Blog No.2 (because it’s not the first one)

I love story. I don’t mean I love a good story, I mean I love story:

Story is when we have something to say. Story is what, and who, and why we are. Story is what happens in and around the facts. Because of, or despite the facts. Story is the harmony that comes when we take the notes of our day-to-day and let them dance with the ups and downs of this real life.

I just read a little of the story of an old mate and his, er, new mate… and just thought to myself - this is so great… I love story! This story was a story of love, yes. But in the end, it’s just the beginning of a story of love. His story. Hers. But isn’t it great when you hear about someone - I mean, really hear about them?! Not just facts or circumstances - but their passions, the things which affect them; that matter (good or bad)!

My point though, is not their story, but yours. You need to live it. And you need to tell it -  share it with others. Take a chance… risk revealing something of yourself someone else, and you’ll both be better of for it. Take some time to think back, and look forward… and keep reading, and writing that story…

I’m not talking about blogs or Facebook. Well, not just that. I’m talking about coffee shops and bbq’s and that person you’ve been meaning to hook up with for ages…

Take a chance on them. They’ll love you for it. And they might just love you!

I’ve got a little time on my hands, and I’ve been reading back a few years… I came across a mysterious poem which could mean a few things - but I think it’s mostly about the tension of goodbye, the hope of provision, and the mystery of love. And I couldn’t be more vague, could I?

Let me know what you think.

Unjoining V1.0

To sing at midnight

we’ve felt the pain
once again
promises broken in the words today
we’ve sat and talked about these paths we’ve walked
sometimes it’s dark, this battle fought
 

but you, you’ve made your mark
right from the start
it’s unbelievable, incredible
you’ve given us the heart to sing
at midnight

the nights get late as we’ve pondered this fate
that’s turning from chance into the plans you have made
the light you shine beyond the boundary line
to take us beyond our state of mind

but you have taken part in the stories of our hearts
it’s illogical, but wonderful
you’ve given us the heart to sing
at midnight

16/6/98

Time is a remarkable thing. I can’t believe it was ten years ago that I wrote that song. Ok, give or take a few weeks…

It’s a song written from a dark place where I could still see a light shining. A friend was going through an even darker place – but I felt there was hope amidst it all. I began to think of Paul, a follower of Jesus and one of the first people to lead others in Christ’s way… He’s in a Roman jail and worshipping God. I mean, in a rotting stinking jail at midnight worshipping God, and God sets him free. I think he was free even before the doors were broken open and before the chains were undone.

And that’s something much more remarkable than time.

…and wrote a few poems.

A block of wood

Here’s a man with a microphone
an audience, barely enough to crowd
songs of love and Lawrence
its the words that cry out loud
The music just drifts away
melts into tomorrow
both through and between the lines
he had a lot to say

Here’s a man with a block of wood
shaped and fashioned to sing in tune
the words crafted and moulded
by prayer and question
and the story of a carpenter, born a Jew

He was a man who took trees
cut and shaped them
turned them
and worked them with ease
to help the men of this world
to help his family
But that wasn’t why he came
His destiny was a tree
that cut and shaped Him
turned his destiny to a moment
a block of wood
a foundation
for eternity

So a man with a guitar and a microphone
a voice with a heart for souls
and a spirit born
when a Jewish carpenter died (and rose)
and his fingers are worn

playing for the Glory of his Lord
a block of wood
a foundation for eternity
a name on a rock

a block of wood
shaped and fashioned to sing in tune
a block of wood…

(For Derek Lind)
(5/8/95)

Look away

candle light
a red spot light
this time a man with a song
got it right

I can’t look away

I could walk away from the man
I could hang up the guitar
but as for the song
I cannot turn away

the words have me
captured by their passion
captivated by

the brutal beauty
of the ugliness of this world

candle light
a red spot light
this is how I want to do it
do it right

I can’t let them look away…

(5/8/95)

Shadow (II)

shadow on a curtain
guitar on a chair
and all there is left on stage
is a song in mid air

(he left it hanging there)

shadow of a cross
cast by a fire of fear
and all there is left
blood and water, love and despair

(He’s no longer hanging there)

One man is coming back to sing
Another will return as King…

…and the shadows will bow
in reverence and fear

right here.

(5/8/95)