still

Dad, the days just
go rolling by and,
somehow, I still
feel it's not right
that you aren't here
to see them.
Part of me never
wants to accept that
all memories are now
defined, limited
and cemented in
place, like the
crazy paving I
helped you lay, back
in the summer of
'78. But it

can't be denied,
and I know that
everyone has to
live in these
streets someday,
that maturity demands
an acceptance
of what is
and what is
not, any longer.
When

you came to fetch
me home from college
that last time, and
I couldn't help but
cry at the passing of
those days and the joys
of those friends,
you just told me
to do what I needed to
do, but make
sure I told you the
directions
for home - so
I hope you won't

mind that the tears
still roll
down.

Cash & Co

BBC4 can be an absolute delight - it shows the most interesting and enjoyable music programmes. Tonight I came across an old Johnny Cash show (well, a best of, from over the years). He was joined by various guests, some duetting with him (Linda Ronstadt; Joni Mitchell) and others performing solo (Neil Young, singing the beautifully, and angrily, sad The Needle & The Damage Done) and Cash himself (a superb, first-time-in-public The Man In Black).

And then there was Derek & The Dominoes (Eric Clapton & friends). When they finished their song, Cash joined them for a bit of chat and then on walked Carl Perkins and they all performed Matchbox together - what great guitar playing!

It was a riot.

why the blues matters

The blues artists....sang, giving voice to their hope for deliverance, their hope that Sunday's coming. The blues invites us not only to embrace the curse but also simultaneously to embrace the cross. To see the broken made whole, the lost found. We see the exile and the stranger make their way back home. "I was blind, but now I see," says the classic hymn. Not through some cheap happy ending, but in the identification and the defeat of all sorrow and sin in the Man of Sorrows on the cross, the most solemn minor key ever sounded in human history. In short, the blues helps us understand what theologians call redemption, all of the realities of life under the cross.

Stephen J Nicholls, Getting The Blues, pp.34,35

lights, please!

Pontefract's Christmas lights were officially turned on this evening. It's a big thing, in a small way - some stalls in the street, a podium from which someone said stuff we couldn't make out because the volume was too high and he help the mic too close to his mouth. And then there was a band! A four-piece, keyboards, lead guitar, double bass and drums, playing some old rock'n'roll classics. They were great!

I hope Santa's grotto wasn't too grotty.

Doings

Finally through the Apple App store process and promptly bought & installed on my iPod touch.

It lacks a bit of functionality so I emailed their support line. Got a reply within minutes, explaining something of their roadmap for improving the app. Impressive.

tiny colour movies

Remember John Foxx? I do - just about: Underpass. Yes; quite. Well, here's an interesting & enjoyable album of mini-soundtracks. Quite reminiscent of Vangelis and JMJ, but not in a derivative sense (Foxx was in at the start of it all).

Worth a listen.

an important question

On a recent Q&A, someone asked John Piper, "What role do you think your temperament plays in determining your view of God and the kind of Christianity you live out?"

That's a great question. It's one that I need to reflect on (but without getting too stuck inside my own navel).

For Piper's (very helpful) answer, go here - first video, about 6 minutes in.

the great books (xiii) - the lovely bones

In some ways, The Lovely Bones is best read alongside author Alice Sebold's memoir, Lucky. The latter is her account of her rape and near-death as a young college student; the former is her novel of a young girl's murder and subsequent life in heaven (we'll qualify that in a moment). Both are harrowing; both are, in their own ways, hopeful. Both are well-written; neither is maudlin or brutal.

Susie Salmon, the victim in The Lovely Bones, writes from, and of, heaven but the glimpses of it are relatively few; its concerns are more with life on earth and the impact of her murder on her family and friends. Sebold's writing on the topic is sharp and clear - almost icily so at times.

The heaven portrayed here is thin and watery; its happiness is detached and dulled. And Susie's own reconciliation with her death is via a consummated relationship in a brokered return to earth. What becomes clear, perhaps unintentionally so, is the fact that a disembodied reality cannot ultimately contain the fulness of joy we were made for.

And it will not; our adoption as sons will be completed with the redemption of our bodies.

welsh hill farmers; you can't get better than this

Gosh - I didn't expect that!

A BBC4 programme on the making of the Duran Duran album Rio shows them to be seriously competent, intelligent musicians, and interesting too. Even Bob Geldof sang their praises.

Life takes some strange turns.

on the crest

of a google wave!

finally got my invitation today to sign-up for google wave.

not sure if or how much i'll end up using it.

but it feels great to be able to do so!

not a clue what it is? try this.

in praise of written sermons (and more)

My father always preached from notes, and I wrote my sermons out word for word. There are boxes of them in the attic....For me writing has always felt like praying, even when I wasn't writing prayers, as I was often enough. You feel that you are with someone. I feel I am with you now, whatever that can mean, considering that you're only a little fellow now and when you're a man you might find these letters of no interest. Or they might never reach you, for any of a number of reasons. Well, but how deeply I regret any sadness you have suffered and how grateful I am in anticipation of any good you have enjoyed. That is to say, I pray for you. And there's an intimacy in it. That's the truth....

...I wrote almost all of [the sermons] in the deepest hope and conviction. Sifting my thoughts and choosing my words. Trying to say what was true. And I'll tell you frankly, that was wonderful. I'm grateful for all those dark years, even though in retrospect they seem like a long, bitter prayer that was answered finally. Your mother walked into church in the middle of a prayer - to get out of the weather, I thought at the time, because it was pouring. And she watched me with eyes so serious I was embarrassed to be preaching to her. As Boughton would say, I felt the poverty of my remarks.

Sometimes I have loved the peacefulness of an ordinary Sunday. It is like standing in a newly planted garden after a warm rain. You can feel the silent and invisible life. All it needs from you is that you take care not to trample on it. And that was such a quiet day, rain on the roof, rain against the windows, and everyone grateful, since it seems we never do have quite enough rain. At times like that I might not care particularly whether people are listening to whatever I have to say, because I know what their thoughts are. Then if some stranger comes in, that very same peace can seem like somnolence and like dull habit, because that is how you're afraid it seems to her.

Marilynne Robinson, Gilead, pp.21-23

man of steel

Man of steel, your hands
so strong, your
grip so tight;
laughter as fluid
as spilt milk.
At ease without
effort; curling
joy into a ball
for playing in the streets.
Unwilling, unable,
to wrest the
depths for lasting
truth; how settled
into shallows
of uncluttered
occupation.

todoist & doings

not wanting to get too esoteric, but....for a while now i've been using todoist as my task manager. it's a great (& free) online service. what it's lacked, for me, has been an adequate iphone app. minttodo offered promise but doesn't really cut it. but any day now, doings should be in the app store - and it looks like it will finally bring all the benefits of todoist to the iphone.

i can't wait.

the great books (xii) - red bird

Mary Oliver is a recent discovery for me in the world of poetry (I don't keep close tabs on what's going down in that world, I have to say). The first volume of her work I read was Thirst, which also happened to be her first collection of poems that handle a turning to faith in God. But it's her latest work, Red Bird, that I'm choosing for this list.

Her poetry is an absolute delight to me - it's the sort of poetry you 'get' on first reading and yet it calls you back again and again. First readings generally disclose a luxuriating moment; her use of ordinary language in service of joy and humanity marks her as a genius.

She may write a lot about nature but in a wholly different tone to Ted Hughes. And, latterly, her poetry has used meditation upon all things created as a doorway into time spent in contemplating and addressing the Creator.

I can't do better than quote here the following poem by way of example.

Maker of All Things, Even Healings

All night
under the pines
the fox
moves through the darkness
with a mouthful of teeth
and a reputation for death
which it deserves.
In the spicy
villages of the mice
he is famous,
his nose
in the grass
is like an earthquake,
his feet
on the path
is a message so absolute
that the mouse, hearing it,
makes himself
as small as he can
as he sits silent
or, trembling, goes on
hunting among the grasses
for the ripe seeds.
Maker of All Things,
including appetite,
including stealth,
including the fear that makes
all of us, sometime or other,
flee for the sake
of our small and precious lives,
let me abide in your shadow -
let me hold on
to the edge of your robe
as you determine
what you must let be lost
and what will be saved.

matt redman: we shall not be shaken

A new album from Matt Redman - spotified.

Leithart on Marilynne Robinson's Literary Calvinism

With Home amongst the Best Books list on this blog, here's an interesting addition: an essay by Peter Leithart on the Literary Calvinism of Marilynne Robinson.

Worth a gander.

grace in full bloom

We were sat today with a friend who knows she is dying. She has been terminally unwell for some time but her time is now clearly and visibly short. What was most clear, though, was the brilliance of God's grace, sustaining her and her family, giving glimpses of better things and sight of present blessings, too. It was more humbling than words can say.

On a similar theme is this interview with Steven Curtis Chapman, reflecting on the tragic death of his young daughter. It's solemn and solidifying reading.

His album, birthed from the grief, is on Spotify here.

a pop classic

I can't remember which radio station it was but, driving in the car the other day, an absolute classic pop song was playing - the kind of song that puts a smile on your face and a lightness in your step (if stepping is an appropriate thing to do when driving a car).

Anyway, here it is (spotify required). Enjoy.

"....talking Italian"