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I once preached in a pub. There was a gospel choir giving a concert and I said a few words here and there. While the choir was doing its thing I spotted a pretty young blonde in the crowd eyeing up the female conductor with weapons grade jealousy — a mixture of awe, scorn and terrified confusion. The conductor was dancing away, clapping and singing, leading the choir in joyful praise. The blonde looked like she just about remembered smiling, back before she renounced sudden facial movements for the sake of her plastic beauty.  Anyway, it prompted this poem:

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Plaintive, Platinum, Pained
Caked in make up,
faked up, furtive,
Birdlike watching,
wild-eyed, wondring how she's watched.

Faintly feeble, restless, regal,
perched in peerless poses,
None opposes,
Female poseurs all faced-down.
No finer found
than she.
And she knows it.

Yet on this day, a blaze is lit, to flit
Upon her plastic face.  New radiant grace
descends to offend. To bend and afflict her.
Slight frowns a-flicker.
Scowls unfurl.
Lips now curl.
For here a foreign fire is set upon her world.

Another sun is risen.
Unbidden.  And previously hidden.
She hasn't sought the room's permission.
And yet she stands four square, bare foot and laughing,
Leading, clapping, stamping, shouting.
Tangled hair and hands upraised,
God praised in ways unfazed
by inhibition.

At once the made-up beauty gapes. Envy's swirled.
There's longing there, in her stare.  And rage.
And awe and shame and scorn.
This light has dawned
from another age. A distant world.

The light, for her, was meant to fall,
and she to catch its rays,
in dappled hues upon her face.
She had not thought at all
That she was meant to blaze.

But then, what Force could ever source such light?
To call it mine and free-forgetful shine.
Much safer to take flight, flee to flattering night,
ever minding others' sight.
And yet true beauty will endure,
she stands secure,
first captured by a fierce delight,
And tunes our hearts to Joy's invite.

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If I should die think only this
... A bullet flew by that did not miss...

What story of the war is told?
Romance bright or horror cold?
Triumph's tale or tragic loss,
the iron or the wooden cross?
Lost lament or victor's boast?
Full brass band or lone last post?
Heroes, villains, cowards, kings?
It's war... it's all these things.

It's us unleashed for good and ill,
the gallant heart, the savage will.
A Kaiser's pride, a nation's fear,
a global greed, it's all in here.

What causes war, the old book asks?
Beyond the history, beneath the masks,
There grows a want, becomes a will,
demands our way, prepares to kill.

The war we mark as long ago,
is close to home, it's all we know.
What ceases war? The pressing question.
What can halt inborn aggression?
To end all wars and retribution -
war itself is no solution.

Can terror end all terror now?
Brute force subdue itself and bow?
Can darkness drive out darkened dread?
Or death extinguish death instead?

We need to interrupt the spiral.
A healing antiretroviral.
The story's told of an Anti-Zeus -
A God of Peace turned Human Truce.
Into our world, into our midst -
a walking, talking armistice.

A King made meek, a power made weak,
to stand and turn the other cheek,
to take the blow, absorb disgrace,
and rise to give again His face.
In grace undimmed and arms unfurled,
to bless and pacify the world...

...and you - to sweet surrender brought,
forgiveness for your battles fought,
a peace to pass to every soul,
then warfare ceased from pole to pole.

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You can download a copy for showing in church here.

Please do share - we're offering a free copy of 321 to enquirers. Pray that many find hope at Easter through this little resource.

If you had been here my brother would not have died.
If you'd tried.
Were you otherwise occupied? Hands tied?

Or did you hide? Maybe biding your time? For what?
A deeper challenge, a grander entrance, a brighter glory, a better story?

"The nick of time" is a good story.
That would do.
11th hour, you'd come through.
Midnight you were due.
Now it's half past two.
Where were you?

If you had been here he would not have died.
You were meant to ride on your white horse, enter the fray, the dragon slay, save the day.
Did you hear us pray?
Did you want it this way?

If you had been here to stop him dying...
Why are you crying?
You're meant to be death-defying,
now you're sighing at the tomb, decrying mortal ruin.
Why in God's name are you queueing for the same?

You're commander in chief, we demanded relief, but you landed beneath all our sorrows and grief.
Now it's you on your knees empty-handed, bequeathing us none of our pleas.
Is this what you chose? To bring only tears? We've got plenty of those!

Why are you here?
You say: "To draw near."

Then you sink like a stone past the brink of the chasm we desperately fear.
In darkness enfolded, our terrors you shouldered, while pierced by the nails and the spear.

You have been here.
You've stooped far below all depths that we know, engulfed in our weeping and woe.
Submerged in the grave, then risen to save, upending assumptions we'd made.

If you had been here,
the way that we'd prayed,
we'd only succeed in sorrow delayed.
We'd only evade the reaper for now,
But soon we would bow,
Soon we'd be ploughed in the ground, with no-one to plead.

Yet,
through you, death's a gardener and we are the seed.
And this is the path Resurrection decreed.

If you will be here,
drawing near, that will do.
For now to know you in your grace we can face what is true.
“As in Adam the world dies, so in Christ all WILL arise.”

When you appear - and my brother too -
When you wipe away tears,
when darkness clears,
when mourning has cheered
and joy swallows fear.

Through all our years,
here's how we'll cope,
this our sure hope:
You will be here.

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WORDS:

“Every idiot who goes about with “Merry Christmas” on his lips should be boiled with his own pudding, and buried with a stake of holly through his heart.” Ebenezer Scrooge.

SCROOGE

I like the darkness... at least it’s cheap,
I keep adjusted to the gloom, the creeping doom,
that soon consumes the earth in tombs,
I hum its tune. Assume its tone and make my home right here
in the only world we know.
This world of woe.
Let others throw their festive flings,
I think I’ll keep my five gold rings.

SHOPPER

Four Calling Birds, Three French Hens, Two Turtle Doves,
She loves the doves.
Yeah shove it on the card above.
...No never fear my dear, I’ll pay it all...
Next year.

For now we’ll drink to Christmas cheer!
And deck the halls with tinselled bling,
Forget what our tomorrows bring
We’ll raise a glass of festive sherry,
Eat and drink and be quite m...

SANTA

Merry Christmas everyone! And what's your wish for me, my son?

A hamper full of festive fun!
With snowdrops, rainbows, furry mittens;
unicorns and mewling kittens.

Santa's sleigh may bring them near, but were you good for me this year?

Why YES, I think. I didn’t sink as low as some I know...
although…
Hey, No!
Father Christmas, mind your own business!

The kids might believe but they are naive.
I know for certain, I see through the curtain.
But when you strip it all bare, what exactly is there?

See Scrooge looks darkness full in the face,
embracing the chill but he loses the will to hope

The Shopper copes better, throws off fetters,
wears garish sweaters, but becomes a debtor,
spending now but nothing later,
tending down into death’s crater.

Santa offers Christmas cheer,
the most wonderful time of the year,
but is it real?
At least Scrooge knew the deal with the dark.

In this stark world can we face facts like Scrooge?
Then paint it rouge like the Shopper?
Proper banter like Santa,
But below the Ho, Ho, Ho, can we know a truth beneath treacle?

Good news of great Joy for all people?

STABLE

Are we able to strip back to the stable,
This fable made flesh, our Maker enmeshed in the mess.
To bless us, possess us, and be heaven’s Yes to our race.
To embrace us in grace, evermore in our place.
Pledging flesh, blood and bone. To exchange a throne for a manger.
Endangering all to be present to you. To be God’s present to you.

If you’re Santa or Shopper, or any such thing.
If you’re shepherd, or Mary or Joseph or king.
For this the herald angels sing.

In Him the Light shines and all is forgiven.
To you this Christmas Child is given.

 

It's National Poetry Day apparently, so here are a couple from my teenage years. The first was written just after arriving in the UK from Australia (aged 14)

Yoh-ghurt, Vite-amins, Sconns (to be performed)

Yoh-ghurt, Vite-amins, Sconns,
Yoh-ghurt, Vite-amins, Sconns,
The ways of saying these words are obeying
Rules of expanding your cultural standing.
You're making a case for social debase,
By cruelly denouncing the ways of pronouncing,
Yoggurt, Vittamins, Scoanes.

 

Big Issue

Big Issue, Big Issue,
A tool to accrue street cred,
As I tread down the no-through lane,
Diplayin' my copy for all the world,
My lips smugly curled at the end,
As I pretend to have read it.
I haven't.
Instead it's there to combat the stare
of the next vendor as I pass,
Upholding the farce of my middle-class trauma.
"No thanks!" says I, "Already read it." I lie,
And sell mine on round the corner.

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trinity iconPerhaps my favourite verse of Scripture - notice the roles of the three Persons:

“The Lamb at the centre of the throne will be their Shepherd. He will lead them to Streams of Living Water and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.” (Revelation 7:17)

 

And so...

 

For our anxious little realm,
for the fears that overwhelm…

There is a throne.

For mistakes we can’t forget
and the sins that still beset…

We have a Lamb.

For our lost and lonely hearts,
for our gnarled and tangled paths…

We have a Shepherd.

For our dry and listless souls
and our thirst for being whole…

We have a Stream.

For regret and ravaged years,
for all sweet and bitter tears...

We have a Father.

For treks through burning sands,
To our home in promised lands,
This hope till all is done:
Our God the three-in-one.

"The Sacrifice" by George Herbert:

OH all ye, who passe by, whose eyes and minde
To worldly things are sharp, but to me blinde;
To me, who took eyes that I might you finde:
Was ever grief like mine?
...

Judas, dost thou betray me with a kisse?
Canst thou finde hell about my lips? and misse
Of life, just at the gates of life and blisse?
Was ever grief like mine?
...

Then they condemne me all with that same breath,
Which I do give them daily, unto death.
Thus Adam my first breathing rendereth:
Was ever grief like mine?
...

Behold, they spit on me in scornfull wise,
Who by my spittle gave the blinde man eies,
Leaving his blindnesse to my enemies:
Was ever grief like mine?
...

The souldiers also spit upon that face,
Which Angels did desire to have the grace,
And Prophets, once to see, but found no place:
Was ever grief like mine?
...

O all ye who passe by, behold and see;
Man stole the fruit, but I must climbe the tree;
The tree of life to all, but onely me:
Was ever grief like mine?
...

In healing not my self, there doth consist
All that salvation, which ye now resist;
Your safetie in my sicknesse doth subsist:
Was ever grief like mine?
...

Read the whole astonishing poem

Check out our Easter Spoken Word videos BREAD OF HEAVEN and CANNONBALL

Plus, here's some stuff you're welcome to rip off if you like...

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Gethsemane:

Here's an idea for an all-age sermon / school assembly. It's a game of pass the parcel where the parcel is a poisoned cup. There's a song to go with it:

 

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Also for Maundy Sunday, I love this setting of When You Prayed Beneath the Trees.

Forget the singer, Christopher Idle's song's in my top 5 all time hymns.

 

Cross

Seed Song (Jesus is the Seed who dies and rises to bring life)

 

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Resurrection

Firstfruits

 

Easter Morn (the song that became 'Firstfruits' - no round)

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Little Fish! (Jesus is bigger than death)

 

Some Easter Sermons

Hebrews 2:14-18 (Last Sunday's sermon)

Some Talks By Others About Death (and Resurrection)

Dev Menon: Death Part 1 (Good Friday)

Dev Menon: Death Part 2 (Easter Sunday)

John Behr: Death the Final Frontier

John Behr: Taking Back Death

 

Videos

Some Easter .

 

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Feel free to DOWNLOAD the video and use it in church / youth group / wherever.

And here's me explaining the teaching behind the video

Our other spoken word videos:

 

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It's the fairy tale we all believe in - connection, completion, love without parting. The merest glimpse of it captures our hearts. But is the fairy tale real? Is there such a thing as endless bliss, unconquered love and a happily ever after?

Countless failed relationships and a beckoning grave cry out No. Love does not seem to have the last word in our lives - decay, disease, divorce, depression and death does. Can we really believe in love?

The answer is Yes, but only because there is a love despite our deserving, a love stronger than death, a love beyond this world. Jesus makes the fairy tale true - not just for bright-eyed young couples on their wedding day. Because of his blood-earnest, death-defying love, Jesus can bring us all into the ultimate romance. Whatever your relationship history or status, this bliss is for you!

WORDS

You

beside me.

Me: beside myself with you.

Beyond myself in you,

Become myself anew,

Belongs, this self, to you.

 

You

behold me.

Me: behold the world in you.

Besotted with the view,

Bewitched by all you do,

Beguiled by guileless you.

 

We

believe this:

This bedtime tale

Though countless fail

Though pride derail

Though death curtail

We believe this.

This bliss

Beseiged by hatred’s hiss

Beset by graves' abyss

Betrayed despite our kiss

We believe this.

 

But is this bliss true?

Or only for the few

And then sinks from view

Is it true?

Beneath the tale,

Before we fail,

Beside what’s frail,

Beyond death’s vale?

Is it true?

Not only for the few

And then sinks from view

Is it true?

 

He

Beheld me.

Me: deep held in my disgrace.

He bends now face to face,

Becomes me in His grace,

Befriends me, takes my place.

 

He

Betrothed me.

Me: bestowed the world for free.

Bequeathed by royal decree,

Beloved eternally,

Become as one: He with me.

 

This, beneath all other glories

This, beyond the bedtime stories

This, beside your marital station

This, love’s sweetest consummation.

This is true.

Never to sink from view.

Not only for the few.

This bliss is for you.

 

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