Saturday, 14 October 2017

Walking With A Limp

I walk with a limp,
because of what I have done,
and what others have done to me.

I have wrestled with God,
not face to face
as Jacob did,
but from time to time
over the years.

I have wrestled with
the aching questions,
the need to comprehend
myself and others
more than I do.

I have wrestled with God
about my frailty,
and He knows the depths of it.

I have wrestled with
wanting more than I now see,
something of the supernatural
that seems beyond my reach,
but is evidently there.

I wrestle for a while,
and then let go,
and walk away
consumed by my own lack.

I walk with a limp,
but I still choose to walk.


Saturday, 7 October 2017

Mark of the Beast

Black and white
cowboy hats
are swapped.
The good guys
become the bad guys.

The law abiding
become the law breakers.
Outcasts,
society misfits,
refusing to conform
to take the mark.

Unable to buy or sell,
unable to travel
through security checks,
excluded from every
pervasive technological interaction.

A people group
refusing to bow,
as Daniel's friends
once did in Babylon.

They survived the
fiery furnace,
and walked out of it
unharmed.

Those called by
Christ's name
will face a future
challenge.

Whether to bow
to the demands of
the mark of the beast,
or whatever
the consequences,
continue to put their trust in God.

Saturday, 30 September 2017

Supernatural

Supernatural
is not a huge amount
of natural.

Extra-ordinary
is not a special delivery
of more ordinary.

If I want to
live an extra-ordinary life,
I don't want to fill it
with excessive amounts
of more of the same.

I need to do
something
different.
Something beyond ordinary,
but I am only human.

God is supernatural.
He is above and beyond
the natural world we live in.
He can gatecrash with miracles,
and confound skeptics.

He can act like He is
in charge of the Universe,
because He is.

I wonder if
He would like
to join His supernatural
to my ordinary,
and together we could do
something quite

extra-ordinary.

Saturday, 23 September 2017

Heaven

Light
and delight,
and joy exploding
through your being.

Fullness and wholeness,
and every question answered,
and every need met.

Old friends and new friends,
and family of so many generations
welcoming and loving,
without holding back.

Grace and peace.
Hope and joy.
Healing complete and forever.

Listening and seeing
sounds and sights
inexplicable yet totally real.

Laughing and hugging,
and being held in perfect love.

Praise and worship.
Lifting and pouring forth gratitude,
and revelation of God’s great grace.

Your Saviour beheld,
and clasped hands held, 
welcoming you into eternity with Him.

Saturday, 16 September 2017

Contended Dream

The enemy is contending
for my dream.
He has seen it
as I have,
but somehow he believes
in it more than me,
and will stop at nothing to destroy
its destiny.

He uses different tactics
depending on the mood
he finds me in.

He stirs me to overdo
till exhaustion lays me low.
He smothers my heart with pain
to cause it to go cold.
He distracts me
with pleasant things
that fill my soul space,
or unpleasant things
that downwards drag.

He brings along
some words to suppress
my spirit,
or puff up pride.

His armory appears endless
and time is on his side.
He has come across
humanity before,
in all its fragile forms
beset by original sin,
and not so original ones.

He tries to side swipe
my God given dream
out of my hands
by crafty cunning,
as I fail to see
he is behind my trials.

Yet God still loves me.
He is still with me,
and His perfect will is in the dream
He entrusts me with,
to bring forth future fruit.

My faltering faith
He touches with His mighty power.
His Spirit revives me,
and He shines His light upon my path.

He lifts my eyes to see Him,
and we lock our gaze
as He talks me through
the steps to practice,
until our perfect dance comes forth,
and I can say again
to the enemy,
'You will not have my dream today'.

Saturday, 9 September 2017

Flu

My head is split
three ways,
like kindling
waiting to start
a fever fire.

My throat aches
when I try to talk,
when I cough,
when I breathe.

I long to escape the pain,
seeking somewhat relief
in pharmacist medication.

My life energy
is diverted
to viral warfare.
I age suddenly,
walking with weary gait
and down-turned gaze.

Multiple destinations of discomfort
compete for my attention,
all unwelcome visitors.

Pain makes itself powerfully
at home
as the virus blankets me.

It runs its cursed course
through my life,
all the while
stealthily seeking
its next victim to infect.


Saturday, 2 September 2017

Well Done

'Well done good and faithful servant.'
How we long to hear
those spoken words,
when all is done and dusted,
and world is wrapped up,
to be replaced
with something infinitely more wonderful.

Well done for what?
Being part of Christ's body on earth?
Showing up on a Sunday?

The well done will look much deeper.
It is for all the times when you faithfully did
what you were born to do,
even when no one was recording it
for posterity.

God saw and He smiled.
Such a smile,
and He only gives that particular smile to you.

For within its frame is held
every interaction
and conversation
between the two of you.
All your struggles,
all your triumphs,
all the choices made
to never give up on
your together journey.

'Well done' will mean what is does to you alone.

And you and God will share another smile.

Saturday, 26 August 2017

Words

Words
without
sequence
wait patiently to join
creative coherence.

Each word strung together
with so many syllables,
soft or strong,
produce life change in the hearer.

Some words only come out
on special occasions.
Others feel overdone,
hackneyed.
But even they will have their day,
and change a life
for better or for worse,
and not just at a wedding.

A thoughtless word shared
still becomes a thought
in another,
intended or not.
Some words lodge deep inside the soul,
stuck,
revolving and resolving
to escape or be at peace,
unable to find another home.

Some words heavily laced with hope,
are themselves amazed at how much difference
they make to so many.
They stop and stare at themselves
imprinted on page,
or embedded in bronze,
for posterity.

They smile inwardly,
imagining more discerning yet difficult words,
page stuck in an
un-thumbed thesaurus.

A set of words
once
used
cannot be deleted,
however many attempts
to push that particular button.

They remain forever
in the world,
busy about their task,
producing life or death
in the lives of you and I.

Saturday, 19 August 2017

Meditation on 2 Corinthians 13 v 11

"Finally brethren, farewell. Become complete.
Be of good comfort, be of one mind, live in peace,
and the God of love and peace will be with you."

Become complete.


It is a high calling,
and far reaching,
and totally impossible
by myself.
It is a striking challenge,
a shout across
rooftops of lives
lived in half measures
and almost there's.

Become complete.

I want to
and need to
and part of me
agrees totally.
The other parts
are still counting
the costs
and doing the maths.
(Something I have
always found
an insurmountable task.)

Become complete.
I get it
and I don't get it.
It's simple profundity
causes me confusion,
as with all matters
of life and faith
that appear startlingly
straightforward,
until you begin
to attempt them.

Live in love and peace.
What does it mean,
to be willing to lay down your life?
Meanwhile my self preservation
makes bookings for a bunker.

Become complete.
Give up
and give in
and give out
and receive in
and flow out
and I'm not quite sure
if I'm up for that today.
(Yesterday was a challenge.)

Become complete.

It wouldn't have been said
if it wasn't possible.
How do I become complete?

Saturday, 12 August 2017

Meditation on Isaiah 42 verse 6

"I the Lord,
have called You in righteousness,
And will hold Your hand."

The Lord will hold my hand.

How would it be for the Lord
to hold my hand?

Strong, secure,
caring, loving,
all knowing,
never taken by surprise.

Aware of the final outcome
of any and every event.
Not flustered, unfazed,
deliberate, peaceful.

Gracious, grace filled,
grace giving and receiving.
Not condemning or judging,
allowing love and light to overcome.

Wise and understanding,
measured thoughtfulness and response.

Thinking and wanting
the best for others,
seeing them through Heaven's eyes.

Unhurried, unstressed,
in total balance,
replete and ready
to share every good gift.

Righteousness and right living,
and forgiving,
and welcoming again
any who have turned aside.

Beauty and truth,
worship and wonder.

How would it be
for the Lord to hold my hand
each day?


Saturday, 5 August 2017

Try Hard

I have been
such a try hard
for God.
Trying hard
to get it all right,
say the right things,
behave the right way
in every situation.
But God loves me anyway.

I have been
so broken.
Broken in my thoughts,
what I say
and what I do.
But God loves me anyway.

I have been
so judgmental.
Judging others
for what they
say and do,
and whether they are
getting it right or not.
But God loves me anyway.

I have been
so selfish.
Thinking how to make
my life better,
more comfortable,
more successful.
But God loves me anyway.

I have been
so weak
in my faith,
not understanding
everything there is to understand.
But God loves me anyway.

I don't do
enough for others,
give enough of
what is mine.
But God loves me anyway.

I am weak
and foolish
and double minded
and imperfect
in so many ways.
I'm so glad
God loves me
anyway.

Sunday, 30 July 2017

Goodbye

I hate
to say
goodbye
to you.

It is heart havoc,
wrecking my soul peace,
pain waves
crashing into me.

Our closeness
is wrenched out of its socket,
tearing me as I lose you again.

Connected by blood,
separated by time and space.

The cruel age of travel ease,
divided by distance loved ones.

You are absent to me,
yet I know you exist
vibrantly,
in other's lives.

Our time together grows
increasingly precious.

I long for the life to come,
when goodbyes
will be gone,
forever.

Saturday, 22 July 2017

Legacy

What will people say about you
when you leave this room,
this life?

What difference made
will be noticed,
remembered?

What wisdom words
will others onward carry
from you,
noting their origin
with fondness?

How do you change
the atmosphere when you arrive?
Are others glad to see you,

or see the back of you?

Do you stand out in a crowd?
Do you want to?

Can you remember the last time
someone was thankful
for a kindness you did or said?
Can you remember the cause?

Do you understand how others
look at you,
see you,
think about you?

Is it a true reflection?
Are you the same with others and alone?
How many different masks do you wear?

Do others know that you love them,
care for them,
treasure them?
Is your life precious to them?

Do you understand what legacy truly means?

Do I?

Sunday, 16 July 2017

Psalm 23 Verse 3

My soul has been weary,
exhausted,
frazzled and fried,
troubled and tired,
worn out with other's cares.

The Lord is my Shepherd.
He restores my soul
on a narrow coastal path,
with sheer cliff face.

My stride has slowed,
watching for the time
in my over busy life,
that I can rest.

Bracken and purple tufted heather
tumble down to the
white tipped waves,
meeting billowed mist
rolling off towering rocks.

I come here
full of expectancy,
that I will somehow
find my answer
in this place.

Wild goats wander
the impossible incline,
with a sure footed
defiance of gravity.

I find myself still
in a hurry to do life,
unwilling to truly rest
for time is preciously short

We stride out
resisting the threatening skies,
buffeted by wind
at times so loud
we cannot hear each other's words.

South Wales nestles
in the far distance,
among cloud castle ramparts.
The late afternoon
creeps towards dusk.

I begin to find peace,
held securely
in God's strong hands,
on this winding way.

The busy past and restless future
are somehow kept at bay,
and surrounded by
His own Creation,
the Lord begins
to restore my soul.

Saturday, 8 July 2017

Temptation's Door

Do not linger long
at temptation's door.
The longer you stay,
the harder it will be to walk away.

The longer you linger,
the more likely you are
to grasp the handle,
and set the door ajar,
just to look.

The longer you look,
the more the vision
will fill your senses,
until the siren call
drowns out your conscience voice.

The longer the vision
dances before your eyes,
the harder it is
to see darkness for what it is.

Your eyes grow accustomed
to the lack of light,
and the shadows do not
frighten you as they should.

You stand on the threshold
with the door swung wide,
and nothing remains
except for you to take the final step.

Thoughts of consequence
have long since gone.
Wisdom words of the Creator
duly discarded.

The high price that will be paid
does not register
until it is too late,
for the one who has
lingered long at temptation's door.

Saturday, 1 July 2017

Numb

I feel numb
from hearing your news.
It is your tragedy,
and it will change your life
in every way, forever.

I feel numb
at your loss.
A numbness that has settled
as silence around my soul.

I sit
and am shocked
at life's unexpected blows,
that do not drop a single person
but all those close around.
A ten pin tumbling
of shattered lives.

Close tragedy makes us numb,
but we steel ourselves
as we watch the news,
so we do not break down daily
and weep at the fruit
of this so broken earth.

We can become immune
to suffering,
as if we have
vacuumed sealed our souls,
and no longer feel
rejoicing or despair.

So I will allow this
state of being numb,
and will not chase it away,
for it shows me my soul still cares,
and I want you to know I do.

Saturday, 24 June 2017

The Long Way Home

It's a long way home
if you are walking
in the opposite direction,
refusing to heed advice
or wisdom from others honesty,
or the Creator's manual.

Your journey takes you through
deep chasms of chaos,
hard hurdles of
broken self promises,
anguish and agony
of self defeating
errors of judgment,
as destined dreams are destroyed.

You live only
for the moment,
but in that moment
life looks like death,
as you take short cuts
to nowhere good.

You are a servant to no one,
but a slave to all
who would call you
to sacrifice everything,
with nothing to show for it,
but the revelation
you should have changed
direction long ago,
as you count out your
misery marking milestones.

The long way home
doesn't have to be.

It is much closer than you think,
if you turn around now.



Saturday, 17 June 2017

Burning Bright

I see your life
burning bright,
glow of God's Spirit
in you,
manifestly present
by His presence.

Encroaching darkness
does not dim
your brightness,
but adds
beautiful contrast
to your witness.

The lines are
clearly drawn.
There is no
mistaking now
those whose
walk witnesses
to the world
wonder and God's glory.

Some may not
understand or
want to see,
but the brightness
of His light
in you shines
for them anyway.

Your light beckons gently,
the safe space among
the world's ever
increasing injury,
as events so crammed
with trauma
drip feed despair
from every device.

So burn bright
and do not
dim your light
through choices made
without understanding
proper preparation,
and critical consequence.

Your one light life
can show the way
to multitudes,
if you allow yourself
to be perfectly positioned.

So keep burning bright.

Burn bright.

Burn bright.

Saturday, 10 June 2017

Devil's Wrath (Revelation 12:12)

"Therefore rejoice, O heavens, and you who dwell in them!
Woe to the inhabitants of the earth and the sea!
For the devil has come down to you, having great wrath,
because he knows his time is short."

Time is running out,
almost gone,
the devil's wrath,
sins last hurrah,
before our Savior's sighting.

The devil dumps
the final onslaught,
wrecking relationships,
ruining romance
between covenant beloved.

Sowing stress
and stretching beyond breaking point,
parental bonds with child.
Disrespecting venom
vomited out
on humanity,
regardless of creed or colour.
Kindred consumed with hatred
that is not their own.

Potent poisons
in plentiful supply,
unkindly offered
to drown more sorrows,
sourced from the accusers armory.

Rebellion first found in heaven
courses condemned
through Eden and beyond,
tempting humanity
to follow him into forever darkness.

The ready remedy
blood bought
with salvation sacrifice,
can be received right now,
but the eventual ending of evil
is yet to come.

But it will come,
and usher in a peace
and rest and joy,
so unimaginable as yet.
If we could glimpse catch it now,
we would never again wish
to align ourselves
with the devil's wrath.

Saturday, 3 June 2017

Rhythm Of Righteousness

There is a steady repetition
of righteousness,
a rhythm of grace
that counts out each day,
as the beat
of an eternal drum.

A conscious choice
of conscience,
not seeking dull religion,
but the extreme expression
of fully lived life,
day by day.

Each choice continues
to add
artwork strokes
currently unclear,
but when in time revealed,
will show the Artist's brilliance.

Unseen and
unapplauded actions
form faith foundations,
strong enough
to raise life's landscape,
disrupting devil's plans.

Each decision daily
determined on,
build walls of righteousness
unconquerable to outsiders,
that can only be betrayed
by the one within.

It is our hidden
thoughts
and unseen
actions
and unheard
words
that most need this
rhythm of righteousness,
and as we search for it
we will find
all our answers
in Him.






Saturday, 27 May 2017

False Doctrine

The enemy's intention
to separate God and man,
and mankind from each other.

Subtle turning of truth
to appear with authority,
but underneath
the usurping Edenic lies remain.

Hindering the Father's freedom
for His children,
glorious liberty constrained
by turgid tradition,
and aspiring arguments
sent to suffocate.

Contentions and
peace ripped harmony,
broken by bad behavior,
sanctioned by serpent cunning,
dishonoring close kindred,
and collapsing covenant.

Partial plausibility digs
false foundations in the heart,
tarnishing other truths
as they are filtered through.

There will come a day
when all false doctrine
with tears will be wiped away,
as we see God as He truly is,
and each other as we truly are.

Until then Lord
protect us from all that
would separate us,
from each other,
and from You.



Saturday, 20 May 2017

Undone Action

The undone action,
pending post,
floats through the consciousness,
as a dust mote
trans-versing a beam of light.

It is not regarded
yet ever present,
the detritus of dreams
and waking moments,
preventing peace.

The spirits of future events
refusing to be silenced,
drifting in on unrelated tides
to bump annoyingly on the mind's shore.

The undone action
can be of little consequence,
but night hours twist it out of shape
until it is a monstrous looming,
magnified behind its illuminated screen.

Daylight shows the impostor
for what it is and yet
it lurks at curtained edges,
waiting to charge to center stage.

Self talk verbal tick repeats itself,
the interchange continuing
without conclusion.

When at last
the undone action
becomes itself undone
by being done

it settles to the mists of memory,
but not before tag teaming
a similarity to take its place

renewing resistance
of peace's reign
within our fought for minds.

Saturday, 13 May 2017

Mother's Day Card

The Mother's Day card
strewn with stickers,
scrawled upon with
clenched fist strokes.

Pasted with glitter glue
and torn tissue paper.
Big bright red hearts,
crossed kisses and round hugs.

Excited presentation
of art
indiscernible
to all but the artist.
An elephant, duck, or tree
viewed with the eyes of faith.

The mismatched kisses
duly counted and received.

The glow of pride
as the masterpiece
is displayed for all to see.

Priceless treasure.
The tangible trophy
of a child's love.

The greatest of gifts.

The Mother's Day card.

Wednesday, 10 May 2017

Word Received 11.5.2017

Go in the power of My Strength
and do not become weary of doing good
and you shall receive a just reward.
Do not seek the praise of man
or the rewards that the world gives
for My Kingdom has a different currency
and the workers of My Kingdom
are given different wages.
Do not envy others achievements
but be faithful to what I have called
you to do as you labor in the vineyard.
Do not seek your reward elsewhere
but look to Me in all things, says the Lord.

Saturday, 6 May 2017

Hypothetical Faith

I want to try to bring
my ordered
hypothetical faith
into real life,
but sometimes it refuses to fit,
or even to comprehend
the mess it is surrounded by.

Neat arguments about
the do's and don'ts,
become undone
in the presence of fallen man.

I want to grasp faith fully
and forward step without faltering.

It sounds so simple,
yet a hundred jostling jibes
want to dissuade me,
suggesting I return another day.

Sometimes I feel like hypothetical salt
in a container whose lid cannot open,
in case some grains escape
into the community,
and cause havoc
with healing in the streets.

I look for Jesus
to wipe His feet
with my hypothetical tears,
but He is busy
about His Father's business,
and I realize afresh
so I should be.




Saturday, 29 April 2017

Lonely Road

It can be a lonely road
to do the right thing,
to be a blessing
when cursing is all around.

To do the good thing,
even the best thing,
when most are
settling for less.

To go the extra mile,
to have a caring heart,
when others linger
at the starting line.

To have the kind word,
and share it too,
to go
against the general flow.

To make your voice heard,
your opinion known,
to have a point of view
and not waver to and fro.

To change your course
to help another,
even when it costs
you more than your money.

It can be a lonely road
to do the right thing,
but the call is always there,
if we will do what we hear.

Saturday, 22 April 2017

Easter Baptism

For to me,
to live is Christ,
and to die is gain.

He stands with silted salt water
swirling around him.

I baptize you in the name of the Father,
the Son and the Holy Spirit.

He is immersed
in the ocean,
clinging cold with winter current.

Fiery red hair submerged
for a moment,
identifying with His Savior's death.

Rising again with a shout,
and resurrection reality
wrapping round.

The seal of the Spirit,
and heaven's glad witness
of this sight.

The sacred sacrament
encountered by multitudes
around the earth,
revisited this Easter Sunday.

Repent and be baptized
Jesus said.
Obedient observance
the only right response,
and so he did.

Saturday, 15 April 2017

Pause

An Easter art installation
draws me in.
Scores of white feathers
falling,
suspended in a spot light beam
by nylon thread.

Captured by imagination
as if frozen in time.
They descend each
on their own individual journey,
untouched by another.

One starts to spin slowly,
caught in an upward draft
caused by someone passing by.

Different feathers
turn
and
turn
again,
forbidden to fall
but designed for flight.

Beauty draws me in
and I do not want to leave them.
I pause
and become still
in my own silent space.

I know again the One
who loves me in all
my hurry and worldly cares.

The One who waits for me
to stop
and breathe
and say hello.

He is my treasure
and I am His,
but sometimes I forget
as the world presses in.

I am glad this art
has helped me take the time
at this great celebration of Easter
to remember what Christ has done,
to be deeply grateful,
and
to PAUSE.

Saturday, 8 April 2017

Unity


Unity
brings the impossible task
to achievable reach,
and blesses more than
one soul
on the way.

Unity
is strength in togetherness,
recognizing our differences,
but not retrenching in them.

Unity
is arriving at a place
of wisdom and strength,
where I can honor another
without losing myself.

The Trinity
in perfect unity,
shows us it is
eternally possible
and highly recommended.

The Lord's blessing
rests on those in unity.
His favor cannot settle
where division rules.

Unity
is a precious treasure
to be sought for,
and fought for,
and preserved by humble yielding hearts,
to our Maker
and each other
for the blessing of all.

Unity
touches the heart of God.


Saturday, 1 April 2017

First Love

I think about you all the time.
When I wake
I am already thinking about you.
When I sleep
You are my last conscious thought.

I replay the times we have together,
and I am there with you again,
in the midst of glorious life.

I repeat the words you have spoken to me,
and my mind embraces them afresh,
with joy and gratitude
that you are in my life.

I feel so safe when I am with you,
as if no darkness could touch me,
or anything go wrong with my day.

I find myself talking about you to others,
and catch myself smiling in the mirror.

My heart is full of you.
There is little space for other things.
Things that once seemed so important,
are sidelined and forgotten.

My heart is yours forever.

My Lord and Saviour.
May I never lose my first love for you.

Saturday, 25 March 2017

Prophecy

Prophecy.
The Word of God
touching the will of man.

Man's struggle to surrender
and God's given grace.

Words of hope
and promise,
waiting to be grasped
and carried towards birth.

Sometimes rejected
they fall to to the ground,
waiting in expectation
for others to receive them,
and redeem them as their own
in years to come.

Generational blessing
manifested,
by those who choose
to walk on God's safe paths,
goodness and protection,
not fettered,
but free to live the fullest life.

Word of God
and will of man
in co-operation,
vision seen to birth
and growing to bear fruit.

God's Word in prophecy
carrying infinite power,
touches our mortality,
and allows us
to hold eternity in our hearts.

Saturday, 18 March 2017

Furnace Fire

Furnace fire
from the throne room,
crossing onto
the threshold of earth.

Swirling around us
as we pray,
glimpsing God's
great glory and power.

Fire and whirlwind
combined encircling,
as His Holy Spirit
manifests miracles
in our midst.

Deep peace at the center
of the rushing flames,
wrapping in
manifest presence.

Deep delight
in revealed goodness,
healing free gift
by grace received.

Wonder and awe
at eternal majesty,
drawing near
to touch our frailty,
with so much love.

Saturday, 11 March 2017

Wide Eyed Grief

Wide eyed grief,
as silent and as still as death,
wraps my soul
in darkness.

I cannot comprehend
normal life,
and uncaring faces,
that glance but do not know
my journey.

Knife edged grief,
piercing and prodding
at inopportune moments,
causing complete crumpling
of my paper heart.

Eyes so tear blurred,
they cannot see
the carded words of comfort,
and must blink away
as worn out windscreen wipers,
accomplishing nothing.

Thick fogged thoughts
in a heavy head,
grapple with everyday chores,
ten times slower
and done without delight.

Heavy numbness
alternating erratically
with shooting pain.
The heart jostled
by crowded emotions,
unable to find
the space to breathe.

Regretted unspoken words,
and more so completed actions
that can no longer be undone,
linger as fellow mourners.

Death is always unwelcome
whatever the arrival time,
as it ushers in
this wide eyed grief.




Saturday, 4 March 2017

What Time Is It?

It is time to count
with the measurement
of eternity,
and not with the short trapped gaze
of this passing age.

It is time to lay up heaven treasure,
so that we do not
with wistful tears,
wonder what our lives
might have been.

It is time to go into the
harvest fields,
and with word yoked actions
pull forth
weight of blessing into other lives.

It is time to talk with those
whose grief edged loneliness
smothers them,
allowing their fragile formed words
space and time.

It is time to refuse to judge
when help is needed,
and to not wait for thanks,
knowing recompense
will come in other ways.

It is time to run the race,
to fight the good fight,
and to hear the well done,
when this time comes to an end.








Saturday, 25 February 2017

Don't Forget What Time It Is

Don't forget what time it is
when it's late at night,
and you seek selfish satisfaction
in the wrong places.

Don't forget what time it is,
and let careless pleasures
that do not build your life,
rob you of your days to come.

Don't forget what time it is,
and cause offence and trouble
in others lives so they
waste their days in bitterness.

Don't forget what time it is,
and let the enemy
rob you of your potential,
leaving you ashamed and broken.

Don't forget what time it is.
You have a destiny in God
that only you can fulfill
on the whole earth.

Don't forget what time it is,
that those around you are not told
the eternal destination changing
good news you already know.

Don't forget what time it is,
for we are appointed to live once
and then comes the judgement.
Don't forget what time it is.

Saturday, 18 February 2017

The Lane Continued

A full twelve months has passed
since we saw each other.
My black laced boots
rhythmically crush the deep white powder.

Ancient apple boughs
with winter burden bowed,
glimpse through icicle hung hedges.

This snowy lane is steeped
in memory.
We first kissed here,
and made private promises,
that did not withstand
his families different plans.

 A purposeful heavy tread,
magnified in the sparkling air,
draws closer.

I dare not look behind,
until strong hands
hold my shoulders,
and turn me towards
his enveloping embrace.

Words still unnecessary
as our eyes express
everything.

Hearts press together,
separated only
by heavy winter clothes,
and propriety.

Visible frosted breath
meets moments before our lips.
Our souls reconnected
and clinging closely in delight.

Covenant words of commitment
will soon be spoken
in others hearing
in ancient chapel.

But as for now
we are blissfully
alone in this lane,
and his words of love
are simply
whispered to me.

Saturday, 11 February 2017

The Lane

I saw you again
in the snow lined lane,
hedges thick with frost on ice,
bending boughs
cracking in the thin air.

I remember a time
when we were not
yet strangers.
We laughed at the same jokes,
and looked at each other
for signs of encouragement.

The awkward hug you gave me
did not convey
what you intended,
or what I wanted,
but it was the first time
we had touched for years.

Then there was that
fragile faltering farewell,
thick with
wanting to be spoken words,
that fell silently to the ground.

I found myself
waiting for something more,
wanting something more
from you,
than this unsatisfactory brief exchange.

We used to be so close
as souls that see
each other through
a sea of others.

I've walked the same lane since,
hoping a second sighting
would stir a different response.

But now Spring
has long since gone,
it seems you have retreated
to your so different world,
leaving me alone in mine.

Wednesday, 8 February 2017

Word Received 8.2.2017



Do not be only hearers of the Word but be doers also.
Manifest My Kingdom on earth by doing the works of My Kingdom.
Don’t just talk about it. Do it.
Heal the sick in My Name and do not doubt.
Cast out spirits and do not fear.
Use the authority I have given you to defeat the powers of darkness
in people’s lives and in places that would keep people in captivity.
Do not be conformed to this present age but transform it 
by the power of My Spirit, says the Lord.

Saturday, 4 February 2017

Failure

We do not like to fail
and yet we do.
All of us to a degree,
some more honest about it
than others.

Some find the failure
attracts their continued attention,
others dig deep burial pits
to hide their failures in.

It is a common past time for mankind.
We fail often
and sometimes seem stubborn
to learn from the simplest of lessons,
returning anew
to the place of our failure,
with a winsome wish
that this time it will be different.

Of course it is not
and failure becomes our friend,
the only one
we can truly rely on
to turn up,
as we try to forge forward.

Failure seems to choose us
as if we had won
some sick life lottery,
that is stacked against to us to ever succeed.

A history of failure
becomes a future of failure,
as night follows day,
although the days are very short
and the nights unreasonably long.

Does this pitiful pattern have to persist
or can we somehow be free?

There is One who is faithful to
forgive me of all my failures
and show me a different way.

If only I can agree to receive
this forgiveness,
extend it to others,
and learn to forgive
myself
when I fail.


Saturday, 28 January 2017

Soundtrack

Heady youthful years
when we lived
beyond our fears
lost in the soundtrack of our lives.

It returns to stir us
in later life.
Tuneful memories
linked to
exhilaration or emotional pain,
love found and lost.
Long days and nights out,
inhabited by the cast
of our former selves.

One ling of a song,
four bars of music,
and we are transported back.
It is as close to time travel
as we will ever get.

Fully alive,
raw and rough
around the edges.
Musical history
that does not exist in museums,
but only in our minds,
as each one keeps a
soundtrack of their lives.

Saturday, 21 January 2017

Begin Again

When life has
stacked its circumstances
against you
so insurmountably high
that you can't see anything beyond
begin again.

When disappointment
has rubbed rough salt
into your former wounds
so that you wince
from the pressure of invisible pain
begin again.

When discouragement
has removed the mat
from under you
and the floor
and left you sprawled on hard dry dirt
begin again.

When the vision
that burned beacon bright
has dimmed
to dull intermittent glow
begin again.

When your spirit
aches for even
a drop of living water
to ease the torment of desert thirst within
begin again.

Nothing is beyond you.
No dream, vision or plan
now dropped or discarded
is truly dead,
if only you can find the courage to
begin again.

Saturday, 14 January 2017

Enemy

My enemy drops
words of hatred,
sinking lead weighted
into my soul,
ready to be hooked up
into my conscious thoughts
at a moments notice.

Left long enough
not dealt with,
their toxicity spreads
its poison,
and the diseased seeds
unnaturally spring
forth new and bitter growth.

The cruel words spoken to me
are spewed from a churning pit
of fear and pain,
entrenched by years
of practiced unforgiveness.

There is no sign of compassion,
grace and mercy
that marks humanities restoration
towards original intention.

Instead the broken and scarred outworking
of sin,
left unchecked
to run its violent course.

My response if undisciplined
is judgement and contempt,
but I try to tread a different path.

My heavenly Father
bids me that I would become like Him,
and bless those who curse me,
and pray for those
who spitefully use me.

I choose to do this
not because it is easy,
but knowing if I don't,
my face will reflect my enemies
and my heart turn out the same.

Saturday, 7 January 2017

Teen Party

Some were drunk before they got there.
Others arrived
with an ammunition of alcohol,
enough to take down an army.

She clutched her one drink
with wide eyes,
watching the others
staggering and slurring
around her,
oblivious to her sobriety
and lack of peace.

She willed away the hours,
hoping her handsome hero
would arrive
and notice her.

He did arrive
on the arm of another,
and she cast
downward eyes.

Something kept her there.
The hero had smiled,
and his smile had glued her
to the ground,
unable to walk away.

He looked at her again.
Her resistance melted,
she was his for the taking.

He moved towards her,
and the palest blue of his eyes
suddenly seemed cold.

She felt darkness press against her,
and stepped backwards,
feeling the familiarity
of the wallpaper pattern
with her outstretched palms.

Good to see you,
he said with thick sweet breath.
She turned her head
so his lips collided with her cheek.

With acrobatic agility
she extracted herself
from the moral conundrum,
and fled from the party
to return safely home
to her bed.


Saturday, 31 December 2016

New Year's Day

So the year begins again.
Last year wiped away
with all its highs and lows.

Births, weddings and funerals
counted out.
Statistics to some;
great wonder, joyous celebration or deep tragedy
to others.

Successes and failures
surfacing in the melting pot of life,
to be scooped off
and observed temporarily.

Trophies placed on shelves to gather dust.
Pain and disappointment
compartmentalized
by coping mechanisms.

Jobs gained and lost.
Friendships found and faltered.
Books read
and movies watched.

Snippets of significant conversations
lodged with vivid memories.
Thousands of others
wrapped in forgetful fog.

Goals accomplished.
Some still pending.
Dreams fulfilled
or badly broken.

Last year was full of these things.
Each year is,
and always will be
until the end of this world.

We only truly understand another's journey
when we have been touched by life in the same way.

Yet let us be there for each other,
even in our part understanding,
as this New Year is ushered in.

Let us trust the One
who gives us such
a grace filled opportunity

to see a New Year in again.

Saturday, 24 December 2016

What to give at Christmas

What shall I give at Christmas?
What do my loved ones need?

They need me to be close,
and if distance separates us,
to know that my love reaches them there.

They need me to hug them,
more than once,
to feel safe
and that all will be well.

They need me to tell them
I love them,
not when I want,
but when they need to hear
those words of life and blessing.

They need me to slow down
long enough,
so I am not just a blur
at their visions edge,
but vitally present and real.

They need me to listen
to tales of favourite things,
and oft told stories
enriched by the telling.

They need me to laugh
at their jokes,
affirm what they share,
and smile with true understanding.

Most of all they need me to
reflect to them
the unconditional love, grace and mercy
I receive from my heavenly Saviour,
whose birth we remember this Christmas Day.

Saturday, 17 December 2016

Last Chance to Buy

Last chance to buy
extravagant fragrances
soaked in celebrity culture.

Christ cut out
of Christmas
with satanic surgical skill.

Unwanted presents
passing back and forth,
to be re-gifted,
or donated shortly
to grateful charity shops.

Confectionery bulging
over the ends
of every aisle.

Supermarkets consumed
with sweet stuff,
cleverly packaged
to show the serving
in a more generous light.

Shoppers struggling
for car parks and trolleys,
festive jingles
ringing repeatedly
in their ears.

Inflatable Santas
sitting crookedly
on top of shelving,
sagging with slow deflation.

Traffic jams
in sleepy side streets,
as harried parents
stuff stockings
which get bigger every year.

The epoch of materialism
is at its zenith,
showing no signs
of waning,
except when natural disaster
or sabotage
brings commerce to a temporary halt.

Last chance to buy

Last chance to buy

Last chance to buy


before the Boxing Day sales.







Sunday, 11 December 2016

Word Received for New Zealand 27.10.2016

I am making of you a mighty nation
and a mighty people group who will
shake the earth by the power of My Spirit.
The time of My power has come
and My people have made themselves ready
to be clothed in My power and to walk in it without harm.
Heal the sick, raise the dead, drive out demons.
Demonstrate to an unbelieving world that My Kingdom
is indeed at hand for those with eyes to see.
Rise up in the knowledge of who you are as sons
and daughters of the King and stand steadfastly
in the battle.
You will see the powers of darkness overturned
in a greater way than ever before.
My Spirit in you will accomplish these things.
It is not of the flesh so no one can boast.
I will be exalted in this day says the Lord of hosts.

Saturday, 10 December 2016

Handel's Messiah

Brooding expectation in tuning violins.
Audience anticipation of familiar joy
from music touched by genius.

The Conductor's careful control
with back to the audience,
but fully present
with orchestra and choir,
as they navigate melodies
striving for perfection.

The singers perfectly positioned
as each voice carries
clearly to eager ears.

Peace fueled delight
wrapped in Isaiah's comfort,
and John the Baptist's resounding cry,
beheading not silencing his words of life.

The Glory of the Lord shall be revealed
and all flesh shall see it together.
Sweet clear voices and deeper resonance
join in sublime harmony.

Voices chime out in peals of praise.
Manuscripts clasped in fervent hands,
each one in rapt attention
to the finely polished score.

Divine inspiration within Handel's mind.
God's Word wrapped in glorious tuneful form.

Unto us a Child is born.
Unto us a Son is given.
He shall be called Wonderful.
Full throated proclamation pours forth,
lifting spirits and warming hearts
with satisfying Truth.

God's glory manifest in crafted chorus
and the trumpets shrill cry,
a journey through the Messiah's life.

And He shall reign for ever and ever.

Long after the concert goers
wend they way home
with satisfied hearts and minds,
and alleluias rising from their lips.

Saturday, 3 December 2016

Suspended In Starlight

Light filled beings
suspended in starlight.
Seraphim spinning
with delirious joy.

Cherubim's choral shout.
Warrior winged Creatures
coming close to Earth,
as on Creation's celebration.

Heaven's Hosannas.
Anthems echoing out
into vastness,
made by the Mighty One.

Psalms of eternal praise,
heard by mortal flesh and blood,
as the Incarnate One
comes forth in Virgin Birth.

Wrapped as a treasure.
Seen by men and angels.
Sent by His Father,
to save Mankind.

Saturday, 26 November 2016

Don't Judge Me

Don't judge me for my height
the cut of my clothes
the size of my head
or the length of my nose.

Don't judge me for the shade of my skin
the place of my birth
the weight of my form
or the size of my girth.

Don't judge me for the speed of my mind
or my last school report
the way I say things
or the disease that I caught.

Don't judge me for the money I have
or the money I've squandered
the area I call home
or the places I've wandered.

Don't judge me for my lack of respect
or the way I treat others
the bad language I use
or the crimes of my brothers.

Don't judge me for not knowing better
or for getting it wrong
for despairing of life
or for not coming along.

Don't judge me
but help me
for I need you to see
I'm too precious to judge

God's love isn't just for you
God's love is for me.

Saturday, 19 November 2016

Truly Heard

Someone tries to see
into your soul,
but you stop them
at the door,
unwilling to share
your treasured thoughts.

Is it that you
do not
trust them
to hear?

Instead you make small talk
skirting around the edges
of issues important.

Still reluctant
to show strength of feeling
in case an apathetic answer
arrests your enthusiasm,
and you feel the subtle slap
caused by careless listening.

You do not want
your precious pearls
to drop into the dust
to be trampled.

So you wait
with each pearl firmly clasped,
until you find another
who will give you time.

It is said
that being truly heard
is so close
to being truly loved
most of us
cannot tell the difference.

You have not yet spoken
all that is in your heart.
I pray one day when you do,
you will be truly heard.

Saturday, 12 November 2016

Restless Minds

Restless minds
skipping through thoughts
as stones skimmed on a river in flood,
heavy with expectation
delivering rain drop
cargoes in constant cycles.

So many rain drops
making up those rivers of thought,
that ebb and flow
between our consciousness
and unconsciousness,

delivering urgent memories
and bulging trivia,

thousands of images
seen and heard daily,

recorded, sorted, and filed
in the distracted recesses of our overloaded minds.

We are trapped in the revolving repetition
of our far too busy lives,
struggling to slow down long enough
to even see the flowers,
let alone smell them.

We seek restoration and renewal
in visions that drain
and do not edify.

They suck our souls southwards,
into lands of troubled thoughts,
and triggering temptations that cannot lead to life.

We must still our restless minds
before we miss the Truth,
and are overcome by lies.

Wednesday, 9 November 2016

Word Received 27.10.2016

Covenant yourself to Me in this time and be faithful
to My Word and My Spirit above all else.
Covenant yourselves to Me and do not let the enemy 
separate you from each other or from Me 
and My purposes in your lives.
Do not let the enemy fragment you
but stand united as one body and one bride
looking expectantly for the bridegroom.
Do not allow divisions between you to rob you
of Kingdom power and authority that comes
from the place of unity in My Spirit.
Track back to where division came in
and allow Me to restore what has been
broken in times past.
I desire one people who are called
by My name, says the Lord.

Saturday, 5 November 2016

Unforgiving

I will never forgive that person,
for what they have done to me,
the things they said
the things they did
no, I will never forgive them you see.

I will take this big jug of poison,
and drink its very last drop,
it's label reads
unforgiving,
it's power is to make my enemies life stop.

They deserve to have all my hatred,
and venom and censure too,
I will spread abroad
to all I know,
how incredibly unpleasant they grew.

I'll be lifted up before others,
and all will see I am right,
and if they don't
I'll reject them too,
until soon all of them will feel my bite.

Myself I will choose isolation,
to stop it happening more,
others are fools
you can't trust them,
or even let them back in through the door.

I think it is better to attack,
before others get their chance,
I'll be unkind
I'll be so mean,
and invite others to this same horrid dance.

My enemy has tried to approach,
say sorry and make things right,
they offer peace
I'm not willing,
so all I will answer is that I might.

But I choose to remain unyielding,
it seems much better this way,
and although I
do not have friends,
I choose to stay unforgiving today.

Saturday, 29 October 2016

Meditation on Isaiah 30 verse 15

For thus says the Lord God, the Holy One of Israel.
"In returning and rest you shall be saved.
In quietness and confidence shall be your strength."

Can I be quiet
so that voices of the past
no longer haunt me,
and cries of the future
no longer tempt me into striving?

Can I be quiet
not from shame or sadness,
but from the deepest joy
that I can know a lasting peace,
in the pieces of myself
that still call for war?

Can I be quiet
in my spirit,
so that I hear His Spirit
more clearly
than my wrestling restlessness?

Can I be quiet
so that time and eternity
trade places momentarily,
and I hear the hush of heaven
as it waits for revelation
to settle in my soul?

Can I rest
not heeding the hurried rush
of future days,
that would stretch my spirit
out of shape,
and leave me with
a dull headache of discontent?

Can I return to the One
who found me
and saved me
from my worst intentions,
and showed me a way more wonderful
than any of my own imaginings?

Can I have the confidence
of truly knowing who I am,
and who He is,
and how a door of reconciliation,
so beautiful but bloodied,
has been made
so I never need to be alone?

Saturday, 22 October 2016

Radical Inclusion

To be radical
has become something to be feared.

Too much.
Too intense.
Too overwhelming
for the niceties of society,
which desires moderation
in all things,
except personal satisfaction and sinful pleasure.

To be radically inclusive,
to do away with 'us' and 'them' forever
is a shocking idea,
for it is in the very 'us' and 'them'
that we find our frail identity.

We belong to this group, this organisation, this culture
safely.
We are not like them with all their obvious differences.

We feel secure
with those who talk and think and look the same as us.

We are inwardly disturbed
when people violate our norm.

Jesus,
the ultimate radical,
was loved and hated for it.

He welcomed the oppressed and the oppressor,
and didn't make them sit
in designated groups.

He was present,
available to all
who would walk out of their fear,
religious leader under cover of darkness,
or prostitute openly wiping His feet with her hair.

He calls for radical inclusion
from those who would follow Him.
That none would be turned away
from seeking His Truth.

He so loved the world.

Radical

Inclusion.

We should do the same.

Saturday, 15 October 2016

Belonging

Do we need to keep playing pretend,
with assumptions
received by head
but not by heart?

Do we need to keep doing
the right things for the wrong reasons,
trapped by expectations
to fulfill religious obligation?

Theory theology,
safely disconnected from life,
in case any sparks of faith
might set alight
a gospel glow
so unpretentious
Jesus would enjoy it.

We stick with opinions
bitterly fought for,
rather than beliefs
written with
love stained ink
on hearts honest and raw,
longing for grace and truth.

Truth truer than true
can only be found
away from practiced performance
of religious rite.

This is relationship reality,
sons and daughters
belonging to our Father,
co heirs with Christ.

No higher purpose or agenda
than belonging
in eternal family.

The beginning and the end
of the journey,
the Father's love for us.

If only we would receive it,
and turn forever
towards belonging.

Saturday, 8 October 2016

The Edge of our Unknowing

I find myself
at the edge of my unknowing,
contemplating whether to draw back
or to take a wobbly step of faith,
because the leap
seems way too hard
at the moment.

I like the idea
that Jesus stands
a little to the side of
the edge of our unknowing,
willing us to see
how wonderful the waves are close up,
if only we would get out
of our small but stable boats.

The edge of our unknowing
is not a place
you want to wait,
for it is crowded
with the curious but apathetic.

They stay long enough
to catch a glimpse of what exists
outside their comfort zone,
and turn their backs again
on mystery and wonder.

If it is something
I can't easily explain or rationalize,
does that mean
that it is definitely not of God
or that it definitely is?

Too many of us
are fearful of knocks to prideful self
or lowering of social standing,
to risk the journey
to where our understanding
becomes of limited use,
and we have to
trust Someone else
beyond the edge of our unknowing.

Saturday, 1 October 2016

Slow burning faith

Slow burning faith
that keeps the glowing spark alight,
and clings to the Spirit breathed promise
through years of frustration,
and yet to be seen fulfillment.

Slow burning faith
that remains in the prayer room,
when disappointment
and disillusionment
have all but cleared it
to silence.

Slow burning faith
that holds on
against impossible odds,
believing for a miracle
that appears to be permanently
lost in the post.

Slow burning faith
that knows the trustworthiness
of the Sender,
and expects the promise will arrive as perfectly created
as when it was first mentioned.

Slow burning faith
that is willing to keep the fuse lit
for decades if necessary,
before the miracle explosion
changes the life landscape forever.

So don't let doubters quench with their query's,
don't become weary with waiting,
too tired to try anymore.

Fan the tiny flame.

Wait for the answer
that will blow all
unbelief to hell.

Raise another standard
to God's faithfulness,
and to miracles
that come to those
with slow burning faith.




Saturday, 24 September 2016

Set up to win

If the Kingdom
is a family business,
why so often
do we not support each other?

We look with resentment
at another's field of favor,
ruing their blessing
as if it brings us loss.

We should set
each other up to win,
delighting in victory.
Not comparing
the spacious sweep of our field,
seen smaller through eye's envying
another's better blessings.

Our heavenly Father's
gracious gifts
do not finitely finish,
and when one does well
another does not go without.

Our words carry
life and death,
to encourage or discourage
that is indeed the question
we should ask ourselves.

Do not hoard up your blessing
when it greets you,
but let it continue to flow
its way to others too,
or your joy will silently suffocate
and gratitude be forgotten.

Let us reach out our hands
to those sinking in stinking mud,
and not watch them
with deliberating judgement as they fail.

Let us be faithful
in the fruitful fields of the Father,
and set each other up to win.

Saturday, 17 September 2016

Grit

I have heard
it is good to possess grit.

Can it truly be found
outside a western,
inhabited by men
toughened by tragedy?

As a daughter of the King
can I have grit?

To persevere when all seems lost,
to have a stubborn spirituality
that will not take
the world's no for an answer

but continues to wrestle
until first light,
even if I do
walk away with a limp.

There is indeed an excess
of moderation
in the modern world.

A desire for loose liberty
without the safety cordons
of judgement and truth.

The world is having
an identity crisis,
but refuses therapy
denying it has a problem.

Grit is a determination
to see the truth break through
the stubbornness of lying barricades.

It will not stop
until the final whistle blows,
the trumpet has sounded,
and all is truly seen
as it really is.

Lord may I possess grit
in these darkening days.

Saturday, 10 September 2016

Don't stay in the hallway

When you find yourself in a hallway
of confusion,
misunderstanding,
unclear vision,
or disappointment,
do not linger too long.

Consider the hallway
not a cause for consternation,
but a choice to co-operate
with a forward call.

Do not over speak with others
why you think you are in the hallway.

Others have their reasons
for being there too,
but the over told tale
can fuel
your trembling heart's
desire for reassurance

so you forget
to seek solution
from the Author
of your answers.


Don't make your home in the hallway.
It is not meant to be
your permanent address
but a moment
on your destination journey.

Don't stay in the hallway

but go on wards

to the gateway

God has ready for you.



Saturday, 3 September 2016

Father's Day

The pain
we feel when
things are not going well
for our child
is
a tiny glimpse
of the Father heart of God
for us

when we

choose

what is not
the very best
for our lives.

He is sad

not an angry sad
or a disappointed sad
or a frustrated sad
but

a sad so wrapped in
intense
unconditional
everlasting
love

that when we catch
a glimpse
it brings us
to our knees

and

into the warm again embrace
of the

ever present

Father

of us all.

Saturday, 27 August 2016

Meditation on Psalm 32 verse 7

"You are my hiding place.
  You shall preserve me from trouble;
  You shall surround me with songs of deliverance."


Singing not fighting
is the order of the day
when trouble comes near
to keep it away.

It may sound odd
to start singing a song
and not take a weapon
to make you feel strong.

The power of the singing
is not yet understood
by those who don't see
that the Lord means them good.

But now I will choose
to listen to the sound
for it will bring me back
to His solid ground.

The Lord sings aloud
and He calms my anxious heart
all I need is to choose faith
that is my part.

I choose to believe
what He says and He sings
as He lifts me up
on deliverance wings.

He will keep me from troubles
and if I find myself there
He will hide me securely
in the place of His care.

Saturday, 20 August 2016

Petrified Words

Words become petrified
under layers

of misuse,

misunderstanding,

half-hearted belief,

and double minded talk.

Words that carried

power

and

authority

robbed and
left for dead.

Words once

loved

and

cherished

with holy zeal and passion
put aside,
memorial markers
of what was very good.

The Word became flesh
and full of

grace

and

truth

lived among us.

His name now
used as a curse
on unloving tongues.

Words lie dormant
until we stir them
again in our hearts.

Take these petrified words
and break them
out of that which
hinders freedom.

The Word became

flesh

and

lived

among us.
He still does.

Let His words live again in you.

Saturday, 13 August 2016

Kiwi Ball

Sequins sparkle,
fairy lights shine strung in streamers of iridescent light,
bright turquoise table cloths scattered with glistening glass,
reflecting tea light glow.

Young men almost unrecognizable
scrubbed up
and standing awkwardly
in their imprisoning suits.

Necks have ties,
and smart trousers
replace shorts and jandals.
Dress shoes foreign to the feet that wear them
make their annual appearance.

They stand in clumps
secretly glad
that they blend seamlessly with their peers,
not overdressed or under
for that would be disastrous.

Suspended lanterns float above the dance floor
still pools of tranquility above the noise.
Meters of taffeta and silk
sway to the music,
colors through the beauty palette
shimmer in the half light.

Hair curled, twisted and set to perfection,
nail polish and make up applied
with professional precision,
ready for the photos
and admiration of others.

The young ladies want to stand out,
each individual dress pleasingly admired.
High heel shoes paraded in,
are later cast aside.

Familiar music
brings murmurs of appreciation.
Everyone knows the lyrics
to their generation's songs.

The supper
presented with style,
is set upon
gratefully.

Parents flock
late in the evening,
to retrieve their loved ones
safely to their homes.

This world is full of wonder and beauty,
joy and excitement,
the harder things of life
completely forgotten
for these few precious hours.





Saturday, 6 August 2016

Letter to a terrorist

I do not know
what you hope to achieve
by what you do.

How can you create anything
except more sadness, loss, grieving and despair.

I do not understand
what fruit can grow on trees
so laden with pain and hate.

I cannot see the merit
in laying down your life,
not for others
but to take as many as you can
with you into the terrible jaws of death;
to be swallowed up
on the evening news,
and then forgotten about in a few weeks time
by all but the loved ones of those lost.

I cannot grasp
your short term goals,
your long term goals,
your hopes for the future
when they seem darkly shrouded
even from your sight.

I see the figure
of a elderly French priest
kneeling in his church
whispering Father forgive them
for they know not what they do.

I do not fathom
how acts of horror and destruction
can seem by rapid repetition
commonplace and familiar.

It is beyond me
to comprehend your actions.
I see another person
made in the image of God
intended to live life in all its fullness.

A fellow human being
somehow fractured,
striving by any means
to bring death on earth.

Saturday, 30 July 2016

Grace in the time of train strikes

Very nice Nice
should have been
instead sadness
shrouded by mourning
lives lost
to mad tragedy.
Grief's solemn stretch
scattered with so much remembrance.

French Nice to Italian Genoa
should of been simple
instead adventure
of a national rail strike.
No trains into Italy
except one leaving shortly.

Emergency plan ensued
fastest pack ever
hotel to station
a furious run
luggage flying
out of any thieves reach.

First train grasped
gasping for breath.
Chaos in Genoa.
Confused travelers
snaked seeking information.
Departure boards
signaled wide spread disruption.
A cheery recording repeating
sorry for the inconvenience.

A patient official
seemed genuinely surprised
our next train
was scheduled still
floating alone
in a cancellation sea.

Our time by the glorious coast
beckoned us
as we traveled onward
into night fall
by the grace of God.

Saturday, 23 July 2016

Provence

Out of the palest of mid summer skies
the sun strikes on unyielding limestone.
Powder white dust
coats my black sandals.

Iconic lavender tumbles from every corner,
baking gloriously,
it's fragrance generous and hopeful.

Hill clung villages
on bleached crags,
perch above
chorus patchworks
of vineyard and olive groves.

Shimmering beauty
dares you to look from
precarious castle towers
to the dizzying depths
of vast plateau.

Crafted collectable treasures
beckon from tightly woven shops
along jostled streets.

Cool vaulted churches
with garishly painted saints
and votive candles
flickering their coin paid intercession.

Trunks of tangled olive trees
force their way through hard earth,
quiet observers of rich history.

Blessed Provence,
treasured place
of God and man's creation.

Saturday, 16 July 2016

Historic Stately Houses

Hot Ham stone
centuries weathered,
pale colonies of miniature lichen,
bruised edges and chipped walls.
Towering chimneys like twisted marshmallows
preside over countless windows
staring at history past.

Lovingly reconstructed gardens
burst with measured English beauty,
wild nature captivated
by orderly minds.
Flower beds, vegetable gardens and old orchards
weighing generously with harvest expectation.

The cool interiors
and ancient oak staircases,
climbing upwards with so
many silent stories to tell.

Servants and masters
intrigue and passion
love and brokenness
moved in these majestic rooms.

Dusty rich tapestries
muffle footstep sounds
on thick planked floors.
Uneven flagstones
near the gaping hearths,
smooth and familiar.

May all be blessed
who seek to preserve the precious past
for future joy,
so we can glimpse
back in time
to those who were not so very different,
staring out at us
caught in heavy gilded frames.

Saturday, 9 July 2016

The Great British Summer

I was asked to bring
some sunshine from New Zealand
because of the blessed abundance
of that fair land.

I found myself
unable to persuade
the Sun to leave
the Long White Cloud
and customs would have proved difficult.

The cold caught me by surprise
coming from a mild and bright midwinter.
I crashed headlong into the biting chill
of a British summer,
borrowing jumpers and jackets
and considering gloves.

Wishing the Sun would remember
where this fine spread of land lies
underneath the clouds and gloom.

The wind whips around
flattening the fragrant flowers,
trying to put on a brave show
in this inclemency.

The supermarket banners proclaiming
the Great British Summer
laced with unintentional heavy irony.

Central heating heaves
into unseasonable action
and we scan the sky for blue.
Next time I will pack some sunshine
and go through customs "Something to declare".


Saturday, 2 July 2016

Find your voice

The thought police
have struck again.
Intimidation wraps
its suffocating bands
around those who
would consider
something
different
from the
forced philosophies
expressed at every turn
during a total fire ban
on free speech.

Moderate, conservative,
family friendly, upstanding.
Words of former generations
respected now reviled
and increasingly linked
with hate crimes.

Biblical world views
once the revered bedrock
of Western Civilisation
have been more than discarded.
They are attacked, shredded,
as intolerant and unacceptable.

How has what was known as good
become so vilified?
How has what was known as evil
become so praised?

Am I guilty of remaining silent
when I should be speaking?
Is there still time to speak?

Do I need at this late hour
to clear my throat
and begin to say what I believe
rather than being silenced by fear
of what might happen to me?

I cannot go into all the world
and make disciples
if I do not speak.

God give me courage to find my voice.

Saturday, 25 June 2016

In Flight

Apple juice
and sore knees,
drifting sleep
and mild turbulence,
plastic wrapped food
on slippery trays.

Delays on the tarmac,
waiting in queues,
snatched conversations,
and a little girl Ava
hugging my leg.

Icy blasts of
cruel air conditioning
tempered by lurid blankets,
and miniature pillows.

Complimentary papers
and bland magazines,
movies to be watched,
willing time to be stolen,
day and night chasing
us right around the globe.

Genuine time travel
and body clock confusion,
desperately willing the destination to arrive.

Joy and thanksgiving
at every safe touchdown.
Understanding the privilege of
God's revelation and
miracle engineering,
may I never take for granted
this long distance flight.

Saturday, 18 June 2016

Fire Fall

Holy Spirit incendiary
flame tongued
wind ripped
structure shaking
life changing
outpouring.

Extraordinary manifesting
in ordinary people.
Not intoxication
but liberation
into Spirit language
and power.

Minds blown.
Gospel sown.
Radical boldness.
Huge harvest.

Willing souls
drawn towards
personal salvation granted,
eternal life gifted,
and joy enabled for evermore.

Saturday, 11 June 2016

Identity Thief

Am I a boy or a girl?
My school says I can somehow choose,
although it does look plain to me.

I wonder why the adults are talking so.
It seems as if they should be joking
when they say such things,
but their faces are straight and serious.

I wonder if they will
let me choose next year
which animal I would like to become.
Surely now I can choose anything
and everyone will have to agree.

I think I would like to be a cat.
I will move around on all fours,
dress all in black,
and lick cream from a saucer.

I will still be able to sleep on my bed
(my parents will be pleased),
but curled up at the bottom
as do the rest of my kind.

Perhaps when I am older
I will choose to become some other animal.
Maybe a horse because they are strong
and can gallop quickly away
from things that trouble them.

My teacher has given me a form to tick.
Do I feel like I am a boy or a girl?
I shall not tick either.
I will write I think I am a cat
and see what she does next.

Saturday, 4 June 2016

New Age

A new age is here,
a madness epidemic
sweeping the sphere
seemingly unstoppable.

Illogical lies
are neatly wrapped
in double think,
and sold as brave new truth
around the globe.

Ancient falsehoods
hewn from the pits of hell,
repackaged as enlightened scientific fact
about our origins.

Higher education
forces focused young minds
to submit to the extreme corruption
of intelligent thought,
and willful rebellion against the Creator.

Male and female(as obvious reality)
no longer exists,
the plain truth
ripped and scattered
as fragments in the wind,
able only to be gathered
by the most determined souls.

Practitioners peddle their particular healing,
promising by pressing your head
to unlock up to 10,000 years of pain.

The world has left its senses by the door
and has gone into a particularly nasty storm,
of buffeting winds of nonsense,
and thick darkness that fuels despair.

God do not leave us in this place.
In your great love
bring your light
and your truth
back into
this bad new age.

Saturday, 28 May 2016

Doppelganger

It is a strange equilibrium
and universal continuum
that you and I
are each unique.

It would be a curious improbability
if a doppelganger existed,
a double walker,
a living counterpart of ourselves.

Someone with whom you could trade places
without anyone else being aware.

What if you could leave your life
in the hands of another,
depart your present space
with no one missing you?

A curiosity indeed,
but fraught with the difficulty
that is humanity.
What if my double
pretending to be me,
were not willing
to hand back the reins
at the appointed time?

What if they thought they were
doing a better job at being me,
and were not content to walk away from my life?

It is foolishness to wish away our life to someone else,
for no other can fully master the quintessence that is you.

We should not abdicate
but embrace our own life,
be faithful to the calling
that is ours alone.

We are unique in this universe.
There is no one like us.
Rejoice in it,
for God has made it so.

Saturday, 21 May 2016

Dreams of Phoenix

Twelve weeks old
I hold you in my arms
and wonder on your dreams,
almost everything as yet undone,
the very early moments of your life.

What do you dream about little man
that causes your face to look so,
your arms to fling out
your body to stretch
as if preparing for a race?

Do you run over sand
or over meadows?
Does the moon or sunlight guide your way?
Do extraordinary animals or winged creatures
inhabit your dreamscape,
inhabitants of this world or the next?

Do you talk in your dreams
when your perfect forehead furrows,
and your mouth moves in whispered thoughts?

Are your dreams full of others,
or do you explore your wondrous world alone?

I can only imagine
the answers,
for when you are old enough
to tell me in words I comprehend,
the dreams of your first beginning days
will be forever lost to mystery and wonder
for those who hold you
with safe and cradled arms
while you sleep.

Saturday, 14 May 2016

Choral Masterpieces

Burnished wood of violin,
cello and paler double bass,
reflect the spot light beams.
Gentleman and ladies stand
dressed in black and white,
with crisp pressed shirts,
and polished shoes.

We spend the evening
with five fine men,
long gone but not forgotten.
Handel, Mozart, Dubois,
Faure and Puccini.
Their gifted legacies
of deep talent and harder work.

One piece by Mozart at thirteen
spilling forth complex symphony
as if singing childhood rhymes.

The singers fix in concentration,
flick pages and form perfect oval
mouths as joyous words
flow out in strength.

Praise of God goes forth
joining with seraphim and cherubim
and those whose sang
these same words of truth
throughout the ages.

Violin bows dance and swing
across the strings,
fingers flying over frets,
forming perfect sounds by gifting honed.

The skilful rise and fall
of the Conductor's hands,
full of intricate command
to those who understand.

I close my eyes,
and memories flood
of places I have heard these sounds before.
Hot scented French summer days,
and cool aired towering cathedrals
where organ music flies.

Applause brings me back
to where I am;
seat I14 mid row
among these choral masterpieces.

Wednesday, 11 May 2016

Word Received 10.5.2016

Look and see My salvation
that is coming across the earth.
Do not be unbelieving
but believe all things are possible
in and through Me.
Lift up your eyes and do not
be burdened by your own issues
but look to Me for the answer to them.
There is not time to be tangled
up with things that do not matter in eternity.
Look to Me and see My salvation
come to those who are around you.
I am able and I am willing
to save all in these days.

Saturday, 7 May 2016

Who looks after Mothers?

Who looks after Mothers
when they fall and scrape their knee,
when life is hard,
and friends unkind.
When the project they
are working on
doesn't go well,
and the jigsaw pieces
refuse to behave.

Who looks after Mothers
when they need a warm hug
and a friendly kiss.
A blessing softly spoken,
and today's troubles
eased by listening ears.

Who looks after Mothers
when all the world is against them,
and they need a faithful ally
who will listen
to their version of events,
and choose to believe
it wasn't all their fault.
Who wraps protective arms,
and calls forth encouragement
and purposed destiny
in the quivering heart.

Who looks after Mothers
when they just need to be held,
and told as many times as it takes
that all will be well.
Until the heaving sobs
settle with the peace of reassurance,
and a new stride
can be measured forth.

Who looks after Mothers
when all is lost,
and grief is too much to bear.
When a beloved is laid to rest
under stones and fading flowers.
When no words should be spoken,
but only hands held,
and eyes locked with understanding
that this terrible pain too will pass.

Who looks after Mothers?
They are all around you
needing to be loved,
cherished, understood,
and comforted.

So
please
look
after
Mothers.


Saturday, 30 April 2016

Truth

Truth is beaten down
by naysayers and die hard critics.
Cynicism is the new cool,
cursing it's language.

Truth is sidelined
as unimportant and irrelevant,
too old fashioned for words,
laughable even.

Truth is how you see it,
and you and I see it
so very differently.
We can all be right
in this age
of conformity to nonsensical logic.

Truth is changing.
Of course it is.
All good things mutate over time
as the precise facts of the evolution theory
put it.

We will create a new truth
that will last forever,
with a few parts of the old
for the sake of continuity.

Truth is guarded
by a fanatical few
with a Book revered
and stories told
of a Man who said he was Truth.

Truth has been silenced,
all in allegiance killed.
It will not be bothering us anymore.

Truth can never be destroyed.
One day He will return
and put an end to lies
forever.

Saturday, 23 April 2016

Wedding

Sunlight shafts glimpse through
canopied Puriri,
long lived trees witnesses in that
fine missionary tamed plot of ripe earth.

Tangled deep green growth is crushed by
three generations of expectant feet
awaiting the holy solemnity
of new covenant
forged with full lipped vows and dearest declaration.

An ivy twisted, flower pinned archway
waits to behold the beauty
ushered in with bagpipe shrill.

The wild green church
encompasses the beckoned bridal throng,
blushing deeply with the first glimpsed view.

Words sung softly
wrap around the living columns,
woodland stilled by the One who is praised.

Gentle words and bold kisses
mingle on the lips
of the couple beheld.
Their hearts a whirl with
fulfillment and anticipation
of together life.

Applause rings the proclamation
of husband and wife,
sealed before God and man
underneath these ancient trees.

Saturday, 16 April 2016

Bad Religion

I don't want
bad religion
that binds me up
in fear and guilt,
herding me into
a suffocating small space
unable to be free
to laugh
to dance
to sing
to be the myself
God has created me to be,
and not the one of
someone else's tiny imagination.

I don't want
bad religion
where those who are in
look down on the out,
bolstering their fragile egos
in the light of other
less fortunate failures.
One look condemns,
the verdict next,
the sentence carried
before a word from the accused.

I don't want
bad religion
where no one cares
if I live or die,
as long as it doesn't
take up a moment
of their busy schedules
or inconvenience them in any way.
The volume turned down
on the cries of the desperate,
and off if it becomes too irritating.

I don't want
bad religion.
God doesn't either.
That's not why Jesus came to earth
and died
so we can be tangled up
and downward dragged
by confusing legalese
and man-made print.

God
so misrepresented
by willful muddle
and downright lies.
Humanity wants nothing to do
with the One
who created,
who loves,
who cares,
and deeply longs for
relationship
sin broken, cross restored.

He's waiting for us
to say no to
bad religion
and yes and yes and yes
to His kingdom and to Him.  

Saturday, 9 April 2016

The Hollow Men (My version of T.S.Eliot's poem of 1925)

We are the hollow men.
I know T.S.Eliot said it first,
but it bears repeating.

We are the stuffed men,
seemingly resplendent on the outside
in all our social finery,
but lost and broken inside
hoping no one will glimpse
our shame.

We are the hollow men
born without hearts
for feeling,
without minds
for thinking,
without souls
for touching one another.

So we voice our shallow platitudes
and we hope no one will ask us
a truly difficult question,
such as what does love look like
in this battered and bruised life.

We smile and nod
hoping no one will
notice our faces
flushed from crying
in the desolate wilderness
of our own untidy sanctuary.

Those who have broken through
to the other life
do not understand our downcast faces,
the despair of unknowing
and being unknown.

Faces I cannot meet again
of those in the future kingdom
look with kindness
and cheer us on to this better place,
where pain is left
as doorstep shoes
for the rain to dampen
and thieves to reject.

This is the dying land in which we live
as we look for the living One
to come and turn this death kingdom on it's head,
and flood resuscitating life into every soul
that accepts the new breath.

Here we go around the same garden path
that our first parents so carelessly wandered in.

Can it be the same
in the future
present and past,
of a world between
it's beginning and end,
surely nearer the end
although it's inhabitants
do not behave as if it were so.

We gather on the shore of this decision
to go forward
or to turn again to our personal Egypt,
that place of pleasure and pain
so muddled we cannot divide them.

Between the commencement
and the finale
comes the awkward
moment of silence
when the audience
is unsure of the
timing of their applause.

Between the passion                               For yours is the kingdom
and the regret
is something far
more confusing
and impossible
to quantify.

Between the creation                                the power and the glory
and the judgement
there is salvation
if we will have it.
A freely given gift
scorned by so many
in this darkness hungry life.

This is the way each one's world ends.       forever and ever. Amen
This is the way your world ends.
There is an end.
May it be with the power of a prayer
and not with a whimper.

Friday, 8 April 2016

Word Received 9.4.2016

Draw near to Me
and I will lead you in My purposes.
Listen to My voice,
and shut out the other voices
that would try to distract you
or lead you onto other paths.
Listen to Me and respond to My Word
not in the future but now when you hear it.
Do not fear,
for nothing will be impossible for you
if you walk in obedience.
It is not about your righteousness or your worthiness,
but it is because of My righteousness
and My worth that these things will come to pass.

Saturday, 2 April 2016

Don't lose hope

Don't lose hope.
It is more vital
to you
than your daily bread.

It sustains you,
nourishes you,
cleanses you,
and refreshes you.

Don't lose hope.
You can't buy it,
borrow, beg, or steal it.
It does not come
in convenient multi-packs,
half filled to avoid waste.

Don't lose hope.
You can't quantify it, define it,
measure it with metric or imperial.
But you will be truly lost without it,
unable to move one space
forward in your beckoning life.

Don't lose hope.
We take it for granted
when we have it in abundance.
That invincibility of youth,
untainted by disappointment,
who know they can do anything.

Don't lose hope.
When disaster or tragedy
visits with unwelcome abhorrence,
and leaves you with a disgust
that life can be so.

Don't lose hope.
The disciples lost it
as they saw Jesus on the cross,
but found it afresh
on the third day
with gripping intensity.

Jesus said,"I go to My Father
to prepare a place for you."

Don't lose hope.

Saturday, 26 March 2016

Easter Sunday Morning

I can't see his face
through the tears.
It's blood stained, broken
I know.
I don't recognize my Lord and my friend.

I have no more tears.
I am spent, numb.
There is nothing left
of his life, or mine
except this ragged cloth
with which he wiped his face.

The blood has hardened,
the dirt dried
but it has become my most precious treasure.

I hold it
and breathe in the memory
of the good times,
the healings,
and outrageous outpourings
of miraculous grace
that flowed out of him
those three full years.

Full of so much promise,
excitement, power, wonder,
compassion, love.

Love.
That is what I'm left with.
His love.

It made me complete,
healed, restored.
No longer judged and dirty,
a social leper, a society outcast.

He gave me dignity, purpose.
He restored my name to me,
who I really am.

I will go to the tomb today
to anoint his body.
My last act of love
given in return.

I will ask the gardener to help me
roll away the stone.
There he is.