Author: inertus

Sally writes:

This week’s Friday Fix song is ‘New Years Day’ by U2. It is a song which was written in the early 1980’s and according to Wiki was originally a love song but it was adapted to fit with the Solidarity movement in Poland.

Listening to it for New Year in 2025, when the world has become increasingly polarized, it has a very strong meaning for us now I believe.

The words I want to particularly focus on are:

“And we can break through
Though torn in two, we can be one
I, I will begin again
I, I will begin again
I will be with you again.”

It does feel that we have been ripped apart as a society both in this country and elsewhere, with the rise of populism and people being pitted against one another rather than against the forces of oppression which are increasing inequality between those who have and those who have not.

As a Christian, populism is something I believe we need to stand against, not to condemn people, but in order to offer an alternative. Christianity, in its purest form, is based upon love and based on hope – not fear – and solidarity – rather than competition or control.

And New Year is all about hope and the chance to start again. Even if we feel like in 2024 we messed up, we can say sorry and begin again. Beginning again with a fresh slate – a chance to move on from all the mistakes of last year and into a place of hope and sincere desire for things to be different.

Of course this year we will still mess up from time to time, but if we are intentional we can choose this year to live in a way which is about breaking through into a different way of being and unified in community rather than divided by difference.

So I wish you a peaceful and hopeful 2025 based on love rather than hate; hope rather than fear as we all begin again.

Find out more about U2 at https://www.u2.com/

It’s our annual Friday of rest, but fear not because it’s also the day that we share the playlist of most of the songs that appeared on the Friday Fix during 2024.

Happy Christmas and enjoy listening:

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5Jz6pJRogfbaiv099wrJPV?si=h3M3S9B3TFmN5-ZCzbzriQ&pi=e-6ixnhJUvR6uy

Tom writes:

This piece was going to be very different, and based on a very different piece of music, but such is life. As I sat and thought about the theme of love, that great Advent and Christmas theme, and wondered what I might write, I paused the song I was going to write about and searched my many, many playlists to see if anything else stood out. And it was Eagles of Death Metal’s (EODM) ‘I Love You All The Time’ that jumped out at me.

Now, I am the first to acknowledge that this band and this song is not necessarily the most obvious choice to reflect on the love encountered at Christmas – although it should be noted that EODM don’t actually play death metal, they play good ol’ heavy-blues-inspired rock. But even with that, “I love you all the time” is inescapably a love song in the standard type of that genre – a reflection on unrequired romantic love.

 Yet, it is what this song represents that I think caused it to jump out at me and say, “This, this is the song that works for this theme”. If you’re not aware, EODM were playing to a sold-out crowd at the Bataclan Theatre, Paris, on the night of 13th November 2015 when Islamist terrorists entered the building and killed about 90 people in the crowd as part of a co-ordinated attack targeting numerous sites that evening.

As part of their response, the band encouraged other artists to cover this particular track, and that all royalties generated would be given to Josh Homme’s (a founding band member) charity, Sweet Stuff Foundation, which in turn would pass the monies to victims of the attack.

In the song, the lyrics include the lines:

I can tell by that look in your eye

You’re looking and all you see is another guy

I can tell you’re gonna take your love away

I can tell by that look in your eye

You’re looking and all you see is another guy

I would beg you if I thought it would make you stay

 I wonder whether this is how God sometimes feels when looking at humanity. God loves us more than we can possibly imagine, and yet our propensity is not to return that love but to cast our eye around for other objects to love – whether people, power, money, and other things beside. Yet God does not beg for our love. No. Instead, God comes to us as one of us, born a tiny child and laid in a manger, growing up to walk the earth as one of us, before dying a brutal and ugly death on a cross prior to revealing the love that will not ever die in the resurrection. From the his first breath to his last, Jesus is God’s saying to us, “I love you all the time”.

 The responses to the Play It Forward campaign, as it became known, are gathered together on a playlist (https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2m1wKfQbPfHxDypBycFyUo?si=e29efced718c4e67) that currently contains 68 versions of the song – produced by everyone from the legend that is Sir Elton John to the choir of St Lawrence Primary School, plus artists covering every genre from rock through electro-pop to folk. That’s quite some response. One song, representing the way in which love will always overcome hate, that however small and inconsequential love can feel in the face seemingly all-powerful, all-encompassing, all-destroying hate, love will find a way to speak out, to reveal itself as unvanquished – whether in the singing of a song, or in the cry of a baby.

 So as we journey towards Christmas in a world that so often seems challenging, let us rejoice that God loves us – All. The. Time!

Jane writes:

A few years ago I asked a friend, who really loves music, to recommend a track that would offer some energy in the early mornings of a busy work weekend. They responded with this track as a suggestion (saying they liked it and it might be the kind of thing I was looking for).

I liked it from the start as it’s one of those tracks that builds through to an exuberant chorus time after time. I’ve danced around the kitchen to it. I’ve bounced along in the car to it. I’ve recommended it to, and shared it, with others. I’ve sung it at the top of my voice and it has indeed brought me great ‘Joy Joy’ – real Joy.

I have though, a sneaking suspicion that the joy this band sing of is somewhat artificially induced. Maybe chemically. Maybe money. I could be overthinking the lyrical content but it seems likely that, despite the question “Is what you want exactly what you need?” – the search is on to reach oblivion.

Joy at all costs.

In this Advent season though, as we prepare to welcome the Christ child again into our midst, we have an opportunity to experience real joy of a different deeper kind. The kind that reminds of a long-standing truth – God meeting humanity in the person of Christ. God showing us the way to live and inspiring all we do. God with us Emmanuel. God eternal and life-giving. This is a joy that bubbles up as these revelations once again seem more real. That is deep-seated and never leaves us.

I’m not immune to the fact that Joy at Christmas can be artificially manufactured too. Gifts, nights out, endless jingly tunes in shops, TV ads, church fêtes, Christmas specials I could go on…..

So I hope and pray this year the deep-seated Joy Joy – real Joy – comes to you in a quiet or unexpected moment and that it lasts you an eternity.

Fidge writes:

During Advent, we recall the words of Isaiah who foretells the coming of Jesus as the ‘Prince of Peace’ who will bring justice and peace to the earth. 

For to us a child is born,
    to us a son is given,
    and the government will be on his shoulders.
And he will be called
    Wonderful Counsellor, Mighty God,
    Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. 

When I think of the world today, it seems we are longing for some sense of peace right now. War, conflict, divided nations, fake news, domestic abuse, modern slavery, knife crime, drugs, cost of living crisis…. the list could be endless. So where do we, and how can we find and experience peace in our world?

As I’ve been thinking about the word peace, I’ve been pondering on my own experience of peace and recalling the times, places, situations when I have felt peaceful. 

This year, my wife Lin and I along with our woofie Lizzie Lugs, escaped for a week to a remote cottage in Glen Etive in the Highlands (if you’re a 007 fan, you’ll know it as the road to Skyfall where M and Bond stop to take a breather, admire the view). To get to the cottage we drove down a single-track road off the A82 at Glencoe and then onto a rugged farm road, through several gates, past the Highland cows and eventually to the cottage, a remote old shepherd hut dwelling. No WIFI, no TV, just rolling hills, breathtaking scenery, the river running through the Glen, clean fresh air and no light pollution so we could see the stars! Glen Etive is our Happy Place – a place where we find peace. But I realise that what is peaceful for us, may seem unbearable and stressful for others.  

What does peace feel like for you? How, when and with whom do you experience it?

The song ‘Peace’ is written and performed by an Australian band called Fruit. I first stumbled across them some 25 years ago when they performed at the Edinburgh Fringe and have loved their music ever since. I think the band split but continued as individual artists. Here they recall the feeling of peace as a place, with a person and when these things come together and are in alignment, strength, hope and courage are found. 

I love this song – I find it peaceful to listen to. But more importantly I love the notion that potentially peace opens up something else for us and within us – courage to speak out, to tend the earth carefully, strength to be and do more than we thought imaginable. In this, we understand that peace and justice go hand in hand. 

The invitation for this second week of Advent is to notice where and when you feel peace or when you catch a glimpse of peace and of course, to pray for peace. 

The Song Peace is found on the Album Burn (2005) and a live recording of it on the Album The Trio Album- Live at the Church (2004)

Gill writes:

I have to admit that this song is one of my favourites from the 80s. I have long hoped that I could use it someday for a Friday Fix. And so here we are: I get to use it to challenge a common perception of what hope may be.

To slightly twist the opening lyrics of this song:

It’s time we should talk about hope

There’s no secrets kept in here

Because I think we have a tendency to get hope wrong; or at the very least misunderstand it. Hope is not the wishful thinking of this song; it’s not wishing on a star; it’s not a warm and fuzzy feeling of optimism and possibility.

Just as God is not just a noun but a verb too, hope is also not just a noun but a verb. Brené Brown points out that hope is not even an emotion but a cognitive process where emotions do play a role, but they are much more about the decisions and actions you take.

Hope is not born out of the easy and comfortable times. It’s born out of those times of struggle and adversity. Those spaces where we feel stuck, helpless and powerless. Hope is the process that leads us to set goals and navigate our way through those challenging times. Hope is definitely not something passive.

Hope, as I’ve already said, is not wishful thinking. Hope requires us to be actively involved and consequently it means that we have a responsibility for hope too. Brené Brown talks about the work of CR Snyder in her book ‘Daring Greatly’. Snyder believes that hope is learned – again indicating that it is not passive and wishful.

The word hope comes originally from the Old English word “hopa” which means “confidence in the future”. Perhaps this is about having notions of faith and trust in God. Or for those of no faith, perhaps it’s about recognising life’s mysteries and looking beyond ourselves for answers that helps us sustain hope.

Which leads me to believe that sustaining hope is a collective effort. In so many different ways, we can have and share in hope for each other. In those moments when we are the one who can’t see the wood for the trees and are in the depths of despair, we need someone else who can bring hope into the space. And on those days when we are the ones filled with hope, perhaps we can be the one holding that hope for others so that they can carry on.

As we journey into Advent, hope is on the horizon. Let’s hold onto this hope, no matter what challenges lie ahead. Let’s not just leave it to wishful thinking. And let’s ask ourselves the question, what hope are we bringing and sharing with others? We’re not passive and full of wishful thinking are we?

You can find out more about China Crisis and their current tour at musicglue.com/chinacrisis or on Instagram @chinacrisismusic

This coming Friday and for the Fridays during Advent, we’re dropping a reflection each week that relates to the familiar Advent themes of Hope, Peace, Joy and Love.

We hope that you enjoy them!

Tom writes:

Songs can be tricky things. While I am deeply committed to the use of secular music in sacred worship, I do recognise that it is not always a simple thing to do. Sometimes this is because they are deeply ambiguous, and sometimes it’s because, while the song itself is fine the artist presents problems because of their wider views or behaviour. Sometimes, though, it’s because you think part of a song says just what you need, but another part says something rather different to where you’d like to go.

An example of this is the song “Woodstock” (originally written and performed by Joni Mitchell, but arguably performed definitively by either Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young or Matthew’s Southern Comfort, depending on taste and geography – I’m a CSNY man, myself). I love the opening lines of the chorus:

We are stardust, we are golden,

We are billion-year-old carbon [ final verse: we are caught in the devil’s bargain]

I’ve preached on those words, in particular on Ash Wednesday, in the light of the words: “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return. Turn away from sin and be faithful to Christ.” For we are indeed dust, star dust, elements that are billions of years old. Ultimately, we are not creators but part of creation. Those of us who have a Christian faith must be absolutely clear that our responsibility to the environment is not so much rooted in some sense of benevolence towards the planet we happen to live on, but a necessary part of recognising that we are simply one part of a vast creation for which God, the Creator, has an eternal love. It’s wonderful (in my view) when there’s a secular song we can turn to in order to highlight theology – after all, we live in a world where secular songs are more likely known than church ones!

However, as much as I love the song generally, and in particular those chorus words, I also have a big problem with the song – and especially how the chorus ends: “And we got to get ourselves/ Back to the garden.” It is a tempting feeling – the world is going to hell in a handcart, and the way out is to reverse back to a time when things were better. It’s a temptation open to both the secular and the religious – history is littered with forms of socio-political philosophy and theology that look back to some supposed golden time period. Sociologically, it’s often agrarian, and in theological terms it’s often about trying to somehow recover our place in the Garden of Eden before the fall of humanity.

Yet, to me, this looking back seems deeply unbiblical. It seems to me that, for Christians, the direction of travel is not an attempt to get back to the garden but to seek out the city of God. Now, do not get me wrong, I am not an urbanist, who thinks the earth’s population should base itself in urban conurbations. Nor am I some kind of neo-Victorian progressivist, who thinks that the future is always better than the past, and that human/ecological improvement is a natural given. Rather, it is that a) while the past is vitally important to working out how we have ended up where we’ve got to and might give clues as to errors needing to rectified it is not a map of the future, and b) as a theologian I think it clear that the scriptural direction of travel is forwards from a Garden to a City, at least in a metaphorical, mythical way.

We’re not long off Advent as I write this. I often describe Advent as a time when we wait for that which has already been and remember that which will be – for Advent is a much about the Second Coming (however we understand that phrase) as it is about the original Incarnation. And in this waiting and remembering it is important to be aware that what will be is not what was. We are indeed start dust, a part of the Creator’s beloved creation, but the destiny of that creation is not what it once was, but something new, something better, something brilliant, and we won’t get there by walking where we’ve come from, however appealing that might be!