Father, help me to see the church as it should be
Not as it is now, but as you see.
No longer regard people from a human point of view
See with God’s eyes how we will be made anew.
See the bursts of glory all around
Exchange the errors for the profound.
See the potential in others; sin in myself
Forgive, forget, restore back to health.
“Bless others”, He says, “as you have been blessed”
“Unconditionally, relentlessly, indiscriminately”, I confessed.
Back in January I shared this message to Carnoustie Community Church on Psalm 33. I hope you enjoy it as we see God the Artist, Planner & Rescuer.
A poem for Mother’s Day 6th March 2016:
Look carefully and you will see her
Stand still and observe her motion
The quiet mover behind all scenes,
The listening, the watching, the devotion
The patient mother of her growing brood
The unthanked scrubber of muddy boots
Her arms all embracing, mind all worrying
The silent waterer of young spring’s shoots
Summer days bring worry and cares
their trousers are too short, days too long
She is the counsellor pointing the way
But to them her advice seems all wrong
A new life beckons as saplings grow
Autumn brings nests that are bear
“Who is she now?”, she asks herself
She must pray and trust in His care
The years stretch on, the snow falls strong
In winter’s silence she hears a cry
A call from a mother, once a child
It all comes back in the blink of an eye
A poem for my 40th birthday (today)…
57 MINUTES:
If a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day.
Then all these 40 years to you, are just 57 minutes along the way.
If my life is seen through your eyes, looking at time as you do.
Not even an hour has passed since I was born, since all was new.
All these years that seem so long to me are a blink in the divine eye.
All these memories are like a bolt of lightening shooting across the sky.
44 minutes is my experience of you, my new birth into your family.
21 minutes together with my wife, 15 minutes as a dad so happily.
8 minutes living in this house, 5 minutes going to Aberdeen.
Minutes so busy no time to rest, just a few seconds in between.
57 minutes in your eternal existence, less than a lunch break.
Just 4 percent of 1000 years, length of a film, give or take.
They say life begins at 40, but the beginner of Life died at 33.
His 47 minutes were given as a sacrifice, dying for you and for me.
So don’t count the minutes that collect, but the moments that last.
And however minutes you have, hold those you love fast.
For one day these minutes will be drops in the infinite ocean.
And what will count will be your love for Him and devotion.
Not long to wait now, the day when time passes away.
And all our years become tiny steps along the way.
That moment when all of our minutes are done.
And He turns and says in love “Welcome home, my son”.
“But do not forget this one thing, dear friends; with the Lord a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years is like a day.” 2 Peter 3.8
“Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom” Psalm 90.12
wrote this poem yesterday as a message to my friends and family at Christmas time. Little did I realise what was happening in Glasgow and how prophetic it would be. My heart is broken for the families who have been bereaved and are in shock at this terrible accident. I dedicate this small, insignificant poem to them…The child does not question the milk
The lover doesn’t fixate on the why
The flower doesn’t ask what if
The puppy never asks how long
In our seeking can we forget the destination?
In our waiting can we forget the signposts?
In the finding do we question the giver?
In our trusting do we need an answer?
To know the road to take but not the length to be travelled
To know the direction to seek but not the landmarks
To trust you go before and beside and within us
To want, to desire, to hunger, to yearn
To long for the King, not noticing the kingdom
To gaze into your eyes not counting the time
To find you in the journey, not the destination
To trust you for the timing and forsake my plan
To rest in your presence
To share in your love
To bless one another
To become one
Be of one purpose thankful
Be in his presence together
Be with his people thirsting
Be one Priesthood trusting
“Like newborn babies, crave pure spiritual milk, so that by it you may grow up in your salvation.” 1 Peter 2.2
A poem for Easter written during our 40 hours of prayer as part of the 24/7 prayer initiative. I hope it encourages you to find hope this Easter.
Hold on to hope
In the darkness when all is lost
When guilt and shame reveal their cost
Hold on to hope
Unnumbered souls hang by a thread
Look inside all strength is dead
Hold on to hope
Feeling so weak, so small, so frail
Writing my sins, hammering the nail
Hold on to hope
Millions lost in the barren land
Desperate for love, but no helping hand
Hold on to hope
Despair creeps and crawls over the walls
Give up, it’s too hard the Devil calls
Hold on to hope
Not much to give, not long to live
One life to live, one life to give
Hold on to hope
Just a fickle love and a messed up life
Worn with age, like a blunt knife
Hold on to hope
Your love Lord is greater than mine
You sent, you gave, you wait to shine
Hold on to hope
One at a time you send out the call
So quiet, so unnoticed by us all
Hold on to hope
Thousands saved every day
But not so many in the UK
Hold on to hope
Do here what you do elsewhere
That all may see that you really care
Hold on to hope
One day all will see your glory
Just Help us now to tell your story
Hold on hope
Revive us Lord, we are so cold
Make your people strong and bold
Hold on to hope
Take all the glory, it’s all down to you
Revive our nation and, our love renew
Hold on to hope
This is our prayer for our generation
A million lights causing a conflagration
Hold on to hope
A poem for our children for the pressure they face to conform and yield to social norms:
Be quiet, be quiet, don’t say a thing,
We are the wise, you are nothing
We are all fine, it’s you who are warped
Whatever you think, don’t say it out loud,
Be ashamed of yourself, so arrogant and proud
We are all fine, it’s you who are warped
Make your children be silent, teach them to be afraid
You’ve polluted their minds, their innocence betrayed
We are all fine it’s you who are warped
Speak up, be bold and you will see our hate
We will misrepresent you before you realise too late
We are all fine it’s you who are warped
We will twist what you said, grab you by the throat
Everyone will stare at the shameful scapegoat
We are all fine it’s you who are warped
You will be all alone, condemned by all
What good are your beliefs when you’re against the wall?
We are all fine it’s you who are warped
We are all dead now, alone in the dark
You are not here now, we miss you’re life spark
You are fine now, it’s we who are warped
“When he came near the place where the road goes down the Mount of Olives, the whole crowd of disciples began joyfully to praise God in loud voices for all the miracles they had seen: “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven and glory in the highest!” Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to Jesus, “Teacher, rebuke your disciples!” “I tell you,” he replied, “if they keep quiet, the stones will cry out.” Luke 19.37-40
I wrote this last night as I reflected on jumping back into the swirling, churning waters of life with a busy job, long commute and young family after having a two week holiday. Sometimes getting off the treadmill for a while makes it hard to jump back on!
For those of you Fathers out there with busy jobs and young families I hope you can relate to my feelings here, I wrote it for you.
Still and calm was the cold blue sea
I set sail with my hopes full and free
The lapping waves rocked away
I found it easy to watch and pray
The waves rolled on, pitching me down
Three offspring arrived spinning me round
The foam and spray splattered my face
Suddenly quiet times all over the place
Then came the storm, scary and fierce
A full on job, my lifejacket pierced
“Man overboard” I cry to the sky
Sinking down, I prepare to die
A hand reaches down, grabs onto mine
No longer alone, relief shoots down my spine
“It’s not in the hours you pray to me
It’s in the companionship we share out in the sea”
“Stop cursing yourself for things you can’t change
But rejoice you are called to such a vast range
I’m here all the time, take my hand fast
And together we’ll sail to our home at last”
Those of you who know the family will know that we received some tough news this past week. I wrote this poem this morning to describe how I feel at the moment. If you don’t know the Lord you might find it a bit morbid, but if you have walked with the Lord through fiery trials then I hope you will understand where I’m coming from:
Naked I stand
All is laid bare
No protection from you
I see you approach
Nearer you come
With love in your eyes
You reach for the knife
Raising it up
So plunge in the knife, a little deeper, a little deeper
So plunge in the knife, a little deeper, a little deeper
Its blade pierces deep
Cutting my flesh
I stagger and fall
All my strength gone
You reach out and catch me
Pulling me close
Mouth on mouth
You breathe in your life
So plunge in the knife, a little deeper, a little deeper
Feeling your touch, a little nearer, a little nearer
Weary I stagger
Feeling your strength
No longer afraid
There is nothing to fear
The pain is a friend
Drawing me near
It burns me inside
Washing me clean
So plunge in the knife, a little deeper, a little deeper
Filling my eyes, a little weaker, a little weaker
Making me live
Helping me feel
Nothing between us
You and I here
So plunge in the knife, a little deeper, a little deeper
Feeling your touch, a little nearer, a little nearer
Filling my eyes, a little weaker, a little weaker
Feeling your love, a little dearer, a little dearer
Thank you to all of you across Scotland and beyond for your prayers, encouragement and most of all love. We truly appreciate you and are humbled by your love and concern.
“That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” 2 Corinthians 12.10
“Though he slay me, yet will I hope in him” Job 13.15
“He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all—how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things?” Romans 8.32
