SOUL SURMISE

COVID 19 PRAYER #19

"The only thing you can pray for in this job is the strength to get through the day. You can try coffee if you want but prayer works better for me." - Jed Bartlett, West Wing

 

May you never feel anxious

May you not be stretched in your soul or mind

May you never feel useless

May you find chances to care and be kind

May you never feel empty

May your love fill every mile that you’re forced apart

May you never feel captured

May you fly free in the sky of your heart

 

May you always know protection

From the breathtaking hit of this virus

May you always know connection

The truth of Emmanuel God is with us

May you always know affection

A mysterious love filling up your room

May you always know resurrection

The hope of the momentary stone rolled from this tomb

 

I pray this Covid 19 prayer for you

I find prayer gets me through the day

Much better than coffee

And if you’re not the praying kind

I hope that you won’t mind

Just see it as a wish that I’m sending out your way.

IF WE GET THROUGH THIS...

I came down to Fitzroy one Sunday morning particularly frazzled. Now that is a regular scenario. Even after ten years I am still as nervous every single Sunday as I was on my very first day!

Anyway, I am not sure why this Sunday was worse than others. It must have been. A few elders pray with me before the service and as we gathered one of them, June Pat, asked me how I was.

June Pat", I said, "If we get through this, you can be sure that God exists".

As quick as a flash, June Pat replied, "Steve, I am sure that God exists, so we will get through this".

It was simple BUT it was brilliant. Since that morning, I have said those words to June Pat many times. I have even texted them to her from Uganda and America. Her response still brings me some assurance when I just need a word.

June Pat reminded me of our little mantra this morning. In these uncertain days of the Coronarvirus our little back and forth might be worth hanging on to.

 

"June Pat", I said,

"If we get through this

You can be sure that God exists"

"Steve," said June Pat,

I am sure that God exists 

So we will get through this".

 

 

 

MASQUERADE (SAM HILL JR) - FOR JANICE'S BIRTHDAY

A song for Janice's birthday. It is written and performed by Sam Hill Jr but from a lyric of mine. Sam and I went on to make an entire album - Grace Notes under the name Stevenson and Samuel.

My original lyric 73a Penwith Road is a love song for Janice when we going out together. She was living in London and the lyrics are based on pictures on the walls of Janice's flat and what I watched her do in love and hospitality.

Sam sang it with the help of Iain Archer, Miriam Kaufmann, Helen Killick and a Derryvolgie Student Choir as Janice came up the aisle at our wedding.

Here's the original poem. Happy birthday wonderful woman!

 

73A PENWITH ROAD

 

Where there's mist upon the lake

And painted African faces

Romantics in a field of poppies

And badgers on a thousand places

Smell the sweetness of her laughter

Of flowers on the window sill

Homemade cooking in the kitchen

Always much more than your fill

In the midst of all these changes

Memories time cannot erode

My heart discovered love right here

73A Penwith Road.

 

Where the arms of love are open

Hearts wider than the sky

Touching those who need a touch

Without ever asking why

Here the dance of her laughter

See the radiant sunshine smile

If you're pounded by the weary world

Sit down and rest a while

Feel the strength of gentleness

Come take your heavy load

I fly with freedom in my soul

73A Penrith Road.

 

 

Check out more Sam Hill Jr work here - https://samhilljr.co.uk

 

 

 

TIME (HAS WORN YOU OUT)

Today is my father's 86th birthday. His memory is long gone. I find it very hard. When I drive up to visit I ponder deep thoughts to help me deal with it. I often surmise on the uncatchable mystery yet reality of time. I wrote this.

 

Time is an invisible memory bank

Time leaves photographs counterfeit

Time turns and burns and churns

A tornado with nothing in control of it.

 

Time is a dance we do to its tune

Time is an artificial measuring space

Time it tumbles, rumbles and crumbles

A cage we make for us to pace.

 

Time is a capsule that is full of time

Time always seems to leak too fast

Time it breaks and cracks and takes

A hope of forever that never lasts.

 

Time has worn you out

Time has eroded your brain

Time has brought you down this cul-de-sac

With no turning circle back again.

 

Time if we could take it back

What time would we go back to

And if time took us back to there

What would I say to you

Would we use the word love

And would that word be enough.

 

Time.

FOR CAITLIN'S BIRTHDAY - A POEM I WROTE WHILE JANICE WAS IN LABOUR

Caitlin's 22nd birthday. This poem was written on hospital paper towels in the early hours of the morning, as we sat in the maternity ward waiting for her to appear. It later had a chorus added about Jasmine's birth and became the opening song on the Stevenson and Samuel (my collaboration with Sam Hill Jr) album Grace Notes. This is the original, as on the paper towels. Happy birthday Caitlin!

 

There's a bird on the roof below me

That knows nothing about buying things

About looking good or successful living

Or the ads a failed pop star sings

There's a tree moving in the breeze

Waiting for its buds to bloom

There's life confined to what life's about

Contracting in a mother's womb.

 

Two magpies are feeding their families

That's supposed to prophecy joy

But there isn't three and there isn't four

I don't know if you're a girl or a boy

But they're are oblivious to the sound of the Lisburn Road

They live far from the clutter and fuss

These noises we've made to distance our souls

From these things that are happening to us.

 

There's me and you and someone else

And love knitting the ties that bind

There's awe and wonder and fascination

And the blessings of this life of mine

I'm standing in this holy place

To gaze upon the world's most beautiful face

Leaning on the promises of Jesus grace

Licking my lips with just a sprinkle of its taste. 

FACTORY OF MAGNIFICENT SOULS - TO CELEBRATE 30 YEARS SINCE NELSON MANDELA'S RELEASE FROM PRISON

Thirty years ago today Nelson Mandela was released from prison. I remember it so well. I had been going out with Janice for only about six months and had no idea how much South Africa and Robben Island would become part of our lives. Yet, I remember on that day as I watched those last steps of the long walk to freedom that something good had happened to the world. I felt that feeling of justice. I wanted more of it.

Ten years later and I was taking students to Cape Town every other year to help build houses on the Townships. A small way to right those apartheid wrongs. We even got to meet FW De Klerk who released Mandela that day back in 1990.

It is hard to find words to describe how much I loved Nelson Mandela. I had the privilege of visiting Robben Island so many time and even got to get into his cell. Those visits to Robben Island were powerfully poignant, like walking on redeemed ground.

I wrote this after one trip and then when Iona asked to use it in a song I wrote another verse during another visit. I think it sums up all that is almost unbelievable about the man's humility, courage and grace. Jo Hogg sings it so well. Today as we celebrate Mandela's release, I send it out in celebration.

 

Thought of you on this island of the leper
Thought of you on this island of the mad
Thought of you on this island of the outcast
Thought of you on this island of the sick and sad

And no one ever asked questions
With marks as sharp as these
They pierced the veins of Jesus
Who was one of the least of these

Thought this island had a tragic holiness
Thought this island had a painful grace
Thought this island had the ugliest history
Thought this island was the most beautiful place

And no one ever gave an answer
With as gentle a word as this
You took the most violent indignation
And you killed it with a political kiss

Thought of you on this island of the limestone and the pain of dust torn eyes
Thought of you on this island of the convict toiling under the bluest skies
Looked upon this island of the reconciled,
And I saw a stone carved cross
Thought of you on this island of redemption,

Closed my eyes and thought about what that freedom had cost

I saw the altar of this world’s cruelty
I saw the stadium of the devils goals
I saw a man duck and weave the most evil punches
I saw a factory of magnificent souls.

BUILDING A CITY OF GRACE - a poem

BUILDING A CITY OF GRACE

(inspired by a song by Mike Scott called Building a City Of Light)

 

Spin out the yarn and weave potent surprise

Building a city of grace

Rivet the steel in tough willed compromise 

Building a city of grace

See the wonder of enemies through Jesus eyes

Building a city of grace

Rhyme poems and histories without lies

Building a city of grace

 

Saracens transforming into surgical beds

Building a city of grace

Bullets repenting into colouring lead

Building a city of grace

The guilty redeemed into contributors instead

Building a city of grace

Our feasts all sacrificed so the hungry are fed

Building a city of grace

 

In every building

On all our streets

Love the language

As neighbours greet

In prison yards

And Church retreats

Grace the force

When politicians meet

 

See the wonder of enemies through Jesus eyes

Building a city of grace

Rhyme poems and histories without lies

Building a city of grace.

NO ONE OUT OF REACH (as read in Hydebank College and Women's Prison)

I came across Jesus

Hanging on a cross

Carved in sand on a Spanish beach

His sparkling eyes

Cut through the dross

Like there was no one out of his reach.

COME, COME AWAY MY LOVE

I wrote this back around 1999. We had just bought a house in Ballycastle. I could not have imagined then how much these words would become truer and truer as the years went on. This last week we have lived this poem, word perfect. More of it, I say! 

It was included on an album I made with Sam Hill, called Grace Notes under the moniker Stevenson and Samuel. 

 

Come, come away my love

We'll find a cottage by the sea 

We'll hide from loving everyone

To seek to love you and me

Yes, let us head up north again

Slip off the beaten track

Find a place to rest our souls

And never look back.

 

And we'll gaze on the Mull of Kintyre

From the pillow of our mid morning bed

While the world is scanning TV stations

We'll walk the seas of Moyle instead

Stare in our daughters' mischievous eyes

And then lavish them with love

Watching them getting to know too much

And never getting to know enough

And we'll open other people's stories

Allow them to delve inside our souls

Reflect on the days of all that's gone

And re-focus on tomorrow's goals

Yes, we'll find a place for us to stop

To look, to listen and to learn

Allow our candle just a little flicker

Instead of that pressurised burn.

 

Come, come away my love

And let our love have its way

For love is full of satisfied

When it lies full of empty days.

I'M THINKING ABOUT CHRISTMAS (50 Words For Waiting) (for Mary and Lucia)

photo: Fiona McNeill

 

I’m thinking about Christmas

Too much for such a young girl

A big ask that God is asking

In this shuddering of our worlds

I’m thinking about Christmas

Eyes fixed on a brand new birth

I’m stumbling with the shepherds

To find that peace on earth.

 

Waiting

For hope and peace and joy and love

All the candles are lit

Waiting

For Hope and peace and joy and love

We keep praying for it

 

I’m thinking about Christmas

That strange medical ward

The danger and vulnerability

Has me whisper “oh my Lord”

I’m thinking about Christmas

And the twinkle of a light cast

A courageous cry in the dawning

As the past at last is past.

 

Waiting

For hope and peace and joy and love

All the candles are lit

Waiting

For Hope and peace and joy and love

We are praying for it

 

There should be 50 words for waiting

Waiting before and then until

Every time a waiting is over

There is another waiting hill

There should be 50 words for waiting

Wait, here’s another one

For the courage to wait along with

Until all the waiting is done.

 

Waiting

For hope and peace and joy and love

All the candles are lit.

 

Our dear friend Lucia is on an Air Ambulance tonight to Kings Hospital, London where a liver is  waiting for her. If all goes well she will have a transplant in the next number of hours. It will be Lucia's fourth. She is 20 years of age. She is an amazing young woman. Two years ago we celebrated with her as she received a British Empire Medal in the Queen's New Year Honour's List for her contribution to organ donation awareness. Lucia is an inspiration.

I have been preaching and blogging a lot about Mary this Advent and I began thinking of Lucia through Mary's experience. Lucia's father David always talks about the need for 50 words for waiting, just like it is said that the Inuit and Yupik people have 50 words for snow (and Kate Bush too!). Advent is about waiting. If you are the praying kind...

 

Photo: Jasmine Stockman