faith
An Advent World Cup
Advent reassessed
I’m-not sure we’ve got Advent entirely right
In-a-culture where its meaning has slipped out of sight
If it signifies-just chocolate and calendar doors
Then it’s time to revisit it, slow down, and press pause;
We think of this season as cosy and pretty
It’s anything but, it’s surprisingly gritty
Maybe it’ll help us to view it afresh
If we see how its themes with the world are enmeshed
With-what’s going on right now, this moment, right here
A world marked by violence and anguish and fear…
Think of people who-are sinking under spiralling costs
I think of Mary and Joseph, in a census town lost
Price of living, eat or heating, the clamour and din
I picture them struggling, ‘no room at the inn’
And when I see tyrants, their bitter seed sow
I remember God’s promise to-bring the proud ones so low
The only way I can handle the horrors of war
Is remembering that the mercy and grace-of-God are sure
‘Woman, life, freedom’, when I hear that brave cry
I-think how God honoured Mary – and the humble, lifted high
Even the World Cup, stirring frail hopes and dreams
Makes me think of a hope that is greater, and streams…
Of justice, that bubble in the desert, and flow
Cos God’s longing to love us and bless us you know
So don’t imagine Advent is cosy or tame
It’s fierce and it’s fearless – it won’t leave you the same
Image by Amber Clay from Pixabay
Rethinking Remembrance
We may find a multitude of ways to remember
Sacrifices made, this day each November
And whether we wear poppy red, poppy white
In the square, in a churchyard, in the soft autumn light
Or at home, or even if we don’t mark it at all
Conflicts, some present, exert still a call
On our minds and our hearts to give pause and reflection
Consider, is there some substantial connection
Between those who struggle, and our more comfortable lives
Far from child soldiers under African skies
Or those in Ukraine, or Iran, where they fight
Against varying tyrannical forms, out of sight…
When part of you hurts, the whole body feels pain
It’s how we should be, when one person is maimed
So let us be conscious, seek out and discern
Where conflict is happening, to direct our concern
And find out the cause – resources, or land –
Which ignited the flame, let it get out of hand
Put ourselves in their shoes, empathise, and yeah, pray
Take some action perhaps – and though it doesn’t go away
We can lift up the hurting, joining hands, joining hearts
And imagine a future – where war finally departs
Image by Annette Jones from Pixabay
For BBC local, and community radio
Guy Fawkes and grace
On a leaf-golden evening in early November
We take up the call to ‘remember, remember’
Trio of gunpowder, treason and plot
(If you’re worried I’ll say the whole poem, worry not)
Still, it’s amazing how we annually show up
To remember a man who tried parliament – to blow up
With twelve other plotters, Guy Fawkes was in league
‘Twas a veritable hotbed of vice and intrigue
Makes sense to be thankful their bad scheme was foiled
(If nowt else it meant Bonfire night isn’t spoiled)
Two short reflections, this happening ignites
A duo of thoughts from this noisiest of nights
The first: far from harming folk who get in your way
I’m reminded of Jesus’ words: ‘for your enemies, pray’
There are sackfuls of peace, and a decrease in stress
When those who ill-treat us – we promise to bless
Second, in the fireworks that light up the sky
I see something of the beauty of God, by and by
As across inky black, phoenix patterns they trace
In my mind’s eye they mirror the beauties of grace
And like a love message, in letters of fire
Their shapes in the darkness astound and inspire
Audio poem for BBC local, Premier Christian and community radio
Image by free stock photos from www.picjumbo.com from Pixabay
Harvest ‘homily’
Do you ever give much thought about Harvest, that fulsome and foodie time of year
It sounds quite old-fashioned I grant you, and not often talked about, I fear
You may have your own particular memories, going to church, wondering, why all this food?
Seeing piles of pineapples, truckloads of tins, and something the dog maybe chewed
We live very differently from how our ancestors did, frugal and close to the land
When they sowed their own seed, and milked their own cows, and picked their own apples by hand
Now we get our food internet-ordered, packaged and boxed up and sealed,
Today’s kids, like us, are less connected to farming, some are lucky if they’ve ever seen a field
I wonder if there’s something we’ve lost in all this, (feel free to differ of course)
I wonder if we’ve lost a kind of sense of the big picture, creation, what’s behind it, the Source
I’m out on a limb here, freewheeling I know, so forgive me if this idea tanks
But I wonder if we’ve lost the old ‘attitude of gratitude’, the God-given desire to give thanks
So my challenge today is, look closer at your food shop, spend quality time with a pear!
And think about what and who grew it, I promise you’ll find something to give thanks for right there.
Best listened to! For BBC local radio & beyond…
Image by Pete Linforth from Pixabay
Haven-seeking
Something strange has happened, something unforetold
Now the tide of grief withdraws, time the thing enfolds
Though our lives move briskly on, and memories fade away
Still I wonder, what of worth, in hearts and minds will stay?
Something deep in us was tapped, an inner wall was breached
Feelings hard to plumb were stirred, often out of reach
Dark and hidden reservoirs, deep within us welled
Grief for passing permanence, bubbled, rose and swelled.
For many in these isles, a rock was lost, that felt secure
In a changing world, for some, their footing feels less sure
Spirit of a nation feels, abruptly, more alone
Now those restless feelings, must find another home.
In a life so dedicated, might we find a clue
A hint to guide, a glint of light, to show us what to do?
In a hurting world, where hearts, like bobbing boats adrift
Seek safe haven, is there something here, which hearts may lift?
In these strange and shifting times, mournful tears have welled
Might it be a time to weigh afresh the hope she held?
Ponder where was rooted, that servant spirit poor
Humbly think again, upon that beckoning, welcome shore?
Image by Franck Barske from Pixabay
September Soliloquy
It’s early September, the turn of the year, and summer is waning, and we’re back into gear
The high days and holidays have all but departed, and there in their place, well, school has just started
Or is about to, and days running barefoot on grass, give way now to days sitting book-bored in class
For some there’s commuting, and back to the grind, irked by the colleague who doesn’t seem to mind
Clubs and societies start up again, ‘back to normal’ can be quite invigorating, but then
While you may like the changes, you might just feel dread; (the ‘cost o’ living’ malarkey isn’t going back to bed)
But whatever your thoughts, and whatever your feelings, whether raring to go, or actually just reeling
The start of this month can be a time to take stock, reflect just a little, take a break from TikTok
Ask deeper questions, what am I living for, is it really just the house and the kids, two point four?
Am I happy with life, is it going just right, or is there something I’m missing, maybe just out of sight?
Some kind of grounding, some spiritual light, that might make life richer, more hopeful and bright?
In the late summer period, when green leaves are turning, why not make it a season of wisdom and learning
In routine, find adventure, and rediscover awe; you might find some beauty that you’d not seen before.
Commonwealth Games poem
It gives me great pleasure, it thrills me to report
It’s turning out to be such a fine summer of sport
Not just the lionesses’ footballing win
We’ve the Commonwealth games too, to sink our teeth in
Been a while since we’ve seen so much zest and such fun
In the buzzin’ and groovin’ ol’ city of Brum,
These games have a magic, quite all of their own
You can’t bottle it up, in a pic, on a smartphone
A compelling amalgam of the strange and the elite
Is what we see in this festival of cool sporting feats
I like that in a Games where the top draws excel
There’s a place for the home grown and quirky as well
When I look at these Games, you know they put me in mind
Of another phenomenon, of a different kind
There’s something about the whole quest to excel
That reminds me of the spiritual call to do our best as well
And the thing that distinguishes that bold inner ‘race’
Is God blesses it with some of his stardust, called grace
And the best thing of all is, we’re not on our own
In that spiritual gymnasium, we don’t go it alone
And so as these games reach their joyous conclusion
I pray that we’ll all have, a big grace infusion.
Broadcast on BBC Radio Jersey and Guernsey
Racket Reflections
Anyone for tennis? I love it, I’ll come clean
A massive fan of Wimbledon, in S double-u nineteen
The atmosphere, the strawberries, I even dig the queues
Nadal and Radacanu, Murray, Norrie, you choose
Hanging out on Henman Hill, especially when it’s hot
Delicious thwack of ball on racket, hitting that sweet spot
There’s something quite balletic, about how they move on court
The beauty and precision of this game give pause for thought
Does our love for the perfect backhand, drop shot hit just right
Intimate a hunger, for a more elusive delight?
Revelling to see that lifted trophy, golden plate
Does it somehow stir a deeper urge to celebrate?
One apostle Paul compared this life we live, to a race
One in which a Loving Presence carves us out a space
Hand in hand with Father God, when every game’s been played
Am I ready for that crown in heaven, that’ll never spoil or fade?
For BBC local, Premier Christian, and community radio stations
Image by davidkenny91 from Pixabay
A Bruce moment 