at the bottom of the glass at the end of the page whatever road you carry on with you’re gonna go on your own there’s nothing you take with you when you go down to the sorrows
sorrow burns my eyes tonight sorrow burns my eyes tonight cos beauty is born and dies in the sadness and i am sweetly blind stuck in the middle of coming and going stuck in the doorway of my trouble
if i leave you, i leave you when i go down, down to the darkness of sorrows blue light shining all around me trouble’s light and trouble’s woe all around me
at the bottom of the glass at the end of the page friend become a empty foe words slip off the pages fall unformed from my lips dark in the valley when i go down, down
sorrow burns my eyes tonight sorrow burns my eyes tonight cos beauty is born and dies in the sadness and i am sweetly blind stuck in the middle of coming and going stuck in the doorway of my trouble
in the land of sorrows light is blinding with a pinspot on my kindness every grace is sharpened against my skin for the blue light gathers in whatever is gained under the light you cannot keep can’t bring a soul with you cos they’ll never quite leave
This morning I logged onto Postsecret for my monday morning ritual (although sometimes, I do struggle to resist the urge on Sundays). This first postcard stopped me, floored me and brought me to tears. Whoever posted that couldn’t have known that they were sending it to me, but they did regardless.
A Dream. There are some days where I forget the sorrows hidden in my heart for a time. But the last few days have seen me on a slippery slope back to the grief of losing my longtime passion. Life still seems a bit senseless and even though I know that grieving takes time.. I’m guilty of trying to move too fast and keep up with everyone else who is moving on.
So I dreamed last night and I think it stands out as a dream that means more than what it’s letting on.
We were at a house, not just my friends but their families too. A big summer house with wide open windows that surveyed the gardens, all the way down to the river and the enormous tree within it. There was sunshine and goodness everywhere. Then a silver car drove past, an old style eighties cadillac with an old woman in it. She stopped the car, hung out the window and began screaming at us. She was yelling at the people next to me, and then she pulled out a gun, a big gleaming silver .45. She began shooting..
One person passing by fell in a heap, dead by the car. Another two people next to me, who I didn’t know fell as well. Another two shots missed, and then her final shot hit me in the side of the head, a glancing blow.
The bullet stuck, and I began to bleed. People rushed out to attend to the fallen. The woman in the car drove off. But no one saw I was bleeding. I went to the mirror and saw the bruise growing over my eye, and the blackened streak on my temple, the bullet, having struck bone, stopped in it’s tracks.
Eventually, amid protests, they finally called the police and ambulance, but nothing could be done for the fallen. I desperately tried to get help for my head, the swelling and pain overwhelming. The faces turned blank from friends to unknown. There was such an awful ache in my heart I could barely stand it.
After an age, I thought that I had run out of tears, my friend came to me. He saw the wound to my head that no one else had seen. His eyes reflected some of my pain and his own urgency. He examined every part of the wound and laid me down onto the grass of the valley. He placed himself beside me, cradling my head and told me he would take the bullet out.
I was terrified, but he asked me to trust him and that it had to be done. I, looking at him with fear and trembling, placed my whole life into his hands willingly and he removed the bullet. He pressed his hand to my head to stop the bleeding and spoke low, soft words of encouragement and hope to me.
My pain didn’t disappear, but it was shared for a moment. And then with surprise in his eyes, as well as mine, I died anyway.
“..because the keys to the Kingdom got locked inside the Kingdom..” “..i got a girl in the war and the only thing I know to do is turn up the music and pray that she makes it through..” “..and the angels fly around in there but we can’t see them..”
Calling… There are plenty of days when I find myself wishing that Auckland and Wellington shared more of the Space/Time Continuum, because finding myself in the middle of the same conversation at both ends of the island is refreshing and comforting. As if in response to my heartache in this weeks posts and musings of the last month, Sam posts here from his sermon notes of last week, including some precious thoughts, metaphors and quotes borrowed and gathered from all over.. devour with hope while listening to Josh.
Church Is Not The Destination.
In the gospels Jesus mentions the word Kingdom 121 times in 114 verses Church is mentioned 3 times in two verses
I think there is a misconception that the Church is the destination. Its such a small bandwidth.
When an airport confuses itself as the destination, it thinks its winning when all the planes are on the ground and the airport ground is just packed with people. Look how many people we have!
But every time it does that it screws up people’s lives. The Airport is a connector going to somewhere I want to go. People are meant to move through it, not stay put in it.
The Church is not the destination, it’s a connector getting people to where they really want to go. To life… its pointing to the Kingdom “I came to give you church, and church more abundantly”. I came to bring life. The role of the church is to proclaim the Kingdom. And the Kingdom brings life.
Furthermore on Art & Kingdom NT Wright: “When art comes to terms with both the wounds of the world and the promise of resurrection and learns how to express and respond to both at once, we will be on the way to fresh vision, a fresh mission”.
The kingdom is every act of love, gratitude, and kindness, every work of art or music inspired by the love God and the delight in the beauty of creation; every act of care and nuture, of comfort and support for others, all spirit led teaching, every prayer, every deed that embodies holiness rather than corruption, and makes the name of Jesus honoured in the world.
you search for love notes in the corners of my room hidden in boxes and for rainy days but i tell you honestly, you will not find them there i’ve written them under your skin
I’m Not There This fantastical journey through the biography and biology of Dylan’s soul is like a visual symphony, a poem of ideas, colours and landscapes. The moods are swerving, at times colliding with each other but the music consistently pulls together the threads of a tapestry full of life like no other. Such a feast. Mark said he felt that he needed more Dylan to contextualise it, but I as a Dylan fan, still had to process and reference to see only some of the nuance. Screenings 2 & 3 will be worth it, as well as a revival of some of Dylan’s earlier works, although Time Out Of Mind remains a favourite, if later and less protest-y album.
Rain, Wind, Fire The long night time conversation in front of the fire with deep eyes and heartfelt real life on the table is holding me steady under the wind.
Saying Goodbye To Theology? Interesting anonymous comment on the last post in regards to abandoning theology here. Of course not = and yes, my interpretation is possibly a little incendiary. But so it suits me to illustrate the point. Theology is ever-present, inescapable. If I think, if I write, if I consider God in any way – then theology is present.
But there is a breed of theologian that I consider to be dangerous to my generation and the future of youth ministry, not to mention the future of the church. Hierarchal theologians who categorize wisdom, knowledge and qualification in such a manner that the honest conversation of the follower is swayed from left to right by man’s words and not by a truthful measure of the Gospel. Theologians who separate the understanding of truth from the common people are dangerous folk.
Example: confusing the context of language and culture for theologial statements. For your average 18 year old, the manner of clothing they wear and the media they consume on a daily basis is not a concise or well-concluded theological statement. Trying to ascertain it as such and then provoke a changed response as a result.
Example: the derivation of preferred behaviour as contextualised biblical imperative. Whilst unity is spoken about in Scripture, I have not perceived it in my time to be a foundational issue in regards to understanding or applying the Grace of Christ to an everyday life. Especially when we teach unity as a behaviour in regards to church – a unified church that looks like full participation, never missing worship, never questioning leadership or authority and being governed in a bi-partisan manner. This is sociological instruction or at worst, experimentation when it pervades the priorities of our Christian communities.
Example: constructing societal norms within a cultural subset according to unique rules. The rules of living explicit in Scripture, and are broadbrush stroke for a reason I believe, which is that the principles of this life are the key and most important aspect of our behavioural adaption. We do this adaption in relationship with other followers and with Christ as center. This fluidity demands wrestle, which expands relevance and accessibility but hinges everything on relationship not rulebooks. An idealistic approach yes, but one that encourages everyday young people to interact with a living God within the pages of Scripture and the Spirit living within individuals and communities. Too often and too easily, we study scriptures and then apply them with our own social constructs. They are of course, designed to make it easier for people to apply them in their own lives but truthfully – can lead to behaviour modification based on pre-constructed societal norms (drinking, alcohol, clothing, music style etc etc ).
Goodbye to theology? Not at all. If anything, a deeper embrace of everyday theology with everyone involved. I continually try to encourage those around me to be engaging in this practice for themselves.
I’m tormented at the moment by the maddening crowd crying out for Church and not Kingdom. So much of this Christian life I should be living has nothing to do with the clamouring of church for my time and energy and investment. The hierarchal theology that rules our community in the present time makes me cry out for the intimate, dangerous radical that Jesus is.
Song Of The Moment : Theologians by Wilco
Theologians They don’t know nothing About my soul About my soul
I’m an ocean An abyss in motion Slow motion Slow motion
Inlitterati lumen fidei God is with us everyday That illiterate light Is with us every night
Theologians That don’t know nothing About my soul Oh they don’t know
They thin my heart with little things And my life with change Oh in so many ways I find more missing every day
Theologians
I’m going away Where you will look for me Where I’m going you cannot come
No one’s ever gonna take my life from me I lay it down A ghost is born A ghost is born A ghost is born
I’m an ocean I’m all emotion I’m a cherry ghost Cherry ghost
Hey I’m a cherry ghost A cherry ghost
Presence Proximity I’m learning the power of presence – the impact of one person’s presence on another. This is a power I have underestimated in my life and probably need to pay more attention too. That in the listening, watching and paying attention – there is something unspoken that rises in the atmosphere, that creates a longing for connection in the space time continuum and inside my heart. Ache. Wonder. Laughing.
Tash McGill is a broadcaster, writer and strategist who works with people and organisations to solve problems and create transformation. She believes people are the most important thing and that stories are powerful ways of changing the world. You can find out more at tashmcgill.com or by visiting her LinkedIn profile.
