andyb_writes

Watching

2006-07-22T19:08:07Z

This piece, based on a passage from John Henry Newman's Parochial and Plain Sermons, was written for the instrumental section of a mime which Kate McIlveen (now Kate King) did way back on Advent Sunday 2000. In the end, we had a bible reading instead of this - can't remember which passage though!

To watch with Christ

Let us consider this most serious question - What is it to watch with Christ? I consider this word watching a remarkable word; remarkable because the idea is not so obvious as might appear at first sight, and next because our Lord and his disciples inculcate it. We are not simply to believe, but to watch; not simply to love, but to watch; not simply to obey, but to watch; to watch for what? For that great event, Christ’s coming...

Now what is watching?

I conceive it may be explained as follows: Do you know the feeling in matters of this life, of expecting a friend, expecting him to come, and he delays? Do you know what it is to be in unpleasant company, and to wish for the time to pass away, and the hour strike when you may be at liberty? Do you know what it is to be in anxiety lest something should happen which may happen or not, or to be in suspense about some important event, which makes your heart beat when you are reminded of it, and of which you think the first thing in the morning? Do you know what it is to have a friend in a distant country, to expect news of him, to wonder from day to day what he is now doing, and whether he is well? Do you know what it is so to live upon a person who is present with you, that your eyes follow his, that you read his soul, that you see all its changes in his countenance, that you anticipate his wishes, thatyou smile his smile, and are sad in his sadness, and are downcast when he is vexed, and rejoice in his successes? To watch for Christ is a feeling such as these; as far as feelings of this world are fit to shadow out those of another.

He watches with Christ, who, while he looks on to the future, looks back on the past, and does not so contemplate what his Savior has purchased for him, as to forget what he has suffered for him. He watches with Christ, who ever commemorates and renews in his own person Christ’s cross and agony, and gladly takes up that mantle of affliction which Christ wore here, and left behind him when he ascended. And hence in the Epistles, as often as the inspired writers show their desire for his second coming, so often do they show their memory of his first, and never lose sight of his crucifixion and in his resurrection.

What is watching?

You know that feeling, when you’re waiting for a friend. And they’re late.
Or you’re somewhere with people you don’t like and you want to get away.
Maybe you’re hoping something won’t happen.
Perhaps something is going to happen and you wish it would, you’re so nervous.
Could be a friend is far away, and you’re waiting for a letter from them, just to see how they’re doing.

On the other hand, is it when you’re with someone and your eyes go wherever theirs go.
When you mirror the changes in their face – the smiles, the frowns.
When you know what they want before they ask.
When they are sad, annoyed, happy, you share it with them.

To watch for Christ is all of these, and more. Words of this world shadowing realities of another which defies description using human feelings.

Andy Boal 26 November 2000

Deep Inside

2006-07-22T19:00:48Z

David Neilands, chaplain at Methodist College Belfast, has used this more than once in Assembly. It and How The Elephant Got Its Name were written during a writing course I did at Edgehill College and taken by his wife.

Come with me on a journey, into the depths of your mind. Deep inside, where noone else can see, where your deepest thoughts are stored.

Thoughts of what you are, what you’ve done.
Stuff you’ve done that you want noone to know about, stuff about you that people never see.
Stuff between you and God, perhaps even stuff you try and keep even from him.
Thoughts of what you really are, well below the facade we present to the world... where our true loneliness manifests itself, temptations haunt us, and where the deepest love we have is found.

But... what if things were reversed? What if our deepest thoughts were revealed to
everyone rather than the outside?

How would we feel?

Would we be ashamed?
Embarrassed?
Shocked?
Annoyed?
Appalled?

Or... would we be relieved that once and for all we could be ourselves, truly ourselves without needing to worry what people think of us, because everyone but everyone already knew what you were like and you knew what they were really like as well?

Andy Boal
10 October 2000

How the elephant got its name

2006-07-22T18:59:32Z

It had been a long hard day in the fields at Bethel, and the brothers were more than happy to return to the camp and relax round the fire before they went to bed. But then young Benjamin spoke up.

‘Dad, tell me a story! One of the ones about Noah!’

Why didn’t he go bed, thought Judah. That young boy was really annoying... and he was his father’s second favourite. Son of the right hand indeed... and now Dad would tell another one of his totally unbelievable stories about their ancestors. As if these could ever have happened...

‘One about Noah... now, I’m sure I’ve told you all of them...’

‘Aw, Dad!’

‘Oh, wait. I think I can remember one.

‘A long time ago, Adam named all the animals, and whatever he called them, that was their name. There were many fabulous animals and birds, from the tall giraffe with its stalks on its head and spotted back to the dodo, a funny little bird; but none was so unusual as a great big grey animal with a trunk that came out of his nose like this’ he said, showing them, ‘and with great big feet. Even your brother Reuben was nothing on him height wise – and it would take many of our cattle to equal the weight.

‘So Adam came to this great animal and said “You’re a heck of a lump, aren’t you, old boy? Maybe that’s what we’ll call you... yes, that’s it. A heck of a lump... or heffalump for short”

‘You know the rest – Adam and Eve got kicked out of the garden and so on. And the heffalumps decided they didn’t like it here much, so they split up. Some went south and some went east.

‘Now, along came Noah, and you know all about him, young Benjamin, before you ask me to tell the tale of the ark again. He went about getting all the animals together, and he went down south and out east and brought back both sets of elephants. One had larger ears than the other now – actually, it was the ones from the east had the big ears.

‘So, here came the heffalumps, and Noah couldn’t remember what they were called. So he said to Shem, “Shem, do you remember what Great-great-great-great-great-great grandfather called these animals?”

‘Shem said “No, Dad, I don’t remember at all.... we could try asking Japheth, I suppose?”

‘So off they went to see Japheth. Now, Japheth was a bit thick, you see, so he said “ Uh? Don’t ask me, dunno anything about it.”

‘And there was nothing to do. They just had to sit and wait for Ham to come back.

‘A few days later, Ham came back. Noah said to him “Ham, do you remember what they called those things there?”

‘Ham thought about it for a minute. He was a big know-all but this one had him stumped. Soon, though, he said “I’ve an idea. They’re great big things... I think they might be called heckofalumps. Certainly rings a bell anyway”

‘The others laughed at him “That’s too sensible, young Shem. Too obvious” said Noah.

‘” I know what it is now Adam called them elephants!” said Ham. And all was well. The elephant had his name. Not the right one, but it stuck and they still call them that now.

‘Only one thing left to add – Japheth was left in charge of sending all the animals back home, only he got the elephants mixed up. So the ones with large ears are now down south and the ones with small ears are away out east. Some day, maybe, you’ll see an elephant, young Benjamin – and if you do, remember it. There are few experiences like it, and I wish I had had the chance.’

‘But, Dad!’ shouted Benjamin. ‘If Noah didn’t know what Adam called them and he and his family were the only ones who survived the flood, how did you know?’

‘That’s another story altogether... well -’

‘BENJAMIN!’ shouted Leah. ‘Why aren’t you in your bed yet? Get you over here now!’

‘But, Mum! Jose-’

‘Never you mind what your brother does. I don’t know, One of these days that brother of yours is going to get you into real trouble, mark my words.’

Andy Boal Autumn 2000

A Bedtime Story

2006-07-22T18:57:38Z

Once upon a time there was a little girl called Jennifer, who had beautiful long brown hair. She lived with her mummy and daddy in a house in the woods near a small village, where everyone knew everyone else. Every Sunday she and her mummy and daddy would go off to the local church. And every Sunday they would sit in the next pew to friends of her parents, who had a little boy called Edward – Ted for short. Sometimes, Ted’s parents would visit her parents, or her parents would visit Ted’s parents, but Jennifer and Ted only usually met at church.

Jennifer owned a labrador, and every morning she would take her for a walk in the woods. One morning, she took a very long walk, and she found herself outside another house in the woods, with a name on the door. “Beare...” she thought to herself. “That’s the name of Mummy and Daddy’s friends.” She decided to see if Ted was in, and so she tied her dog to the gatepost and went to the front door.

She knocked on the door, but there was no answer. She tried the doorknob and it was open! “Oh! They’ve left the door unlocked, I’m sure they’ll not be long. I’ll wait for them inside.”

She opened the door, and went into the front room to wait for the Beares to return. Presently, though, she fell asleep, curled up on the couch.

Outside, her dog got tired waiting for Jennifer to come back out for her. She pulled and pulled on the lead, and it came loose! She went up the path, and through the front door, which Jennifer had left slightly open.

She smelled some food in the kitchen, and went off in search of it. She climbed onto a chair, and then up onto a table, where she found some bacon. and wolfed it all down. She then jumped back onto the chair – and broke it! Jennifer slept through all of this...

Jennifer’s dog scarpered from the kitchen, and up the stairs to the bedrooms, away from the noise. Edward had a bed just like Jennifer’s, and just as she did on Jennifer’s bed, she curled up and fell asleep.

Presently, Mr and Mrs Beare and Edward came home. “That’s odd, I don’t remember leaving the front door open, “said Mr Beare.

Ted looked into the front room. “Dad, it’s all right. Jennifer Locke’s asleep here in the front room = she must have popped in on her way past..”

“Okay, we’d better wake her up and take her back ho-”

Suddenly they heard a scream from the kitchen It was Mrs Beare, who had discovered the mess. “Someone’s been eating our bacon – raw!” Ted ran in and yelled “And one of our chairs is broken!”

Startled by this, Jennifer’s dog bounced off the bed and around the bedroom. Mr Beare ran upstairs to see what the disturbance was, and brought the dog squirming downstairs. “Is this your dog, Jennifer?”

“Yes, that’s Gold-”

“How dare you bring her round, eating our food, breaking our furniture, messing up our beds that we paid good money for, that I worked hard for,” he shouted. I’m going to have words with your father about this!”

Very frightened, Jennifer grabbed Goldie from Mr Beare’s arms and ran all the way home and told her daddy what had happened. He promptly rang Mr Beare and they had a big argument over the phone. “Well, that’s the last time I go to the same church as that man!” he said, resolving to go to a new church from the next week. “He is so tight-fisted – all that fuss over a few rashers of bacon!”

Meanwhile, Mr Beare was deciding not to go to that church either, or to ever invite the Lockes around again. “What a terrible man, letting his daughter and dog take food a good Christian man has worked hard to pay for.”

So they both changed church – but to two different ones, which is probably as well. In any case, they didn’t see each other, and so both families – and Goldie - lived happily ever after,

Well, the story has got mixed up a bit over the years. I don’t know where people get the idea of bears from, but that was the true story of Goldie Locke and the Three Beares.

Andy Boal
15 February 2003

Picking up other writings...

2006-07-22T18:56:04Z

I'm way behind, so I'm posting poems and stories I've written as I remember. Here's one I wrote for the TEC team (see below) after I retired from that project...

Standing

Standing in his presence
The music fades into the background
all that remains is you and the Lord
Looking into his face
Knowing he accepts you
Knowing he forgives you
Knowing he loves you
Almost as if noone else matters
Knowing his arms around you
Knowing the power of his touch
Knowing he’s equipping you
Knowing his strength within you
As the music fades back in
And you reconnect with the world
And you become aware of those around
Yet, you stand in his presence.

Andy Boal
11.20pm 15 November 2000

Acknowledgements and conclusion

2006-07-22T18:54:25Z

So here we are, finally. Thanks for staying with me!

So I’d like to thank people... first off, Angie Beggs for the cover artwork.

Michael and Ellen McKenna, Michael and Ceara Allen, and Angie Beggs (again...) for permission to use the poems I wrote for them. I’m honoured.

Jeff Marshall for permission to include For Steff. It is a special honour to remember her in these pages.

Ruth Gormley for persuading me to write music for A Prayer, because if she hadn’t I’d probably not have written music for Lead Me On or You either.

Stu Johnston for the History Makers Logo.

John Kee and Richard Nelson of History Makers for their support.

Steve Stockman, Graeme Kerr, Phil Maxwell, Doug Smith, Jamie Treadwell, Peter Wilson, Peter King, Kate McIlveen, Kathy Page, Dave and Carol Landers, everyone listed above or elsewhere in these pages and everyone I’ve simply forgotten (sorry!) for the encouragement you’ve given me over the years.

Finally to God himself, for without his Son I’d have nothing to write about, and without his Spirit, I wouldn’t have the necessary gifts.

This poetry book supported History Makers and raised £160 for the project!

History Makers was a Millennium Initiative developed by all the main Churches in Ireland along with the complete spectrum of Christian Youth Agencies.

It offered young people the chance to get involved in projects that make a difference and celebrate the life and message of Jesus.

It concluded with the Encounter Day at the King’s Hall, Belfast on 7 December 2000 – a day not to be forgotten by many people, young and old, who shared in the day or evening featuring Steve Chalke, Jonathan Edwards, Graham Kendrick, Máire Brennan, Booley, the World Wide Message Tribe, and Robin Mark.

On behalf of everyone concerned, thank you for your support.

Dreaming

2006-07-22T18:52:42Z

The last one in the collection, and written specially for it...

We all have the God-given capacity to dream.
What we do with those dreams is up to us...
but God sometimes gives us very special dreams.

Dreaming...
Of how things could really be
Of how what’s wrong could be right
Of how life could be easier
Of how the pain could cease

Looking up at the pie in the sky
Dreams unfulfilled, the frustration
Of knowing things can’t change
That they’ll always be the same

Dreaming...
Of how God wants things to be
Of meeting the one he’s chosen for you
Of the real career he has for you
Of the opportunities he’ll bring your way

Not pie, but real dreams...
The dreams of what will be
The certainty of change
For the better, not the worse.

Dreaming...
Of a day when I can trust God
When my fears let go of me
When I run into his arms
And I know what true love is

When I look
In His eyes
I know
Love
not our love

but God’s

Love.

8.55pm 30 August 2000

Friends

2006-07-22T18:52:07Z

Recent events led me to look at what I wanted in friendships.

This is the result.

Spending time together,
Talking crazy talk,
Sharing life’s experiences,
Lighting up the day.

Shoulder to cry on,
Ears to listen,
Arms to hug you,
Words to advise,
Someone to lean on,
Relief for the lonely,
Voice on the phone,
Or sitting beside you.

Spending time together,
Talking crazy talk,
Sharing life’s experiences,
Lighting up the day.

Someone to share joy,
Someone to share fun,
Someone to encourage,
Someone to build up,
Someone to make special,
Someone to give to,
Someone to see Jesus,
Someone to be Jesus.

Spending time together,
Talking crazy talk,
Sharing life’s experiences,
Lighting up the day.

8.45pm 17 July 2000

Stewarding

2006-07-22T18:51:28Z

I was a Summer Madness steward for seven years, finally standing down on 4 July 2000. I read this poem that Tuesday lunchtime to the stewards, reflecting on some fourteen weeks over the seven years during which God has really blessed me.
To all Summer Madness stewards: God bless you for all the work you’ve done and your friendship over the years. Thanks again.

[Another historical note: I'm still involved in Summer Madness, obviously. The Stewards became Event Crew in 2002]

Black and yellow, yellow and purple, red and blue,
Tie-dyed, red and blue, yellow and blue;
The scarves I’ve worn down the years
Bring deep memories of the people I’ve known,
With sledges and shifters, clickers and lacing,
Fire doors and exits, electrics and gas,
Watching and taking tents up and down,
Ducking in Flipside, sleeping in Comms,
Singing in worship, learning through tears,
Eating in the kitchen, kipping in tents,
U-bends and toilets, litter and bins,
Doughnuts and homewheat, Frosties and juice,
Memories I treasure, people I love,
All the events I can never forget,
All that I’ve learnt by God’s gracious love,
Time in this world on the Stewarding Team.

2 July 2000

A Meditation

2006-07-22T18:50:14Z

One night before Summer Madness 2000, Phil Maxwell read this out. It was probably the last time I’ll either hear it or read it out, because God dealt with many of the issues in it at Summer Madness. Others remain outstanding [and still do in 2006], but I will no longer be reading this out myself... which is nice to know, actually! [I did in the end...]

Knowing your presence, Lord,
Your hand on my life,
Wishing I could hear your voice
Like voices on the TV.
Wishing your ‘soon’ was my ‘soon’,
That ‘wait’ could be forgotten.
Wishing for the answers,
Ones I cannot see.
Lord, I want to know where I’m going,
Just wish I knew what your plan is.
You taught me so much recently,
Shown me so much of your love,
Caught my attention, brought me
To where I can listen to you.
I’m so glad you’ve been with me,
Catching me when unaware,
But so much I want to hear more:
Know what to do when,
Where to go, why
Whom to give my heart.
Place on my heart
Your desire for my life.
Fill me with your Spirit,
Lead me for your sake.
Take me in your arms,
Whisper in my ear.
Show me your way:
Lead me, love me, take me.
I am yours, yours alone
Forever, and I need you
More than my heart will know
Now, or in eternity

9.35pm 25 May 2000

For Angie

2006-07-22T18:48:59Z

Angela Beggs says she isn’t really the way I describe her in this poem. I know at least one other person (if not more!) who agrees with me (Sorry, Ange!)

I look into your eyes of grey -
Grey, but filled with God’s love.
I see your heart, where God abides,
And shows himself in everything you do,
In your friendship, in your listening,
In your hugs, in your just being there.

I see a wonderful person to be with,
A friend who gives up loads of her time,
I see the most precious human gift,
The love you give to us all.
You are precious, you are priceless,
You are loved, you are special.

I have seen the depth of your beauty
In all the gifts that God has given.
I have missed you when you’re away
And enjoyed the times you are here.
Thank you, just thank you,
For your love, for your life.

Angie, your friendship is beyond price,
One of my finest possessions,
Your love runs deep right through you,
Too precious to ever put at risk.
I love you, I appreciate you,
And always, I thank God for you.

11pm Sunday 21 May 2000

Will You...

2006-07-22T18:48:25Z

I wrote this after Easter Praise 2000. It just turned out to be a History Maker-type poem...

Line 4 pays homage to Graeme Kerr’s experiences at Spring Harvest 1999 (this big lighting guy came up to him and said ‘Graeme? Look at that pink gel. Isn’t it pretty?’ (Please say that with an English accent, leaving out ts and turning rs to ws...))

[Historical note: Graeme, Angie Beggs, and Phil Maxwell accompanied the NOMAD Big Top to the last Spring Harvest at Pwllheli in 1999. Apologies if I spelt that wrong...]

Will you listen to the call?
Or will you listen to the music?
Will you read all the signs?
Or will you watch the pretty lights?
Will you sing of his love?
Or will you sing about your girl?
Will you lift up his name?
Or will you toss it around like a ball?
Will you give up your life?
Or will you hold it like a vice?
Will you follow in his footsteps?
Or will you stay in the comfort zone?
Will you go and fight for right?
Or will you say they didn’t wrong you?
Will you live your life for Jesus?
Or will you waste your life for nothing?
Will you run the race to glory?
Or will you stay at the blocks of shame?
Will you go and make a difference?
Or will you say it seems fine to you?
Will you go and make some history?
Or will you leave the world to die?

10.45pm 30 April 2000

My Life is in your hands

2006-07-22T18:46:36Z

When I wrote this, I imagined it would be longer, so I left it undated. Needless to say, I still haven’t finished it!

My life is in your hands.
Every inch of the valley,
Every step up the mountain,
Every minute of darkness,
Every moment of sorrow,
Every second alone.

And as you hold me deep in your arms,
As you walk me down the length of this road,
As you overshadow me with your love,
Keep my eyes fixed on you, for my life is in your hands.

March 2000

December 29

2006-07-22T18:45:42Z

Michael McKenna and Ellen McAllister got engaged on 29 December 1999. I had planned to quote from ‘Niall and Clare’ on their engagement card, but couldn’t find it, so I simply wrote them a new poem. This one’s better, actually.

They got married on 18 July 2001 - Civil Ceremony followed by the real celebration - a blessing service at Friends School, Lisburn.

In a moment in London
You make your decision
The fulfilment of your dreams
In the giving of a ring
The opening of the future
By the love that’s in your hearts.

Your love has crossed the barriers
Of hatred, division, strife
You ignored those who said ‘never’
You listened to our God
The love he gave you was too strong
For evil to overcome.

For he who called you did so
To lead you in all truth,
And called you to each other
To give you of the best
Of all that he can give you
Through the deep love that you share

So as you go on together
Towards the day you wed
And then beyond to life
As two turned into one
Know my prayers will go with you
As you walk on with God

27 February 2000

Light up my life

2006-07-22T18:44:46Z

[back to the poetry]

This was fun to write! How I found five metaphors and one simile for useless lights I do not know!

You light up my life with your love.
Every moment you are with me, I know.
In my pain you bring healing,
In my sorrow much joy,
In my loneliness comfort,
In my confusion, understanding,
In my exhaustion, relief,
In my darkness, direction.

Yes, you light up my life with your love
With you I am never alone
Show me your way when I’m blind
Your truth amidst lies
Your word in confusion
Your light in the dark
Your love in the valley
Your strength up the mountains

Your love is the only true light
All else but a poor imitation
Like a torch when the batteries are done
A candle with all the wick gone
An oil lamp nearly run dry
A gas lamp with the cylinder empty
A headlight with a bad connection
A light bulb with the coil burnt through.

Your love fills my whole life with light
Reveals things hidden deep down
Gives forgiveness for sins of the past
Strength to defy all that’s false
Power to follow the right
Faith for the future to come
Resistance to all that is evil
And love for the one who is light.

11.30pm 13 January 2000

A prayer

2006-07-22T18:43:48Z

I read this to Ruth Gormley, who suggested I write music for it. Net result was I wrote the music for this, ‘You’ and ‘Lead Me On’ one evening in the Church of the Resurrection, where I’ve written all my songs.

Lord, I stand before you,
I’m insecure, I’m needy, I’m lonely,
Only you can fix these,
Only you can give security,
Only you can fulfil my every need,
Only you can fill my heart;

Lord, I kneel before you,
I need your love more than ever,
I’ve seen so much of it that
I now know what I was missing,
I want to grow in it more each day,
And show it in how I live for you;

Lord, I fall down before you,
I’ve kept you out of my life for so long,
Fill it up with your Spirit,
That I may live your life,
And worship you in all truth,
And love you for all of my days;

Lord, I stand before you.

11.30pm 5 June 2000

You

2006-07-22T18:43:03Z

I wrote this and ‘A prayer’ on the same night, pretty late as you can see, as with most of my poems... seems to be a pretty productive time for me.

You are my hope,
You are my love,
You are my leader,
You are my brother;

Take every part of me,
Make it like you,
Make my wants into your wants,
My will to do yours;

You are my friend,
You are my trust,
You are my guide,
You are my eternity;

Take my insecurities,
Wipe them away,
Fulfil all my needs
So I no longer want my wants;

You are my father,
You are my passion,
You are my Lord,
You are my all,
You are my all.

11.10pm 5 June 2000

Lead me on

2006-07-22T18:42:09Z

There is a big gap between ‘saying’ and ‘doing’, known as ‘reality.’ This, the first song for which I had written lyrics in three years, but the third to have music written, (at the
same time as ‘You’ and ‘A Prayer’) deals with that whole subject and my fears.

I want to follow you where you go
But I don’t know where to turn.
I want to walk in the path you set,
But I don’t know where to start.

So lead me on, Jesus,
Take my hand into yours,
Lead me on, Jesus,
Take the veil from before my eyes.

I want to share your vision for me,
But I’m too blind to see.
I want to see me as you see me,
But my mirror only shows my skin.

I want to love as you first loved me,
But my heart is too hard for that.
I want to give myself to you,
But I like my freedom too much.

I want to praise you all my days,
But I waste my voice on other things.
I want to do your will in every hour,
But I waste my time on my own stuff.

I want to live on the edge for you,
But my fear keeps me from the precipice.
I want to fall into your arms
But I’m far too scared to jump.

6.20 pm 22 May 2000
(verse 5 written 10.15pm 23 May 2000)

For Steff

2006-07-22T18:41:20Z

Steff O’Neill was a precious friend to many of us, and her death in a car crash on 27 April 1997 was a big shock to many of us. This song dealt with the grief I felt, and although I no longer sing it, it stands as one of the deepest looks into my heart in the darkest of valleys.

It is a prequel to ‘Light Up Your World.’

We say ‘why,
Why, oh why, oh why,
Why did she have to go?’
Alone, O Lord, you know,
For you defined the moment
That this girl whom we love
Should be brought back to you,
But forever, we’ll miss Steff.

We loved the life you gave her,
The love that shined on through,
The craziness we saw in her,
We know it came from you;
The inspiration she was to us,
She kept on loving you,
And so you brought her close to you,
But leave us wondering;

O Lord - we just don’t know why,
I guess some day we will,
Cos in this world, to understand,
So hard it is to try;
Even knowing that we’ll see her,
On your far and distant shore,
The knowledge that we’ve lost her
So hard to realise;

We stand in grief united
For this girl we knew and loved,
In thanksgiving lifting up our hearts
For the life you gave to her;
Even knowing there is comfort
In the place we know she’s gone,
In our hearts there’ll always be a place
For this girl we cannot see;

28 - 29 April 1997

Light up your world

2006-07-22T18:40:15Z

This was written for guitar. I don’t play guitar. That said, I’ve played it on piano at least once. It turned out to be a sequel to the next song, albeit written two weeks earlier.

Because we know your love,
We wanna show your love,
Lord may we light up your world.
We see your Spirit move,
Lord we are here for you,
Lord may we light up your world.

You put us here for a reason,
You gave us your saving grace,
You said be your salt and light;
You said be lights to the nations,
We said ‘Lord, show us how,
Cos, Lord, we wanna serve, we wanna work for you;’

You said ‘all power is given to me,
You gotta go on out there,
I will be your guide;
For though you won’t see my body,
My Spirit will come to you.
And he will show you how, and show you where to go;’

‘For all my people are hungry,
So few that know about me,
Some must take to them good news;
Because I am still waiting
For them to recognise me,
And you, you know, you’re the ones to show them me;’

13 April 1997

You Are The Inspiration

2006-07-22T18:39:15Z

About thirteen years ago, the chorus of this song came into my head. It took much longer to write the rest of the song, the idea for which came from the Chicago song ‘You’re the Inspiration.’ Ben Burrows recorded a backing track of this song for me, based on a recording Peter King did for me.

Sometimes, in your life, you feel so alone,
You’re looking for something you can never find;
But someone is there, although you cannot see him,
But still you search for someone more solid;

Sometimes, in despair, you don’t know where to go,
Your friends don’t seem to care, they just go do their own thing;
But I can tell you, this man that you can’t see,
I sing to him for the things he’s done for me;

You are the inspiration of my life,
You are the only one I’m looking for,
You are the only one who set me free,
You paid for my sin;
You are the only meaning in my life,
Yes, you are the one who’ll bring me through,
You bring me all the love and peace I need,
Yes, you are my rock.

When I was alone, he kept me company,
He listened, and spoke to my heart,
He gave me healing and peace,
And with him, I know, I’ll find strength to carry on;

instrumental verse

You are the inspiration...

And so, what I tell you, there’s no need to despair,
This man, Jesus Christ, he can heal all your wounds;
Come to him with open heart, and listen to his teaching,
And soon you’ll see, and you’ll sing along with me;

You are the Inspiration...

You are my rock!

1 April 1997

I Wanna Worship (In Spirit and Truth)

2006-07-22T18:34:29Z

This is an unusual song, as I actually got two lines to rhyme. However, I remembered not to let the rest of it rhyme! (my poems almost never rhyme, although they do scan)

I’m gonna sing of all his love for me,
And how he gave his son,
A little babe, then crucified
As one of this earth’s scum,
But soon he rose again,
Death conquered, sin was slain,
The anointed one who gave his life for me;

I’m gonna sing of how he went to heaven
And left a promise here,
A comforter, his spirit true,
To guide us all our lives,
A Spirit to Inspire,
To teach and show his love,
And to lead us to ways of holiness;

I wanna worship, I wanna worship the Lord,
I wanna worship, I wanna worship the Lord;
I’m gonna sing his praise for evermore,
My heart will love him, and adore,
I wanna worship the Lord in Spirit and Truth.

And in that time he lived on earth
He taught us how to be
As God’s own sons and daughters too,
Worthy of our call
To be him in our world,
To minister his love,
And show we believe in his truth;

I once was lost, but now am found,
The Lord has given his life for me,
And those who know of his love;
He came to us, as one of us,
And worked, even, like anyone,
Until the day came to start;
He gave to us his Father’s words,
Redemption now to anyone.
And all to be done was believe;
He died for us, he rose for us,
And then he went to heaven for us,
And so we must answer the call;

April 1996

Be In My Life

2006-07-22T18:33:39Z

This song will make a good filler between tracks if I ever do an album (!) - a nice bit of bread, but not enough to eat on its own.

O Lord, you are my everything,
O Lord, you give new life to me,
O Lord, you are my destiny,
O Lord, be in my life;

O Lord, you’re there to comfort me,
O Lord, you’re there to guide me through,
O Lord, you are my refuge here,
O Lord, be in my life;

And when I can’t control myself,
And when I try to slip away,
And when I will not heed your call,
O Lord, do what you must to bring me back.

O Lord, you are my everything,
O Lord, you give new life to me,
O Lord, you are my destiny,
O Lord, be in my life;

O Lord, I want to do your will,
O Lord, I want to hear your voice,
O Lord, guide me in all your ways,
O Lord, be thou my life!

March 1996

Intermission

2006-07-22T18:33:02Z

Between November 1997 and January 2000, I wrote neither poetry nor songs. A very quiet time, all told... but I didn’t think about it to be honest. Those of you who know me will know that I don’t write poetry on demand - not even my own demand, much as I might like to. To me it was a case of not having anything to write, but not losing the slightest bit of sleep over it... but the time flew in.

The biggest surprise was when I was looking back through the catalogue, if you like, because I hadn’t realised just how long it had been since I’d written anything...

Oh well. Here followeth the song catalogue. It happens that I wrote as much (printable) poetry between 1994 and 1997 as I have done so far this year, so it divides quite cleanly down the middle, leaving loads of space for the songs. These are given with words as before, but also the music for them. I have tried to keep the music on facing pages as far as possible, but it hasn’t totally worked. [sometime I may provide the music in Sibelius Scorch format - alas, not here!]

The last item in this section was an instrumental I wrote earlier that year called Easter Morning, and you could almost preach a sermon on it... anyway, to explain.

Imagine with me that it’s an ordinary Sunday morning as far as most of the world is concerned. Dawn, for that matter... a quiet ordinary dawn. But it’s special in its own way... very special.

So the sun rises, and a new day begins. Along come the Marys and the disciples to the tomb, blind to the beauties of nature because they are grieving for the loss of the Lord. And they find the empty tomb, and discover that Jesus is alive! The music captures the elation as they join in the hymn that all nature is singing on this special day.

As time goes on, the elation dies down to an intense, but measured joy, where nothing will be the same again.

I didn’t play it on Easter morning, although I did play it a couple of weeks before the book was published...

Wastelands

2006-07-22T18:32:09Z

Another poem on a similar theme to 'Cry to those in pain’, and the last poem I wrote for two years.

Looking out on the wasteland of your life,
Seeing houses, now derelict,
Houses you still kind of live in,
Full of memories you can’t let go.

Let him move in, bring the JCB,
Bring in the plough, renew the earth,
Give the past no more power,
Hold on to him who is for all time.

Houses of pain, yet there was your home,
And still you can’t let go,
Trapped by chains of the past,
Scared to look for the key.

Let him move in…

Destroy the pain, pull down the bricks,
Break the chains, flatten it down,
Give them all up, and call on his name,
Let him break down the walls holding you in.

Let him move in…

Seeing the mess, a broken land,
Derelict, useless for seed,
How can anything grow here?
Seems too impossible to ever be done.

Let him move in…

Break up the ground, take out the stones,
Fertilise and water, make it like new,
Here is the springtime, soon will be harvest,
Be now the seedbed, whole and prepared.

Let him move in…

Look to the future, as it can be,
Give him the pain, bear it no more,
Give him the waste ground, to be renewed,
Prepare for grace to run through your life.

7.40 pm 18th November 1997