreheads etched with the sign that will set them free.

Palms of hollow praise; burnt and pulverised to penitential paste.

Dust to crown children of dust.
To mark their future as children of Christ.

Dwelling with joy and grace

This is the product of a 24 hour retreat looking at Philippians led by the very marvelous Revd Christine Bull.  The links are to images are those she led us through, the wandering words are mine.

In the darkest prison,
The pen flashed on the page.
Like light through a prism,
These words illuminate.
Joy sparkles and shines,
Its cascading colours fill the dimly lit gloom,
Like cartwheeling figures dancing to a tune.
This poem of freedom birthed by a captive
His joy uncontained, unrestrained and untamed
Flows from the source of all things.

Against it, I pit my deepest dark fears
Questions unanswered
Barren, wilderness Walks
All burdened by logic which intellect taught.

But this freedom is grace
Not divorced from thought
But birthed by imaginations rich tapestry
Beyond observation comes freedom for me
Fragile thoughts weave, spin and warp
Like swirling bright stars in the firmament caught

As ephemeral reason flies out of reach
From them grows a still inner peace.
Here in the perichoretic dance am I found
My feet moving fast, barely touching the ground
I drink from the source that I find in this groove
As Christ my companion teaches me to move.
This gift freely given to use with the love
That he demonstrates to all high above
As nailed to a cross he bleeds for us
With history's manic panoramic view spread below
My Saviour shows grace given freely for all

So, bound in the freedom I find in this love
The joyful colours now descend like a dove
The Holy Spirit empowers bitter sweet truthes:
That light shines in darkness;
Our questions are themselves answers;
Joy is seen in sorrow's shadow;
And grace's freedom is a servant's yoke.

Amazed by Grace

I was involved in an amazing project a couple of years ago called The Beat Eucharist.  It expanded my ideas about worship hugely and helped build my confidence to mess around with words at all.  As part of this, we led a celebration of the Beat Eucharist at college where we experimented with Beat Sermon's.  This is mine; Amazed by Grace. (With a good nod to John Newton)

Amazed by grace, yet we confound

By following our TV

We fix our mind on image and sound

And build up our own ‘me’

Frame after frame of worldly pain floods our deepest sense of self.  We gorge ourselves on every aspect that the flat-screened casket spews into the pews of the gathered sofa church.  A nationwide funeral homogeneously pelts out the eulogy of the pre-supposed passing of poor old me. 

We cling to self importance, self worth, self indulgence singing the shallow song of doing it all our way; being the one and only, somehow forgetting the one and only, who gave it all for me.

In our kingdom, we each are king; the greatest and the good.

Pious and proud we each look down and with scornful looks deride.

Yet deep inside, past taught tripwires and bulky barricades lies a mirror – the very heart of our being – the core of our consciousness.  It reflects the very light of heaven, an image of the Almighty.  It puts to flight the fight of those who seek to feed on our need; the carrion picking vultures who vehemently seek to make us think  that our funeral casket is already being carried to our grave.

But if we look deep, deep into the scratched mirror that lies dusty and forgotten in the pit of our despair.  Glancing through grime that time has etched across the once gleaming glass, we expect to inspect the image of the ‘me’ built up so selfishly, but shocked we see not me, but he! Arms flung wide in love for me; he died for me; he lives for me!

We look again, but still we see, the Christ reflected back.  The healing hands held wide, wide open in love.  We wipe the mirror, now wet with tears which tell of torments past.  The dirt gives way so we can see the way, the truth, the life.

Questions of greatness now grieve as we perceive the future path.  We conceive our greater need to breathe the breath of God – to feed on that which freed our stumbling sense of self.  To cut out that which cuts out light to the life that we could lead.

The mirror marks our march of transformation from the shallow selfish me once moulded by me but now, step by stumbling step striving to mirror the Messiah modelled for me by the higher power of the divine maker, creator and author of me, who put the mirror inside of me, breathed life in me and as a Father longs for me.

The Kingdom of Rust filmed in high definition with every passing particle captured in chromatic climactic crowning glory is now eclipsed by my Messiah’s glory.  My heartfelt cry claws at my throat as an urgent utterance desperate to be declared.

Change me Lord, mould me to be who you created me to be.  Let my image, my very self, reflect your image.  Let others see what you want me to be and your Kingdom be brought through me.

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,

That saved a wretch like me.

I once was lost but now am found

Was blind, but now I see.

Andy Stinson and John Newton

Christmas

So this is Christmas
And what have you done?
Everything ready?
Celebrations begun?

The Shopping completed,
The Family all here.
Dinner is cooking
And soon stress appears!

But then it is gone.
Laughter flows, love grows
And soon Grandma sleeps,
Dozing through TV shows

Amidst all this hubbub
Dare we join the dots
Search for connections,
See what we can spot.

Celebration and wonder
Surrounding a child
Such humble beginnings
With straw and dung piles

Tinsel and sparkle
Fit for a great king
Shepherds pay homage
And angel choirs sing.

Gifts that are given
Thought out and planned
Meaning so much more
Than they understand

The stars in the sky,
Once play things to him,
Now shimmer and gleam
To welcome us in.

Right at the centre
Of all of this fuss
Comes our Lord Jesus
Born for each of us.

Love has come to us;
God here on the earth.
The source of creation
Himself come to birth.

A contradiction;
Impossibility,
God walking with us
With you and with me.

He brings salvation,

A Future for all
To overcome sin’s curse
To redeem the fall.

Our eternal future
A tiny baby
Creation’s promise
Released, set free.

So this is Christmas,
What has been done?
Sin’s curse is over,
A new era begun.