I have had the honour of appearing in a worship anthology, called 'Stones Before the Ocean', alongside such venerable names as Charles Wesley (And Can it be?) and John Newton (Amazing Grace). Here are my three published poems in it: 1. This poem came to me while I was sitting in a communion service on the Thursday of Holy week. As Jesus prepared himself for the death that awaited him the next day and the disciples continued to be as obtuse as ever, did he have doubts about the success and lasting efficacy of his short mission on earth? Or was it always intended to be just the beginning . . . goldmine three years was all he had to reveal the infinite ages of God walking distance was all he had to cover light years of knowledge and truth simple, illiterate folk to teach the complexity of His plan arrogant, hostile scholars to teach the simplicity of his love
when they nailed him to the cross did he hang there wondering is it enough? It is finished - but have they really grasped it? that was when he knew that revelation could not end
Christianity is not a finished product to be analysed, preserved and taught it is a living language always evolving like modern Italian to classical Latin so our living faith to old texts the goldmine goes on giving 2. This poem came to me at a ‘spiritual creativity’ conference about three years ago. The room was full of artists and I felt inadequate. How could anything I might write possibly compare with the beautiful artwork I could see evolving around me? I took my feelings to God: already given fill me up , Lord; empty vessel, me colour me pretty, Lord; blank canvas, me mould and sculpt me, Lord; potters’ clay, me light me up, Lord; space of shadows, me delight my ears, Lord; silent and deaf, me open up my life, Lord; limited, shuttered me
what is this empty, colourless lump of clay? what is this shadowy, silent, closed-up box? I do not know it or recognise its place in my creation I have poured out my spirit upon you I have shone forth my power upon you I have lit you up with the colours of love I have sounded out my clarion call a vibrant drum roll to shatter your shutters and rupture your limits I have planted eternity in your heart
why go on asking and asking? I tire of your demands for the already-given now listen to MY demands: be full be bright be shaped be lit up be full of music be open wide live the life for ME
3. This poem expresses my sadness that the thrill I felt when I first found Jesus has somehow been commuted to dutiful routines and even boredom; but also my realisation that God is as sad as me about this as I am. He is still offering the thrill; why am I turning away from it? innermost remember first love? remembering to breathe forgetting to hide aching void that filled up with a rush and emptied back fast into pain counting the moments till the next rush not wanting to tell of it not able to stop with it carrying a fire so deep that it charred my innermost innermost
how did it happen? how did it become normal, blunted into routine? wonder turned into duty toil verging on tedium watching the clock, awaiting escape nothing to talk about no news to share dousing the smouldering ashes in my innermost innermost
can I find it again that breathless first love, recapture the first careless rapture? He has no need of my love why would God almighty need me? But He wants it, He yearns for it offers new kindling for the ashes pure gold for base metal red-hot love for cold duty why not take it? why not? what is it I am afraid of in my innermost innermost? The anthology is over 200 pages of inspirational writing of all kinds, stretching across centuries and continents. You can download it as an ebook for free or buy it from various bookselling sites. Find out about it and read the introduction from its curator at www.stonesbeforetheoccean.tk |
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