Metal Heart.

“I once was lost but now I’m found, was blind
But now I see.
How selfish of you to believe in the meaning of all the bad dreaming

Metal heart, you’re not hiding
Metal heart, you’re not worth a thing”.

From “Metal Heart” by Cat Power.

Cinema seems to have witnessed a resurgence of 3-D films over the past year.  Something that I thought had been ditched in the 1980’s seems to be being re-explored as a means of pulling us further into the stories that unfold before our eyes.  Is this a fad aimed at children or will we see cinema forever altered by revisiting ideas from an earlier age?

3-D cinema is designed to bring depth.  Everything literally takes on a whole new dimension.  We may feel self conscious or look silly with those 3-D glasses on, but when we are with a group of people with a similar focus our awkwardness seems irrelevant and our resistance dissipates instantly.

How often do I walk through life, caught up in my own little world, missing a whole other realm?

How often does my desire to fit in prevent me from seeing things as they really are?

“¹² Now we see things imperfectly as in a cloudy mirror, but then we will see everything with perfect clarity.^[a] All that I know now is partial and incomplete, but then I will know everything completely, just as God now knows me completely”. (1Cor 13:12 – NLT).

It has been a priviledge in recent weeks to be assisting in leading my first Alpha Course.  It has been interesting to discover what the tenets of our faith are seen to be.  It has been inspiring to see the giftings and genuine love of HIWWC as she leads the sessions.  It has been refreshing to hear peoples’ ideas and experiences and to have a place where those are validated and listened to rather than the leaders doing most of the talking.  It has been a joy to see people begin to “get it” or nudge a bit closer with no-one ramming an agenda, but, rather, simply, holding out an offer. 

I have loved to hear questions asked, clarity gained and to catch even glimpses of lives taking on a whole new dimension and people gaining a different perspective and, perhaps, in time, a fresh world-view…

Come Home

“After thirty years I’ve become my fears.
I’ve become the kind of man I’ve always hated.
I am pulled apart, and my swollen heart
Has flipped out of the pan into the fire.
I am in love insane with a sense of shame
that I threw stones at the condemned and now I’m slated.

And I don’t believe you’re all I’ll ever need.
And I need to feel that you’re not holding me.
But the way I feel just makes me want to scream.
Come home, Come home, Come home
Come home, Come home, Come home
Come home, Come home, Come home”.

From “Come Home” by James.

I tend to write a lot about journeying through life.  We are a disparate generation and so nomadic at times.  Many of us have moved around as we grew up.  Many of us left home to study and had our first real sense of freedom.  We have nostalgic feelings for those times and places and, even then, many of us only spent term time in those cities.  We moved on to wherever the job opportunities were and often we relocate due to employment.  We rarely return to where our family trees were rooted and we wonder why we find it hard to belong?

Sometimes there comes a point to put our roots down.  To soak things up and get the nutrients we need to really contribute to life.

Or as Karl said on Sunday, “If you’ve got the fruit, you’ve got the root”.

The one story that has stuck with me more than any other this year has been that of the Prodigal Son.  It’s one of the most famous stories in the Bible.  Yet, on several occasions and in several places I have been reminded not so much of the Prodigal, but of the tale of the older brother.  Maybe it’s because I am an older brother, but something has resonated and struck a chord with me.

Maybe like the older brother I have spent my time staying close to the Father’s house and busying myself with the Father’s business.  Those may not necessarily be bad things, but the older brother neglected his role of being a mediator – of going and looking for, redeeming and saving that which was lost.  He failed to bring his sibling back from the far land.

I don’t know if the far land is metaphorical, spiritual or geographical.  Maybe it’s a combination of those attributes?  Maybe my focus, whilst well intentioned, hasn’t always been where it should be?  Who is my brother?

Whilst at the Tubestation in Cornwall the other week I came across a great photo of a typical sign outside a church.  The words, however, were atypical:

“When the Father’s house is filled with the Father’s love the prodigals will come home”.

Winter, winter.

“Winter, winter on the way
bitter cold she bring.
Winter, winter on the way
hard and deadly thing.
Winter, winter on the way
everybody sing.
Winter, winter on the way
and after winter…”

From “Winter, Winter” by The Waterboys.

I love this time of year: steam from nostrils; condensation on windows revealing messages previously scribbled with damp fingers; sharp inhales of breath; senses feeling more focussed; stars seeming brighter and clearer by night; striped scarfs, cozy gloves and wooly hats; my rediculously padded parka jacket that instantly makes me feel like an extra from The Empire Strikes Back; the heat of my cheek from an open fire; hot, wholesome, soup and a glass of Merlot.

It still feels like early November, but I know the remaining six weeks or so of the year will disappear as they always do.

So this afternoon it was out with the old bike to retune it to face the daily commute through the colder months and into the garage with the new model to preserve it from grit, rust and corrosion.

We plucked the last of the apples from our tree and harvested the remaining vegetables from the garden.

It was nice to look back at the glow of the house lights from the darkening garden.  It was good to take stock, to recognise provision – to rest and be thankful…

Where’s Your Head At?

“Where’s your head at?
(Where your head at? Where your head at? at? at? at? at? at? at?)
Where’s your head at?
(Where your head at? Where your head at? at? at? at?)”

From “Where’s Your Head At?” by Basement Jaxx.

Sometimes my head just feels full.  My mind feels like it’s working overtime – trying to prioritise my to-do list at work, trying to figure out how to resource that and deliver timeously, trying to suss out how to juggle the demands of work and family life, day-dreaming of how life will look next May when our second child arrives, trying to keep patient when things aren’t going as I plan, longing for a little oasis in the day or an alcove I can retreat into, wondering how life really is with some of my close friends behind the smiles and the surface conversation, trying to discern whether half the ideas in my head are all of my own creating or whether they are inspired by something altogether bigger…

Sometimes I just need to stop. 

To download.

Then at other times I wonder if this process just makes space for me to come with a blank sheet.  Not to ask God to bless my plans, but to ask Him to reveal His.

But, if He knows every word before it is on my lips, does He also know the words I scribble down too?  Are the words some form of ghost writing?  Could they be Holy Ghost writing?

Perfect Day.

“It’s such a perfect day.

I’m glad I spent it with you.

Oh, such a perfect day.

You just keep me hanging on”.

From “Perfect Day” by Lou Reed.

I spent a couple of hours on the bean bags and graffitied old choir seats in my favourite cafe the other week.  We made ourselves at home and enjoyed the crepes and coffees of the Tubestation whilst watching surf videos on the big screen, listening to some mellow sounds and perusing the leaflets and literature lying around.

I had a really encouraging and affirming chat with Henry and Kris who run the place.  Whilst in many ways, I barely know them I feel very connected with them and on the same wavelength.  I will, therefore, always be part of the cheer-section for what God is doing there.

Refreshed and re-energised I clambered into my wetsuit for the first time since June.  I’ve been nursing a knee injury for some time now, but the physiotherapist has given me permission to get back on my surfboard for no more than 30 minutes at a time.

So, after proper stretching and warming up on Polzeath beach, I walked into the sea audibly singing my praise.  Pushing my board against the whitewater and feeling my feet take on the firm sandbar, it wasn’t long till I was paddling out and trying gingerly to catch a few dumpy waves, unsure of how my knee would hold up.

It may not have been the least sketchy or most well styled surf session, but it felt great to be immersed afresh.  As I peeled my way out of a cold, clingy, wet suit in the car park, the backdrop was a perfectly arched rainbow.

Praise be!

Easter @ The 7-11

“Every holiday somehow I find myself down at the 7-11.

At Halloween we go to hell

and at Easter we go to heaven”.

From “Easter @ The 7-11″ by Gena Rowlands Band.

Yesterday was Halloween.  It’s funny each year to watch how differently my daughter reacts to the supermarket’s seasonal celebrations – Easter; Halloween; Christmas…

There is something evocative about pumpkins.  They remind me of childhood and, yet, there is something mysterious or deeper or darker or more sinister.  Being a parent has a strange tension of wanting to offer your child freedom, but wanting to also offer restraint or protection. 

Where the mind wanders, the feet sometimes follow… 

Is that how the Father also feels about me as he watches me wander from the path at times or be enticed by things that seem innocent enough but which are not helpful for me?

There Was A Time.

“There was a time said the traveller as he looked back,

looked back from whence he came.

There was a time said the traveller as he set out.

Set forward once again.

But in the distance came a whisper,

A voice that thrilled his soul.

“Don’t you look back you weary traveller,

for tomorrow, tomorrow, you will be whole”.

Rose coloured past why do you bait me?

Beckoning, calling my name, oh, still small voice of calm”.

From “There Was A Time” by Eden Burning.

Sometimes someone comes into our lives who will forever change things.  Someone we will always think of fondly and with gladness of heart.

In April 1992 we met a band called Eden Burning at Spring Harvest.  We developed friendships and after getting a chance to do the support slot at one of their gigs in Aberdeen, the band I was playing in – Missing Jane – were invited as support band on about half of their “Vinegar & Brown Paper” tour later that year. 

I have such great memories of those days and nights.  Living the life we loved and dreamed of.  Losing ourselves in music and trying to connect with the audience with lyrics which spoke of the worldview and ideas that Eden Burning and Missing Jane traded and shared.

14 years since we saw any of Eden Burning, it was a joy to spend an hour or two with Paul Northup and his family a couple of weekends ago.  Our clans filled his home and we shared tales of what the intervening years had brought into our respective lives and reminisced of days gone by.

I was strangely warmed to observe how life has panned out - to internalise with thankfulness that we have all grown into people I think the younger versions of ourselves would have taken pleasure in.  A quick glance of the bookshelves and art work coupled with discussions of faith, creativity, social justice and Howies clothing told its own tale. 

Those were moments of grace, just to sip mugs of tea and watch the kids playing together.  Oh for many more days and hours like those…

Barriers.

“So let me tell the truth
And let me come alive.
Let me build bridges
Into your life.
I’m sick of being born again and again
I don’t need conditions to let you in”.

From “Barriers” by Aereogramme.

I’m lucky enough to generally love my job.  I also love the ride there and back most days.  This videoclip of a TV advert currently showing in Scotland makes me smile hugely for the imagery and the fact that the song is by another friend of mine, Craig B.

This Is The Sea

“These things you keep
You’d better throw them away.
You wanna turn your back
On your soulless days.
Once you were tethered
And now you are free.
Once you were tethered.
Well, now you are free.
That was the river.
This is the sea!”

From “This Is The Sea” by The Waterboys.

I’ve written about the concept of “missional expressions” on my blog before. 

It is the direction our church community is moving in.  Groups of folks clustered around a post-code, people group or shared interest and trying  naturally to be distinct – to bring flavour, to preserve that which is good, to shine a little light in the darkness.  To be outward looking rather than insular.

The leadership asked us to float ideas and the first eleven or so are about to be rolled out and tested between now and February.  So here’s what I’m looking at being a catalyst for:

“Soul Surfers –  An opportunity for Christians who surf (or who would like to learn how to) to arrange to do so together.  We will look outwards, intentionally building natural friendships in the surf community and inviting non-Christian friends to join us. We will encourage and support each other, “doing life together”.  We’ll spend time getting to know each other, including our non-churched friends, to live our lives as open books and to build familiarity with those we come in contact with”.

Want to join me in sussing out if there is any mileage in this? 

Gotta Serve Somebody

“You may be a preacher with your spiritual pride.
You may be a city councilman taking bribes on the side.
You may be working in a barbershop, you may know how to cut hair.
You may be somebody’s mistress, may be somebody’s heir.

But you’re gonna have to serve somebody, yes
You’re gonna have to serve somebody.
Well, it may be the devil or it may be the Lord
But you’re gonna have to serve somebody”.

From “Gotta Serve Somebody” by Bob Dylan.

My bro’, Keith, used this video clip recently.  It’s old-skool, but it’s so true.