SOUL SURMISE

WE WILL REMEMBER THEM ( I WONDER WHEN]

Remembrance Day 2023... Gaza is in flames... Russia and Ukraine are at war... those who sacrificed themselves in the World Wars of the Twentieth Century might have thought that they had ended all wars... sadly not.

 

We will remember them

I wonder when

We will only ever honour the lost

When we find an end

 

The dark

The mud

The pain

The blood

The fear

The breath

The terror

The death

 

We will remember them

We will turn out the lights

But hear the cries of the dying

Echo back through the night

Still we kill our children

Say its for our children’s sake

But we can never sing of victory

In the ricochet of a wake

We argue over who is right

We fight over who is wrong

Nobody should ever raise a flag

Until everybody belongs

For every unknown grave

Should be marked with “OUR INSANITY”

No one’s ever won a war

War keeps murdering our humanity. 

 

We will remember them

I wonder when

We will only ever honour the lost

When we find an end.

 

Remembrance Day 2023... Gaza is in flames... Russia and Ukraine are at war... those who sacrificed themselves in the World Wars of the Twentieth Century might have thought that they had ended all wars... sadly not.

 

We will remember them

I wonder when

We will only ever honour the lost

When we find an end

 

The dark

The mud

The pain

The blood

The fear

The breath

The terror

The death

 

We will remember them

We will turn out the lights

But hear the cries of the dying

Echo back through the night

Still we kill our children

Say its for our children’s sake

But we can never sing of victory

In the ricochet of a wake

We argue over who is right

We fight over who is wrong

Nobody should ever raise a flag

Until everybody belongs

For every unknown grave

Should be marked with “OUR INSANITY”

No one’s ever won a war

War keeps murdering our humanity. 

 

We will remember them

I wonder when

We will only ever honour the lost

When we find an end.

BONFIRES - A PRAYER

 

God, toxic fumes fills the air of my city

Sectarian vitriol rising

We pile pallets of hatred upon hatred

And dehumanise

Blackening the smoke off bonfires

As our badness suffocates cultural rights

We incinerate flags

Flags that symbolise nations of people

People all equally loved by you

Jesus sacrificing himself for the world

Every flag

God forgive.

 

And God,

Before we point fingers

In self righteous arrogance

Send your Spirit to search us

To see the toxic vitriol 

And ungodly divisions

Within your Church

Between Churches

Blasphemous schism

God forgive our intolerance

The impoverishment of "love thy neighbour"

The absence of relationship

That Jesus’ good news models

God forgive us.

 

God, start with me

Interrogate

Investigate the Northern Irish DNA in my soul

Thran

Holier than thou infallibility

Devil’s speed to judge, exclude and damn

God, if words could kill

I would need a licence

God forgive.

 

God, be faithful and just to forgive

Give us empathy and compassion

Wisdom to deny self 

Courage to carry our cross

To love our enemies, 

Do good to those who hate us,

Bless those who curse us.

Pray for those who ill treat us

Purify our cultural rights

To be about joy in our celebration

And not fear in the hearts of others 

God forgive us.

LOVE IS MORE THAN THIS HAPPY DAY

(using this today at the wedding of Sophie Trinder to Josh Butler... I wrote it for Janice and I after our wedding... but have changed it to the second person to make it fit for weddings...)

 

You've got a circle of gold on my finger

It speaks of promises and trust

Seems love doesn't last too long these days

This ring reminds you that yours must

And if everything burns down around you

And if everyone is falling apart

The vows you made and the prayers you prayed

Should give resilience to your fragile hearts

So go and spend some time together

Now you’ve made that time forever

Lift each other when you’ve been knocked down

Rebuke each other when you’re just not clever

Go and be partners in every waltz

Be companions down through the mystery

Each other’s hope through headline news

And touches of grace in times of misery

Go to dry each other’s tears

Hold hands as you share your sorrow

And remember that love is more than this happy day

It's the hard work of tomorrow

LIGHT UP, LIGHT UP (WHEN BELFAST SINGS TOGETHER)

(A Belfast crowd singing Run at a Snow Patrol gig... #proud)

 

Chest of a city stuck out

To fuel the filling of lungs

No sound ever sounds sweeter

Than the unity of our Belfast tongues

All hands held up to carry

The weight of homecoming pride

We should make it the national anthem

And pray this oneness never subsides.

 

As the smart phone candles flicker

Reach your melancholy hand across

Feel melody swathe and sooth your soul

In the sad space of our loss

Let the verse suck in our pain

The chorus breathe out our grief

Then that tender thrumming riff

Throw out flecks of light and belief

 

So, in my time of dying

When my body doesn’t have long

Let our souls run, run for our lives

And one last time, sing this song…

 

“Light up, light up

As if you had a choice

Even if you cannot hear my voice

I’ll be right beside you dear.” *

 

* lines in italics from Snow Patrol's song Run

 

DISCOVERING FOR EVERMORE (for our 27th Anniversary)

Emotion in the scenic bombardment

Islands and inlets fill our windscreen

This sacred space, our home place

Oh why have we never been

We stand still and cock our ears

In silence, our eager eyes peeled

Are these the teasing games of God

Conjuring a daily new reveal

 

Trying to take in Marble Hill

With a tiny camera phone screen

We put them both back in our pocket

Click our souls on the hallowed scene

Not seeking we found a secret

That this is where the angels land

Right here in this other place

We saw them laid out on the strand

 

The entire beach now ours alone

The wonder catchers swoop on the waves

Late evening sand is swept like new

I believe the big world’s been saved

An old net breaking on the rocks

It looks like everything is free

We laugh with secrets no one knows

Just you, my darling, and me

 

And then in your silhouette

I caught a little beauty I’d missed before

Got excited that there was even more

Of your heart to adore

Of your soul to explore

May we be discovering for evermore.

DONEGAL - RESTFUL FROM SOIL TO DEEPEST SOUL

Donegal 

From the Irish, meaning

“Restful from soil to deepest soul”

Well, it isn’t 

But it should be.

 

Is it the space between the grace notes

Between the waterfalls and what poets wrote

Between the drifting sky and the lie of the land

Between what the day brings and the second hand

Between ancient ways and the comforts of now

Between the holy sabbath and fulfilling the vow

Between the golden sands and the flowing air

Between the celtic blessing and the worshipper’s prayer

Is it the space between the grace notes

Between heaven’s dreaming and what this place evokes

 

 

Donegal 

From the Irish, meaning

“Restful from soil to deepest soul”

Well, it isn’t 

But it should be.

THOUGHTS ON GRIEF

My Uncle Bert passed away last night (December 18, 2020). He was my dad's brother and I never remember a time when he wasn't in my life. My earliest memories have him in them. He was maybe my favourite human being. He was warm and funny, laid back and loyal. He loved me so much. I've heard the cliche but I can honestly say that our world is worse for him not being in it. 

I wrote this poem some time after my mum passed away. It was a combination of thoughts people shared and things I learned about grief. Here it is and then I explain it.

It is for so many others that I know who are grieving at the moment. 

 

I’m the reed by the lough shore

That suddenly swishes and sways

The deep fibres ripped from root

And all that I know gives way.

 

Culture shock silently creeping

I’m trying to track where’s next

It’s not that I don’t understand

But I cannot cue the context.

 

I know your mouth is moving

And I am here, I’m listening

It’s not that I cannot hear you

It’s the relevance that I’m missing

 

Being still to know that God is God

Working out, who now I am

Surmising where this wouldn't sting 

Crazy dreams of lions and lambs

 

Melancholy melodies salve a soul

Piano strings of redemption ring

That beautiful piece of heartache

As Karin like an angel sings

 

Be gentle on yourself, my soul

Walk the valley right on through

Stretch your hand in the loving direction

To the hand reaching out for you.

 

Let me take the poem one verse at a time..

 

I’m the reed by the lough shore

That suddenly swishes and sways

The deep fibres ripped from root

And all that I know gives way.

My friend Heather Carey shared this one. The fibres of the reed ripped out. It is the best description of the loss of a parent or I imagine a spouse. It is like your world shakes. Head, heart, soul and body sway. You keel over. You are blown over. 

 

Culture shock silently creeping

I’m trying to track where’s next

It’s not that I don’t understand

But I cannot cue the context.

I have experience culture shock in different places. I have lived for months in Africa and North America. It is always one of disorientation. It is like the compass you take for granted is broken. Your next move is blurred.

 

I know your mouth is moving

And I am here, I’m listening

It’s not that I cannot hear you

It’s the relevance that I’m missing

There is a lot of chatter around funerals. There are so many kind words. So many stories, some remembered and many never heard before. It is a helpful part of grieving. BUT there are times that people are chattering, filling the uncomfortable silences and it all seems so irrelevant. 

 

Being still to know that God is God

Working out, who now I am

Surmising where this wouldn't sting 

Crazy dreams of lions and lambs

God… and hope… Psalm 46 encourages us to know God in the midst. Emmanuel (along with grace) is my favourite word - God with us. In Psalm 46 God is the solid ground as everything else shifts and quakes. 

But also… who I am? When mum died I was a motherless child. With dad’s passing an orphan. With Uncle Bert I feel like a balloon no longer moored to my past. It stings but the audacious hope of eternity soothes.

 

Melancholy melodies salve a soul

Piano strings of redemption ring

That beautiful piece of heartache

As Karin like an angel sings

As everyone know knows me knows. Music is a conduit of the Spirit… of healing… of making sense. With my mum it was my friend Karin Bergquist (and Linford!) from Over The Rhine who whispered into my soul. With dad it has been Doug Gay’s suite of songs about his dad’s passing, Life After Death. Catharsis in songs - powerful.

 

Be gentle on yourself, my soul

Walk the valley right on through

Stretch your hand in the loving direction

To the hand reaching out for you.

So many people shared those “Be gentle with yourself” words when mum died. I think that I have spent the years trying to work out what they mean… and then how to do it. They are such wise words. Essential words. Grief is heavy and exhausting. Hiding away and resting is so helpful as we come to terms with loss.

And Janice’s hand is still the place where I find sense and some kind of healing… a tangible conduit to the Holy Spirit's comfort. 

My Uncle Bert passed away last night (December 18, 2020). He was my dad's brother and I never remember a time when he wasn't in my life. My earliest memories have him in them. He was maybe my favourite human being. He was warm and funny, laid back and loyal. He loved me so much. I've heard the cliche but I can honestly say that our world is worse for him not being in it. 

I wrote this poem some time after my mum passed away. It was a combination of thoughts people shared and things I learned about grief. Here it is and then I explain it.

It is for so many others that I know who are grieving at the moment. 

 

I’m the reed by the lough shore

That suddenly swishes and sways

The deep fibres ripped from root

And all that I know gives way.

 

Culture shock silently creeping

I’m trying to track where’s next

It’s not that I don’t understand

But I cannot cue the context.

 

I know your mouth is moving

And I am here, I’m listening

It’s not that I cannot hear you

It’s the relevance that I’m missing

 

Being still to know that God is God

Working out, who now I am

Surmising where this wouldn't sting 

Crazy dreams of lions and lambs

 

Melancholy melodies salve a soul

Piano strings of redemption ring

That beautiful piece of heartache

As Karin like an angel sings

 

Be gentle on yourself, my soul

Walk the valley right on through

Stretch your hand in the loving direction

To the hand reaching out for you.

I SEE IT STILL SAYS NO! (I DROVE BACK INTO BELFAST)

 

I drove back into Belfast

I see it still says no

Anyone sowing the seeds of love

Should be told they never grow

The times, are they-a changing

Because it seems too much the same

Past their sell by date ideologies

Holding all of us in chains

The homeless dying on the streets

While the charities rattle their tins

Preacher shouting for others to repent

Ignoring his very own sins.

 

I drove back into Belfast

Forgetting that it never forgets

Steals, kills, destroys itself

Where's the blessing of regret

The comedians can be prophetic

And the politicians risible

Long waiting lists and Foodbanks

For protocols and principles

A new face to the skyline

It shines in all its splendour

But souls inside seem old and cold

The futility of 'No Surrender'

 

'Love thy neighbour as thyself'

Authorised verse that never applies

I surmise is it not a compromise

Not to compromise.

 

I wrote this in the early 90s when I used to drive back into Belfast from Dublin where I lived from 1991 to 1994. 

Belfast was stuck. It was pretty hopeless.

Brian Gormley wrote a great tune and made it a song. 

I found it this week and was sad how it still might be a relevant blog. I believe we have moved a long way since 1994 BUT we have still such a long long way to go. I rewrote a few lines...

 

DRESS MY DREAMS IN DENIM

Down by the edge of the ocean

I’m splashing with a laughing child

Dancing in the joy she brings me

She has her mother’s eyes

Then in the moonlight evening

I hold her mother tight

Discerning minds and burning hearts

Through the shadows and the light.

 

I’m going to dress my dreams in denim

And I’m going to work for what is true

With one eye on forever

I’m going to see this vision through.

 

Intolerance and arrogance

Give way to divergent unity

Those who have give those who need

In a loving community

Vision becoming crystal clear

Dressed in purist white

The groom delights at the altar

In the beauty of his bride.

 

I’m going to dress my dreams in denim

And I’m going to work for what is true

With one eye on forever

I’m going to see this vision through.

 

Bars of steel and stigma

Fall away before the just

The needy not only want no more

They’ve also learned to trust

And every colour’s neutral

The streets give up their names

My people learn to love my people

Where we are all the same.

 

I’m going to dress my dreams in denim

And I’m going to work for what is true

With one eye on forever

I’m going to see this vision through.

 

I was scanning old blogs and came across this poem from the very early 1990s. 

It started with a Charles Swindoll quotation from a book I had bought in Toronto as far back as 1979. The idea of dressing your dreams in denim really caught my imagination. Denim. Denim was my identity. I wore it all the time much to my poor mother's chagrin. I was a child of the 60s - hippy scruff. I would even end up getting married in denim!

Denim, as Swindoll pointed out, was the cloth of work. Indeed, the first person I ever remember wearing denims was my uncle Bert. He was a carpenter and his dungarees always told me that he was working.

I used this phrase a lot in my work with young people that was the concentration of my vocation in my 20s and early 30s. 

This poem however is very much subjective. I am living in Dublin. My years in Dublin from 1991 to 1994 were so formative. I got out of the often too restrictive Northern evangelical pressures. I was able to take space to think through my faith for myself. I was discovering something wider, higher and deeper than what I had known. This was very much a mission statement, a vision for my life as a follower of Jesus and a commitment to it.

What amazes me as I read it tonight is how detailed it is on the thirty years that would follow it. It is even hard to believe that my wife and daughters are some years away. If I wrote it now I would understand but I cannot believe that my 30 year old self was well enough rounded to be so clear about where my following of Jesus was going to take me. 

Even more interesting is that it both describes my last thirty years and is also statement of faith that I need to waken up and recommit to every day of my early 60s. Oh vocationally I will be ever committed to this pragmatic outworking of my faith. I guess job wise there will come a time when I need to ask do I want to put those work clothes on anymore. 

 

Down by the edge of the ocean

I’m splashing with a laughing child

Dancing in the joy she brings me

She has her mother’s eyes

Then in the moonlight evening

I hold her mother tight

Discerning minds and burning hearts

Through the shadows and the light.

 

I’m going to dress my dreams in denim

And I’m going to work for what is true

With one eye on forever

I’m going to see this vision through.

 

Intolerance and arrogance

Give way to divergent unity

Those who have give those who need

In a loving community

Vision becoming crystal clear

Dressed in purist white

The groom delights at the altar

In the beauty of his bride.

 

I’m going to dress my dreams in denim

And I’m going to work for what is true

With one eye on forever

I’m going to see this vision through.

 

Bars of steel and stigma

Fall away before the just

The needy not only want no more

They’ve also learned to trust

And every colour’s neutral

The streets give up their names

My people learn to love my people

Where we are all the same.

 

I’m going to dress my dreams in denim

And I’m going to work for what is true

With one eye on forever

I’m going to see this vision through.

 

I was scanning old blogs and came across this poem from the very early 1990s. 

It started with a Charles Swindoll quotation from a book I had bought in Toronto as far back as 1979. The idea of dressing your dreams in denim really caught my imagination. Denim. Denim was my identity. I wore it all the time much to my poor mother's chagrin. I was a child of the 60s - hippy scruff. I would even end up getting married in denim!

Denim, as Swindoll pointed out, was the cloth of work. Indeed, the first person I ever remember wearing denims was my uncle Bert. He was a carpenter and his dungarees always told me that he was working.

I used this phrase a lot in my work with young people that was the concentration of my vocation in my 20s and early 30s. 

This poem however is very much subjective. I am living in Dublin. My years in Dublin from 1991 to 1994 were so formative. I got out of the often too restrictive Northern evangelical pressures. I was able to take space to think through my faith for myself. I was discovering something wider, higher and deeper than what I had known. This was very much a mission statement, a vision for my life as a follower of Jesus and a commitment to it.

What amazes me as I read it tonight is how detailed it is on the thirty years that would follow it. It is even hard to believe that my wife and daughters are some years away. If I wrote it now I would understand but I cannot believe that my 30 year old self was well enough rounded to be so clear about where my following of Jesus was going to take me. 

Even more interesting is that it both describes my last thirty years and is also statement of faith that I need to waken up and recommit to every day of my early 60s. Oh vocationally I will be ever committed to this pragmatic outworking of my faith. I guess job wise there will come a time when I need to ask do I want to put those work clothes on anymore. 

BIG MOMENTS (For Rich Mullins October 21, 1955 – September 19, 1997)

I had had the wonderful privilege of hanging out with Rich Mullins in our home in Dublin, 78 Eaton Wood Green an address that became the title of an instrumental on his album A Liturgy, A Legacy and A Ragamuffin Band. Later there would be times in Windowrock, Arizona and Wichita, Kansas. Finally back here in Ireland at Summer Madness.

He was already a CCM star when I first heard him sing in our front room in Eaton Wood Green. His voice grabbed my attention and then the words of a brand new song:

 

And the coal trucks come a-runnin'
With their bellies full of coal
And their big wheels a-hummin'
Down this road that lies open like the soul of a woman
Who hid the spies who were lookin'
For the land of the milk and the honey

 

Wow. I was utterly captivated. A poet in the world of Contemporary Christian Music was rare and Rich rose above them all. Next up he sang Here In America:

 

And if you listen to my songs I hope you hear the water falling
I hope you feel the oceans crashing on the coast of north New England
I wish I could be there just to see them, two summers past I was
And the Holy King of Israel loves me here in America

 

Goodness me! I spent the next few years discovering Rich's music and loving those little moments in his company. 

When he was killed on a car crash 25 years ago today I was devastated. We had talked about me booking him for Greenbelt and had agreed that we'd leave it for a year. It would never happen. 

To make sense of it I wrote Big Moments and still stand by it as a poem.

 

BIG MOMENTS (For Rich Mullins October 21, 1955 – September 19, 1997) 

There are big moments of grace
And times when saints come to touch us
Chance meetings that seem so meant to be
Coincidences far too obvious
And I can hear the water falling
The ocean crash on New England’s shore
The brown brick spine of some dirty brown alley
The shaving that fell on the carpenter’s floor
I can feel the hammer dulcimer move me
That voice proclaim truth and love
Giving me glimpses and clues of this life on earth
And inklings of the promise above
Just a speck upon my time line
That the son caught to make shine bright
Such big, big moments in tiny seconds
Leaving me to follow in your traces of light
How I longed to spend more time with you
Maybe someday that time will come
You left a legacy to think on til then
Thoughts to fill my life and then some
Someone said that you know a saint
By how alive they make you feel
Not by how much they show to you
But by how little they conceal
You left us with broken hearts and souls
Our hope is feebly trying to temper it
We lost so much more than skin and bone
You are the world as best as I remember it.