Wednesday, December 29, 2010

Humble pie

It's very easy to talk about wanting to be humble, having a humble attitude toward something, or acting humbly. But what does it really mean? How can we become humble? What holds us back from becoming it? So often I think I can achieve humility, and then fall flat on my face as I'm reminded that I don't have a humble bone in my body - or an ounce of drop of humble spirit in my heart.

C.S. Lewis defined humility as 'self-forgetfulness'. But how do we forget put ourselves aside?

I've just started reading Tim Chester's 'The Ordinary Hero', in which he paints a vivid picture of how vital the cross is to our humility. Referring to Jesus, he notes that 'His life shows us humility; his cross humbles us.'

He goes on to quote Martyn Lloyd-Jones, noting that 'Nothing but the cross can give us a spirit of humility,' and John Stott:

'All of us have inflated views of ourselves, especially in self-righteousness, until we have visited a place called Calvary. It is there, at the foot of the cross, that we shrink to our true size.'

Tim Chester goes on to state that, 'The secret to humility is never to stray far from the cross.' The cross shows us as we really are, in our sinful natures, and reminds us that we are pure and good enough only in Jesus Christ. Only the cross can humble us and shrink us to our true size.

But how do we not stay far from the cross? Lloyd-Jones encourages you to 'preach to yourself', applied here to literally telling yourself the truths of the cross. Bring yourself back to the cross, ponder it, remind yourself who you are in Jesus, because of Jesus, that you are sinful by nature, but wonderfully saved by Christ! I think we forget, all to easily, the beauty, wonder and scandal of the cross. Do we want to become humble? We need to look at the cross. Really look, and remember.


Sunday, December 26, 2010

My year in status updates

Facebook has an interesting application that takes your most interacted-with status updates and turns them into a collage. This was, apparently, my year in status updates!

Click on it to see the full-size version.


Saturday, December 25, 2010

What is Christmas?

What is Christmas?

"What is Christmas?" The teacher asked,
to his class as they sat on the floor.
"When you think of it, what comes to mind?
An excitement? A bit of a bore?"
The looks on their faces were mixed
as they all thought of Christmas day.
Some looking forwards and some thinking back,
others were miles away.
"The presents," one freckle-faced boy offered up,
many smiles taking his side.
"The snow," said one cheery-cheeked wee girl of eight,
"when it covers the fir trees outside."
"Decorations and tinsel!" the cries came in fast,
"Baubles!" and "Stockings!" "Paper chains!"
A raise of a hand and the chatter died down
as the teacher brough order again.
"My mummy and daddy. I, see them more,"
a shy little girl offered up.
A snigger was quoshed by the teacher's warm smile,
as he drank from his warm coffee cup.
"You know, Emma-Jane," (for that was her name),
"That's my favourite Christmas bit too,
apart from the story of one little child
who was actually quite similar to you.
He was born on a night, in the roughest of beds,
just his mum and his dad by his side.
No huggable teddy to snuggle at night,
just straw and a blanket beside.
No family came, nor a single close friend
to cuddle or coo at the child,
just some shepherds who'd left all their sheep in a field
and three strangers who'd travelled a while.
The children leaned closer, all starry eyed,
"Did the boy get no presents?" One asked.
"Well, not what you'd think," the teacher replied,
"each stranger gave one as they passed.
The first gave him gold," the boys' eyes lit up,
"The second gave Frankincense."
"Frankin-what?" several chimed, the teacher just smiled,
"It was used by the priests," he said.
"The last gift was Myrrh, which caused a bit of a stir,
as it was used as a burial spice."
"So they meant he would die?" asked the oldest girl, Vi,
"Well that's just not very nice!"
The teacher just grinned, as he wiped from his chin
the last cooling drop of his drink.
"Mr Smith," piped a child, "Y'know that baby boy?
He had it quite rough, don't you think?"
The teacher just nodded, the magic unspoilt
and lowered his cup to the floor.
A glance at his watch showed a quarter past three,
"All right children, line up at the door."
As the boys and the girls took their jackets and coats,
a hand tugged the old teacher's shirt.
And as he looked down, not a hint of a frown
crossed the beaming blue eyes of young Gert.
"You know, Mr Smith, all his presents aside,
I think he just wanted our love.
A kiss and a cuddle would have made him all smiles.
I reckon that'd be enough."
The teacher beamed back, picking up a stray book,
"That gift, might just go down the best.
It's funny how love in the simplest of things
says more than a lot of the rest."
As the children filed out, each parent to find,
"Happy Christmas!" in each parting word,
The teacher watched Gert kiss and hug her tired mum,
with "I love you," the last words he heard.
As he turned on his heel, a quiet smile to himself,
the story ran back through his mind.
A child was born, many years ago,
who helped a wee girl show love, in her kind.


Friday, December 24, 2010

White Christmas

Poem: White Christmas

For the first time in ages it's white at Christmas
as snow covers the world in its shimmering shroud
yet few take the time to stop and wonder
at the beauty that lies
by the side of the path,
on the street lamps,
along the branches of skeletal trees.
Sometimes darkening and black
hardening with crusty slush and salty dirt
lying abandoned by the busy street
its wonder trampled and forgotten in the shoppers' minds.
In some places heaped in frozen mountains,
at the end of airport runways and people's drives
seen merely as a hazard and nuisance
piled up on the edge of what we care about.
We might not even bat an eye at it.
But in few places, it still lies fresh and glistening
in the mid-day sun or crisp moonlight.
Each square inch like a thousand crystals,
their facets reflecting and refracting the light that shines upon them.
This is the snow as it was created to be.
Pure. Dazzling. Beautiful.
It makes dog walkers stop and watch their breath dance in the air.
The busy city worker taking a cross-country detour turns off the engine
of his powerful 4x4 and stares out the window.
Even the local takes a moment while washing up the Christmas dinner
to stop and stare.
The sheer power of a field of snow-flakes is breath-taking.
The power to stop a mighty city.
The dazzling beauty enough to cause the hardiest soul to pause.
The sheer whiteness of its frosty blanket
pure enough to cover a world's dirtiness and grime.
Christmas time.

White and peaceful, cold and crisp,
let us all remember this:
that while the dirt still seems to cling,
snow reminds us of one thing,
that while we stood knee-deep in grime,
God came and chose the perfect time
to come into our dirty world
all rights of God'ness, sideways hurled,
to bring the snow we really need
(He knows our dirty hearts, you see,)
to clean us once and once for all
so when the snow melts at his call
all that remains beneath is white
reflecting every facet of his light.
And saying in the mid-day glow,
"Friends, come stop and look upon the snow."


Sunday, December 12, 2010

New song!

This song came out of reflecting on what the world offers us every day - what we're encouraged to rely on, strive towards, build our lives on & define ourselves by, and seeing that all of these things are transitory. They can be taken away in a single moment, our firm foundations brought to rubble and ashes. The chorus tells a different story.

Where is the righteous
the one who will light up the dark?
justice has fallen away in the land
and your word is barred.
Governments sway to the sickly sweet sound
of the world's dry voice,
poisoning ears so that much that we hear
gives us but one choice.

But our God lifts up the weary
his whisper drowns out the noise
a searchlight burning the darkness
to find and rescue us

All that we hear puts a spin
on the world that we see.
Nature is credited with all the wonders
that we can see.
Meaning is drawn from whatever
we choose to believe.
But when out foundations rocked
do we stand or fall to our knees?


It feels like there should be a bridge or final verse (or both!) here. Feel free to post your ideas as a comment :)


Monday, November 08, 2010

Just as you are

A reflection during worship at church last Sunday. I'm amazed, when I gaze on Jesus, that he accepts me just as I am; warts and all.

Just as you are

Draw near now,
come and bend your knee.
Humble yourself here, now,
bring yourself to me.
Every lying word,
every sordid deed,
forgiven by my blood,
come, let me meet your need.
Every lustful though,
every jealous wish,
washed clean by my son,
just relinquish
every worried thread
that weaves your knotted heart.
Let me come and heal
your soul in every part
and every warm embrace
every loving touch
will show you clearly here
that I love you so much.
Each time I draw you near
every word I speak
as a father to my child
not a misfit circus freak.
Every tear you shed
I'll wipe away and dry.
Every time I shelter you
my love will hear your cry.
Come, my child and kneel,
come just as you are,
for no matter where you've strayed to
it's never, never too far.

TheWeeScottie---------------------------------------------------------------weird is just your own personal brand of normal

Sunday, October 31, 2010

Winter's dance

Thoughts turn to winter, and this poem/song came out. Hoping to put a tune to it soon :)

Winter’s dance

The crisp night air, like needles pricks
At my tender fingers, numbing quick
And I sniff the breeze, feel the chill wind blow
On the thousand tiny icicles inside my nose
Soft white snow cracks beneath my feet
All those tiny little snowflakes all packed in neat
As my footsteps leave a tracker’s trail behind
Fading with the passing of time.

Winter’s sparkle, like fireflies
Plays upon my dozing eyes
And the icy breeze whips the autumn leaves
As I wander among the ghostly trees
With their trunks all rough and their fingers torn
And their boughs well worn
By the cold I know,
Let it sno-o-ow, let it snow.

Lakes stare back with their glassy gaze
While their icy shell creates a watery haze
The skittering echo of a stone as it skids,
The latest game of the neighbourhood kids.
And the snow-laden boughs of the nearby trees
Sing their dulcet melodies to the breeze
As you wander through their frozen land
Walking with winter, hand in hand.

The crackling fire in an old stone hearth
Defrosts all the toes that have walked so far
And a ruby-red glass holds a midnight’s cheer
As you see yourself into the next new year
With a handful of pledges you aim to keep
While Morpheus gathers you into his sleep
As the fire grows hushed now, and low
Winter keeps dancing on through.


Monday, October 25, 2010

Looking into the sea

One of Cat's recent blog posts set me thinking about this poem. Imagine looking into the sea. What do you see? What catches your eye? What sensations do you feel? How deep do you dive in? What might you find? Do you want to find out? Anyone can paddle in the shallows; few dive to the sea's full splendour.

Looking into the sea

I see water all around me.
I cannot escape it, nor avoid it.
It envelops me and gathers around me on every side.
I run my fingers through its smoothness.
It slows me down, but only just enough.
I close my eyes, but still I can feel it around me.
I see life all around me.
Shimmering, multicoloured, mysterious.
I sometimes feel I am dry,
that my skin lies dry and dusty beneath the sun.
But one look is all it takes,
to see the sea surrounding me,
supporting me on every side.
I can swim in this sea,
tentatively at first,
then, with stronger strokes
I dive into its depths,
discovering treasures in the deep,
crying, deep to deep,
louder than the roar of waterfalls,
waves and breakers roll over me,
washing me clean.
I look into the sea.
What do I see?
Your sea.


Shall I not?

I've just enjoyed a fantastic day of fellowship and teaching at Transformission, UCCF's South-West student equipping day under the preaching of Mike Reeves. A very encouraging and uplifting day. One of Mike's phrases stuck in my mind in particular: "Love is having a taste for the beloved... delighting and enjoying the beloved." Love is not service through guilt or contract, love is trying God, to "taste and see that the Lord is good!" This poem came out of the teaching this weekend of God calling us to enjoy him, and in doing this, not being surprised as our minds are renewed and our hearts are changed.

Shall I not?

Shall I not, with blistered fingers work,
or tell the world in full the things you love to show?
Should I not serve the church and never shirk,
ever giving to the family I love and know?

My lips, never in their serve, faltering be,
in loving many people, Lord, to you?
That they and I would come, to in your gospel see
your claims of sin and mercy, Lord are true?

Shan't I continue, full of passion, Lord to serve
ever giving of my energies to you?
and fill each waking hour without reserve
with deeds that bring the greatest praise to you?

Yet Lord, it's not my deeds that you desire
for should I try to earn your righteous grace?
Never! For what righteousness can sinful hearts sire?
How could a drop, your boundless sea replace?

No, you call me to draw near and taste your goodness,
to delight and to enjoy your precious son,
to look upon your beauty and your loveliness
and through your precious blood, to know, I'm won.

Andg growing, in your time, to love you Father,
my heart's desires, Lord, will be renewed.
Then, I will not help help myself, but rather,
live, in word and deed, in loving gratitude.


Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Mission as a way of life

6 years ago, if you had asked me what mission was, I would probably have replied that it was something we sent missionaries out to do, usually in other countries. 6 years is a long time, and I'm thankful for the friends God's blessed me with over that time. Namely, Cat. Thanks hun :) Stumbling into becoming a primary teacher has been an amazing experience, and one I feel very at peace and ultimately increasingly joyful about. When praying for our 'missionaries' from my church news bulletin though, I often felt that that was the norm. Mission's where we send people, right?

My thoughts on mission have changed radically over the last 6 years. My time in university showed me through the Christian Union that mission is a calling by God to share the life-giving gospel of Christ. The biggest revelation was the realisation that I have a mission field! For me, I've found that that mission field is my primary school where I work. That is where I can, purely by the grace of God alone, model Christ to people who don't yet know his renewing beauty, or the amazing grace he offers. Mission is not just a calling some are drawn into, it's a way of life we're called to when we accept Christ as our Abba Father, our Lord and Master, our God and King, our hope for the future. Mission is living out the gospel and its glorious ramifications of God looking on your every second of every day, and seeing the purity of Jesus' righteousness, instead of your sin. Mission is loving the man on the street, your annoying work colleague, your family as much as you love yourself.

Mission is impossible, without Christ. Loving Christ, Mission is beautiful, enticing, eye-catching, it instills a hunger for something far greater than what the world offers. It counts the world as dust and raises a hand to the stranger, holding out the beauty of the grace and infinite love that God offers for the taking. Mission should set hearts burning.

Mission; true gospel-centered, God-glorifying, self-sacrificial, Heaven-focussed mission is so beautiful, that people cannot help but look up and see something different. Joy in your hardest times, tears mixed with unshakeable faith. This is the unshakeable gospel we hold forth! A gospel built upon a rock, a lighthouse standing strong and firm and unmovable amidst the turmoil of the strongest storms. Uncertainty doesn't phase those with it - because its future is assured! The world's opinion doesn't matter to them - because God looks upon them and calls them 'my child'. Their security is never an issue, because the Lord provides all they need. Even when they feel blindfolded, the hand that gives perfectly, keeps giving perfectly to their needs.

Mission loves without want of love in return. Mission gives without thought of thanks. Mission is willing to be nailed up on the cross with Christ, amidst the scorn and mocking of friends, family, peers, colleagues, strangers, because it knows it has something so much greater. And this has to be shared.

Sunlight is a beautiful and fearful sight to a man who has known nothing but darkness his entire life. It intrigues, it scares, it burns & illuminates. In our mission field, wherever it is, we come alongside those in the dark and love them towards the light. Is your hand reached out, ready?


Monday, August 30, 2010

Artist of the week: Steve James

Steve James is a Christian artist my family have known for a number of years from back when we moved to the Wirral, near Liverpool and Steve was pastor at one of the local churches. He has a very easy to listen to style, and writes with often very poignant lyrics. Some songs are more congregational hymns, while others are clear reflections on God's character, often with reference to biblical events.

Personal favourites are Lazarus I (Rise again) & Lazarus II (Rise & Live), Christ your glory and May your words.

Lazarus I & Lazarus II, as well as his first 3 albums (now out of production) are available in mp3 format for free here.

Happy listening!

TheWeeScottie---------------------------------------------------------------weird is just your own personal brand of normal

Wednesday, August 25, 2010

Burn for you

New song written in reflection of a comment Mike Reeves (UCCF) made on how our hearts often feel so cold, (even so soon after burning so passionately for the Lord while reading his word or talking to someone else about him) and how that is the Spirit showing us the coldness of our own hearts. I'm amazed at how gracious God is in showing us how cold our hearts are, and in allowing the Spirit to show us this, realisation dawns that it God's that's enabling us to see this. He is working.

In realising how cold our hearts can be, I wonder how often our response is not to despair, but to take heart that God has been so gracious as to reveal this to us, and to turn to God for a rekindled fire.

Burn for you
Burn for you.mp3 (Click on the 'Download file' button)

My heart feels cold within me
like a flame that's guttering
why does the spark seem so small?
and even when I've met with you
spent time in your presence
my heart feels so cold

But this block of ice beating within me
is warmed by your beautiful grace
and your light of your righteousness burns away
all the dark in me
as your light burns more brightly, illuminate
those things I hide
Though cold to the touch
your Spirit is warming my heart to burn for you

Reading your word is often painful,
yet brings, with the aching, your balm
that reminds of the grace that you offered
wresting me from the devil's palm.
but then away from your word I can feel it,
this icyness cooling my joy.

And this block of ice beating within me
is warmed by your beautiful grace
and your light of your righteousness burns away
all the dark in me
as your light burns more brightly, illuminate
those things I hide
Though cold to the touch
your Spirit is warming my heart to burn for you

And this simple recognition
that this heart of mine doesn't burn
is a surefire sign that your Spirit
is opening wide my eyes to see the truth

That this block of ice beating within me
is warmed by your beautiful grace
and your light of your righteousness burns away
all the dark in me
as your light burns more brightly, illuminate
those things I hide
Though cold to the touch
your Spirit is warming my heart to burn for you

TheWeeScottie---------------------------------------------------------------weird is just your own personal brand of normal

Monday, July 05, 2010


A little poem that came out of thinking about the disciples in the 'upper room' when Jesus appeared to them.

Brothers share a lonely meal.
Someone greatly loved is lost.
Passion spent, uncertainty
creeps upon this broken host
as they begin to question all
they saw and heard and came to know.
Could all that held their heart enthralled
have betrayed hearts that loved him so?
Yet even as their shining hearts
begin to tarnish with despair,
a searing ray breaks through the dark
as he was suddenly standing there.
And he, who their hearts had sorely missed
raise open hands to greet his own
and scars, that speak of love's pure kiss,
wandering doubters brought back home.

TheWeeScottie---------------------------------------------------------------weird is just your own personal brand of normal

Saturday, June 19, 2010

Lonely in Starbucks

Inspired by my local Starbucks in Swindon which Cat and I have enjoyed cups of steaming coffee (and various other forms of coffee heresy) with good books. Something of an ode to times to come. This is for you, Cat.

Lonely in Starbucks

Verse 1

G D/F#

The clock’s running slowly,

Em7 G/B Csus2

As coffee-laced minutes fly by

G D/F# Em7

and though I’m reading my favourite book

G/B D Dsus4 Csus2

there’s something that’s not, quite, right

Em7 Csus2

A fa-miliar someone is missing

Em7 Csus2

And that space in the chair to my right

G D/F# Em7

Blows the dust from my tenderest memories,

G/B Csus2 D G

Leaving me lonely in Starbucks to-night.

Fill: (G, D/F#, Em7, Csus2) x 2

Verse 2

G D/F#

That espresso I ordered is cooling,

Em7 G/B Csus2

I guess I got lost in my thoughts

G D/F# Em7 G/B

The book that I brought is just sitting by the napkin

D Dsus4 Csus2

That the nice Starbucks waitress just brought

Em7 Csus2

To my table with a smile and a notepad

Em7 Csus2

‘How’s the coffee, do you fancy a bite?’

G D/F# Em7 G/B

But even the offer of millionaire shortbread

Doesn’t keep me from being,

Csus2 D G

lonely in Starbucks to-night.

Verse 3

G D/F#

I nibble the edge of my shortbread

Em7 G/B Csus2

As I down the es-presso in one

G D/F# Em7 G/B

Before noticing that trying to do both at the same time was,

D Csus2

in a simple word, dum!

Em7 Csus2

So I'm trying to mop up my lap now,

Em7 Csus2

While wringing out my favourite book

G D/F# Em7

Yet I’m still feeling lonely in Starbucks,

G/B Csus2 D G

Especially now with all these funny looks...

(Spoken: Hey, what’re you looking at? Never seen a guy wearing his coffee?)

Verse 4

G D/F#

So I’m sitting here in my Starbucks

Em7 G/B Csus2

All toasty, though little bit damp

G D/F# Em7

With a piping hot caramel mac-achi-ato, mach-iato, mac-a-hee-yato,


coffee beside me

D Dsus4 Csus2

my loyalty card all rubber stamped.

Em7 Csus2

And though the chair to my right is still vacant

Em7 Csus2

It won’t be long before she re-turns

G D/F# Em7

And we can once again share that cappu-cino


Ameri-cano, frapuccino, mocha-frocka-lato

Csus2 D G D/F# Csus2

or what-ever one it is that she yearns fo-----or

G D/F# Csus2 G

that she yearns for-----or

TheWeeScottie---------------------------------------------------------------weird is just your own personal brand of normal

Friday, May 28, 2010

I preached to myself

I preached to myself

So I preached to myself
and the Word came out:
"Be still, and know that I am God."
And I chose to be still and to listen, and look
Again I preached to my weary soul
and the Word came again:
"Why are you downcast, oh my soul?"
Your hope is rooted in him
And my soul was comforted and lifted
Once more I preached to myself
and the Word came again,
"Those who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength" -
spread your wings and soar.
And I rose, and went.

TheWeeScottie---------------------------------------------------------------weird is just your own personal brand of normal

Saturday, April 17, 2010

Trusting as a conscious choice

Trust. It's a word we use daily and often with very good reason. I might trust that a friend will keep their word and meet me for lunch, or that the postman will arrive on time (though that's sometimes more of a hope!). When it comes to trust their is a reason why we trust. It is based on fact, on something we firmly believe, on evidence. I trust that my friend will keep their word and meet me for lunch because they have either met me for lunch previously or our friendship is such that their word is bond. As for the postman, we are blessed with a prompt postie and it's a rare occurrence when we have to set the cats on him. But this is an interesting point that I think we often stop at when it comes to trust, especially when it comes to trusting God.

We base our trust on the fact of a situation - such as the bedrock of the relationship or familiarity of a situation. Take the example of a difficult situation, say being made redundant. It's very easy to say to somebody 'trust God with this situation, he can strengthen you through it. He'll provide what you need.' Now first of all, there's awesome truth there which we mustn't forget: God will strengthen you through difficult situations and he daily provides what we need to sustain us. However, it is very easy to stop there. With the fact that God is capable of providing, or supporting, or sustaining through his strength and providence. But trust is a conscious choice that we must make. To simply presume that God will do something because he is capable of doing it cheapens the beautiful conversational relationship that God invites us into by reducing that relationship to that of a patient coming to a doctor for help when he feels he needs it.

The Casting Crowns song 'Voice of truth' puts it simply and beautifully when it says 'I will choose to listen and believe the voice of truth.' Choosing to listen, to believe, to trust is an active ongoing choice. Going back to the analogy of the friend coming for lunch, if you really do trust they'll turn up for lunch, you plan to get there on time (though not vital), pitch up and wait for them. You trust they will turn up, and you show that trust by acting on it consciously, allowing them time to turn up or let you know plans have had to change.

When it comes to trusting God, it is easy to recite passages about who God is, about how he strengthened biblical characters like Gideon at Jericho and Paul and Barnabus as they went around, but if we aren't consciously acting on what we know of God, working, striving, persevering in our situation, then that trust is a hollow statement of fact. A hollow chocolate egg - looking all sweet and inviting on the outside, but no real substance on the inside.

Going back to the example of being made redundant, and I appreciate that background and situation - single/married, renting/mortgage/owned - alter the human side of things, but God remains the same father, provider and shepherd that he's always been. You're reminded by friends that God will provide for you (true) and that he will strengthen you through the tough times ahead (also very true, praise God!). There's the fact, God will provide & God will strengthen you. Now comes the conscious choice in trusting. In the film 'Facing the giants', the illustration is given of 2 farmers being told during a drought that God would provide rain for their fields. They both said they trusted he would, however one farmer ran out into his fields and began digging at the arid earth and planting seeds. The 2nd farmer shouts out after him 'what are you doing?!' To which the 1st farmer replies, 'Preparing for rain.' The question I feel when it comes to trusting God is, 'If you trust God will provide the rain you need, are you preparing for it?' I thought about this recently with applying for jobs and was reminded that trusting that God will provide the right job for the coming academic year, my trusting him is consciously worked out in applying for jobs, preparing the ground for rain, setting my heart on God providing for my needs. If God's going to open a door, he certainly doesn't call us to sit on our behinds and wait for a door to open - he expects us to start knocking!

As you're sitting enjoying a cup of coffee, your friend phones up as you sit in the cafe and lets you know that something's come up and your coffee's going to have to be rescheduled for tomorrow. Part of you may be sad, maybe even annoyed that your coffee meet-up's been cancelled, but your trust in your friend shouldn't have been dented. They remain trustworthy, and your relationship you have with them ensures that next time you'll look forward to meeting them with the same trust and anticipation as today. Circumstances change, but they remain the same. And circumstances will change, but if we consciously choose to trust, then find wonderful satisfaction and peace in acting in the knowledge that they will make that cup of coffee with you. It may be at their home, or at a different coffee bar. It may be on a different day and become lunch rather than coffee, but it'll happen.

Are we willing to allow God's provision and good will to be flexible, knowing he's good? We're called to know him, and the more you read his word the more you get to know him, and act and make decisions consciously trusting that he will act. Be a David to the world's Goliath.



weird is just your own personal brand of normal

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

Song: Phoenix

Song: Phoenix
(No tune/chords yet, any suggestions greatly appreciated!)

born from the ashes
everything burnt away
leaving only potential
infinite possibility
remade in a whisper
re-created to be
dazzling to the soul and eye;
phoenix reborn.

Verse 1
I am dust
nothing left og what I was
dust stirring
to the warmth of your breath
life breathing, something´s changing
a heart transplant in the soul
this dust has been renewed
right through the whole.

Verse 2
Body soaring
on wings I didn´t have before
spirit lifted
by this wind that holds me up
Spirit speaking
move this heart to steer my course
blaze a trail
with this new-born fire in me.

Verse 3
Edged with fire
these wing tips scorch the air
no longer dullness
but brightness holds me here
holds me steady
while others flock to see
and wonder
at the change inside of me.

Verse 4
New skies opened
fresh paths cleared before
horizons beckon
now these wings are clipped no more
and eyes will watch
some in wonder, some in scorn
as this ball of dust
grasps the choice to be reborn.



weird is just your own personal brand of normal

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Live it, love it, show it

A response to Cat's recent post on fascinating people to the gospel:

Live it, love it, show it

Help us hold out your love
on our tattered sleeves
reach your cry of love
to a world that screams
for a better way
and a better life,
when the hope that they need
is in the love of Christ.
Give us eyes to see
a hope beyond this world
not a fleeting note
but a truth foretold
which makes tempting things,
possessions, fade away
next to the satisfaction
of a life that's today,
and tomorrow, and on
through the highs and the lows
using trials and joys
to bring praise to his throne,
giving all up to him,
laying all at his feet,
shouting the message of truth
that can never be beat.
Living radical lives
where Jesus comes first,
living acts of mad love & joy,
sharing His thirst
for the dirty, the outcasts,
the hurting and lost,
the rich and the poor,
proud, angry and cursed,
overflowing with love,
living grace out each day
and not caring a jot
what the neighbours might say
but satisfied fully in Christ,
and no less.
Help us shoulder our cross,
and joyfully, hold out your best.



weird is just your own personal brand of normal

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

At the top of the stairs stands a monster

As you read the poem, do you know the secret identity of the monster?

At the top of the stairs stands a monster

At the top of the stairs stands a monster
A towering, monsterous fiend.
Its eyes glow with malice and menace
Its hair lies unkempt and unclean.

The foul smelling scent of old undies
Wafts pungent and stale down the stairs
A gnarly old grin shows off sickening teeth
So be sharp, don’t get caught unawares!

Those two swarthy arms hold a basket
Filled with the evilest stinks
And up from that pit drifts a terrible stench
Which, believe me’s far worse than you think!

The beastie rears up on its hind legs
Resting on pink hairy pads
Each of its claws, counting twenty in all,
Are disgustingly clipped and unclad.

Gulping, in sight of the monster
I’m doomed for, it’s safe to assume,
The beastie breathes in and, with terrible force, cries out
‘Thomas! Go tidy your room!’



weird is just your own personal brand of normal

Monday, February 15, 2010

If all the world were candyfloss

One for the kids, though don't ask me where it came from!

If all the world were candyfloss

If all the world were candyfloss,

I think I’d have quite a task

To stop myself from eating

Everyone that I walked past

I’d try to get to school

But by the time I reached the gates

I’d have eaten up the bus driver

And maybe Mrs Yates.

Imagine if you could guzzle down teachers,

Now wouldn’t that be cool?!

By morning break I’d probably

Have eaten half the school.

And in that scary staff-room,

I’d lick my lips and say

“if you don’t make break 3 hours long,

I’ll gobble you up right away!”

I’d walk right into libraries

And wander down the isles,

And if someone told me to ‘shush’

I’d gobble them up in a smile!

As I strolled along the highstreet,

I’d much on lamp posts too,

And knowing my luck, whether panther or duck

The animals in the zoo!

And just imagine, on the hills,

All of those cows and sheep!

It’d be just like those fairground stalls

With cotton candy treats!

But most of all I think I’d like

To eat my parents up.

After they always ask

To help them to clean up.

So tell me, adults in your chairs

and don't be mad or cross,

aren't you glad this wonderful world's

not made of candy floss?



weird is just your own personal brand of normal

Saturday, January 30, 2010


I really like how God can do many things when you make time to spent with him. He could remind you of a simple fundamental truth, which he might then lovingly clobber you over the head with. And sometimes you're just left humbly reminded about who he is. Like David in the Psalms (all those songs in the middle of the bible) song and poetry can be the outcome to reflecting on who God is. This morning that was the case. Here's what came out:

A meditation on Ephesians 4 v 28-32

No longer may my thieving hands take that
which honest hands have toiled, working for,
but my I 'stead take tool to hand and work
that generosity may grace my door.
And my my mouth not hold those words which may
corrupt and taint the sum of all around,
but only such is good for building up
that grace be given fresh and comfort found.
And above all to grieve the Spirit nought,
if through his precious blood I have been bought.



weird is just your own personal brand of normal