‘From A Distance’ is written by Julie Gold and I’ve got the version by Bette Midler (like the video accompanying this post)
I guess for me it’s about how from a distance things look so different – how we as humans prevent the peace that could be there if we co-existed in a harmonious way but that in all things God is present.
It’s a song I listen to when I run and walk. The words make me realise what a tiny cog I am in the wheels of life and how much I appreciate “being”.
“I’m all about accentuating awesomeness” – if I had a line that summed up my calling, it would probably be something like this one – encouraging people to notice and celebrate their awesomeness.
This is such a feel-good song with so many happy memories for me. Harry and Chris are a ‘comedy rap duo’ loved by my whole family from when we first heard/met them at Greenbelt. They always end their gigs with this song and so I have turned to many people in a variety of venues – friends and strangers alike – to tell them “you’re a flipping 10“.
In a world that often pits us against each other, and has us judge and rank people, I think it’s great for us all to tell each other that they could not be any better than they already are. But it’s not just about others – we’re encouraged to remember that we too are ’10’s’. How many of us when we look in a mirror, notice with delight that we are wonderfully made?
Most of us are brought up in competitive cultures where we’re more likely to be self-critical and look for flaws, as the advertisers want us to look and find ourselves lacking so that we feel compelled to spend money instead of smile at our reflection and marvel at how lovely we are.
“Well I’m going to start a revolution today when I look in the mirror and say ‘I’m a flipping 10′”
And what happens when we take our own confident belief in the amazing beings we are, and join with other wonderful human beings who also know that they are fully loved and loveable?
“Put them together, that’s 100%” Ah – to me that is indeed a wonderful world.
Find out more about Harry and Chris here: https://www.harryandchris.com/
At a recent Team Meeting, I shared that our family (well, the parents in it) have been deeply challenged, and yet strangely reassured, by a book and a film lately. The book is called ‘Blueprint’ by Robert Plomin and the film is called ‘Three Identical Strangers’ – and in their own different ways, they explore the ‘nature/nurture’ debate.
There is a tentative connection for us to Plomin’s book because his work is based on a 10-year long ‘Twins Study’ that members of our family were involved in. Twins involved were identical and non-identical; still with their birth families and separated from their birth families. As with any study like this, there are discrepancies and fallibilities but there is a great deal to ponder too.
There were some real revelations for us, both as parents but also as educators; for example, our personalities are much more genetically driven than originally thought; it’s how we engage with our environment that shapes us rather than how we are shaped by the environment; good parenting recognises the nature and personality of the child and enables it; and perhaps the most challenging thing to hear is that education (certainly as it currently delivered) has very little influence on development and ‘success’. If a parent did well at school, there’s overwhelming evidence that the child will too. The twins that were seperated from birth families clearly correlated with their birth parents rather than adoptive parents. How well we are taught and how much we try to ‘mould’ a child has very little impact. Good education systems would be all about responding to the interests, passions and the way a child learns.
Having been a long-time fan of the Barenaked Ladies, this song has crept back into my consciousness lately. It’s all about the labels and expectations we place on our children – even before they are born – and it resonates even more now.
We’ve got these chains Hanging ’round our necks People want to strangle us with them Before we take our first breath
It’s seems like we just can’t help ourselves in labelling and classifying people from the day they are born. We divide people into all kinds of groups which results in heirarchies and division and that, in turn, leads to conflict and antagonism. It’s completely bizarre that we do this and that it then guides and informs the way we interact and respond to each other.
This name is the hair shirt I wear
It’s not only bizarre – but tragic too. The reality is that beneath these labels and classifications we create are real, living, breathing people just like you. A unique human created in the image of God. By reducing people to descriptors, we are reducing God.
As well as this song, my ponderings also led me to revisit Psalm 139 – verses 13 & 14 in particular:
‘You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body and knit me together in my mother’s womb. Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex! Your workmanship is marvelous—how well I know it.’
We’re all unique, amazing creations that don’t deserve to be classified, graded and judged by others. Let’s work to create environments that enable each one of us to grow and flourish with the gifts that we have each been given.
There are some people whose opinion you should always trust when it comes to certain things… those people you know you can count on for restaurant choices, or book recommendations, or what to watch on TV.
My friend Sarah is one of those people when it comes to animation, and she pointed me towards “Hilda” on Netflix at the start of Season 2 by sharing this song.
Based on a series of Graphic Novels, Hilda is a fearless young girl who lives a life of adventure meeting danger and wonderful creatures head on in the company of her best friends Frida and David, and her Deer-fox called Twig.
This song was written and performed by Bella Ramsey, a young actress from Nottingham who voices Hilda in the TV show.
Since January, my kids (4 and nearly 7) have watched every episode multiple times and have relished the adventure discovering trolls and woffs and deer-foxes and giants and elves and rat-kings. My timid and apprehensive ‘nearly-seven-year-old’ even came down the stairs the other day dressed as his favourite character from the show, David.
David is one of those under-represented types in: He’s a boy who is nervous and apprehensive, and who finally ends up joining every adventure not to prove anything to anyone but purely because he knows that as long as Hilda and Frida are by his side, things will be ok. He knows fear, and respects fear, but he doesn’t let it stop him. My boy has discovered a kindred spirit!
The kids ploughed on without me, and I’m still playing catch-up to find out about the latest creatures they’re talking about, and wondering what a Nyssa is and where “Nowhere Space” might be, but I keep coming back to this song.
I think every listen I’ve picked out a different line and thought “That’s where I am today!” or “That’s who I want to be!” Or “That sums up my calling and purpose in a way I could never properly articulate!”
I wonder what you hear today?
Maybe you resonate with the mistakes, and yet know deep down you’re doing your best and that’s ok;
Maybe you’re wrestling with how you make things right;
Maybe you feel like a wanderer, or that you’re journeying through a wilderness (maybe a Lenten one… maybe a beautiful one… maybe a barren one…) and you’re trying to discover something… anything;
Maybe you’re just looking to befriend those you meet on the path of life;
Maybe you’ve reached the point of being willing to claim the adventure of life and are ready to set out no matter what you might find;
Maybe you’ve found contentment in the simple things like cucumber sandwiches and a nice hot cup of tea, in the people around you;
Maybe you’re terrified and need to know there’s someone by your side;
Maybe… Maybe… Maybe… The possibilities are endless in just one song, and the parable or analogy or resonance with our personal journeys as people of faith will be unique to each of us.
But in this season I’m personally claiming my faith as an adventure:
The world is beautiful and I don’t want it to pass me by, so I will help wherever I can. Life is an adventure and I will take you by the hand and show you what I see and understand. The world is mine to roam, so roam I will then go back home. This is the life, the life of an adventurer.
LYRICS:
My name is Hilda I don’t learn from my mistakes But I will do my best No matter it takes
It’s usually my fault But I try to make it right And I do Most of the time
I am a wanderer An honorary troll I roam the wilderness And befriend any soul Giants, Woff or Elf And everything between And the Hound, or Jellybean
This is the life The life of an adventurer This is the life The life of Hilda
Cucumber sandwiches And a nice hot cup of tea My mum, my friends and Twig That will do for me David and Frida are always by my side Even when they’re terrified
The world is beautiful And I don’t want it to pass me by So I will help wherever I can
Life is an adventure and I will take you by the hand And show you what I see and understand
The world is mine to roam So roam I will then go back home
This is the life The life of an adventurer This is the life The life of Hilda The life of Hilda
At the end of last year both Paloma Faith and Little Mix released new albums which fast became my ‘go to’ playlists that I listened to on my daily dog walks. I love Little Mix (is that a confession?) primarily because their standout feature is that all four of them can actually sing (and rather well) – a rare quality, I think, in most all girl (or boy!) bands.
Like many fans, I was gutted when Jesy Nelson announced in December that she was leaving Little Mix after 10 years in the group. How would the group sound without her low tones I wondered?
She announced her departure on Instagram saying that being part of the group had “taken a toll on my mental health.” You may of course remember that Jesy produced a documentary on her mental health struggles ‘Odd One Out’ and received enormous praise for opening up about the cyberbullying she received and the effect that had on her. If you haven’t watched it – please do. It’s the kind of documentary I feel that everyone who journeys with young people and young adults should watch. I was deeply moved by it.
Jesy’s announcement that, “I need to spend some time with the people I love, doing things that make me happy,” made me think of a track ‘Me Time’ on Paloma Faith’s new album (Infinite Things). She sings:
I need some me time
Figuring out who I wanna be time
Saying what I want because I’m free time
No one’s ever gonna mess with me time
I need some dream time
Going places that I’ve never been time
Shut the door and I just wanna scream time
Trust me, I’ll be fine, I just need a little me time
As I listened to the track, I was reflecting that ‘I just need a little me time,’ was probably what Jesy needed.
Wish I could hide somewhere and just be alone
They say they want the best for me but they don’t, no
All of these people think they know better
Done this and done that, tell me whatever
Too many thoughts and noises up in my head…
Perhaps Jesy needed some time out to rediscover herself again and as she said, “it’s time to embark on a new chapter”. I wish her well.
I wonder though, how many of us have needed some ‘me time’ during lockdown? Statistics tell us that Covid-19 has had a huge impact on our children, young people and young adults. Teenagers, in particular, feel more anxious now (10% higher for black and mixed-race teenagers), social support mechanisms (friends, classmates) disappeared and the stigma of being in quarantine heightened mental health issues and lack of wellbeing. Young carers in particular, have felt overwhelmed and stressed(1). We know that there has been a spike in domestic abuse during lockdown(2) and we know that an estimated 6 million folk have fallen into debt, with the biggest increases amongst the poorest households(3).
All in all, our mental health has suffered and we need to pay attention to how we look after ourselves and each other – ‘we need some time, figuring out who we want to be…. and some dream time….’
Perhaps we can use this time of Lent to do just this.. spend some time doing the things that are good for your wellbeing: be in contact with your friends and family (I’ve started writing letters for the first time in about 20 years!), a phone call can make all the difference to a lonely and isolated person, take a walk and look around you, take up a new hobby or learn a new skill or course… the list is probably endless – but above all, look after yourself and gift yourself a little bit of Me Time.
Once upon a time in the mid-80’s, I was a bit grumpy with a number of friends. I was grumpy because they were a bit older than me (as in 18 or 19) and had more economic means that enabled them to get to gigs that I so desparately wanted to go to as well. In other words, they were working or had part-time jobs that raked in reasonable amounts – and 16 year old me had a Saturday job scrubbing and cleaning a bakery for 5 hours for the grand total of £7.
So grumpy Gill didn’t raise funds quick enough to bag tickets for concerts like her friends – awww. One particular gig that I was devastated about was U2’s Unforgettable Fire Tour date at Manchester Apollo in 1984. They all came back fired up as much about the support band as they were about U2 – and that was when The Waterboys nudged into my musical universe.
I rediscovered this song a couple of years ago just before Ellie Goulding’s remake of it – and it regularly makes it on to my Spotify Daily Mixes these days. It never fails to raise my spirits, even on the gloomiest or grumpiest of days (yes – I still do grumpy!).
I love the melody because it makes me want to move – and I love the lyrics because they lift me up and reassure me. Sometimes I imagine it’s a rhetorical conversation between me and Jesus – my questions are being answered, even before I ask them. I use the word ‘rhetoric’ in it’s original sense here – from the ancient Greeks for whom the word captured an appreciation of things being true, good and beautiful; the ability to speak eloquently and persuasively and that the art of rhetoric required virtuous character.
How long will I love you? As long as stars are above you And longer if I can
This song, to me, sums up love that is unconditional – or as much as we humans can envisage unconditional love. That love is there in copious amounts, with leftovers. I know that some people struggle with understanding love, particularly when all that has been experienced has been conditional love but it’s worth bearing in mind that there are no ‘ifs’ with God. God doesn’t love us ‘if’ we do something for God, God loves us because of who we are – regardless.
How long will I want you? As long as you want me to And longer by far
God’s love for us existed even before we were born and unlike human love, it’s not hemmed in by time or circumstances. Our love may be limited but God’s love is not. It’s quite mind-blowing really and I think that’s why this song says so much to me. It’s trying to nail down what loving unconditionally looks like.
What, to me, is even more incredible is that God’s love is not just around me but within me also. Every now and again, my actions or my words are the way that God shows the amazing love and grace to others – and that really is top-level delegation.
How long will I give to you? As long as I live through you However long you say
Fancy trusting me to show others your Love God – that’s quite a responsiblity!
Van Morrison was born in 1945 into a Belfast protestant family. He left school with no qualifications and ‘showed little empathy for others’ and an ‘aggressiveness’. His father had a huge blues collection and it was this sense of dislocation among black musicians that Van tapped into from an early age. He grew from show bands and hit pop groups like ‘Them’ to a major (some would say giant) figure in music. His words, arrangements and voice are a unique interwoven combination. He creates poetry and music, both of which can stand alone, but move seamlessly together.
Van has sought particularly from 1968 onwards to express a journey of the soul. He takes from many faiths to do this. He believes his songs come to him from an outside source. He has often said he considers himself to be a Christian mystic. He might well draw back (depending on what day of the week it was I suspect) from terming himself a practicing Christian. However, there is a lot in his ‘Caledonian Soul’ music for a Christian to use and grow within.
This song poem, ‘In The Garden’ is perhaps one of his greatest and most successful contemplations of the soul. He says that he intended it to be a meditation; he intends to lead the listener and reader through to a sense of tranquillity.
There is a strong tradition of meditation in the church that gradually lost its way from the 18th Century, but had a resurgence in the 20th Century. The 1965 Vatican Council and the Pope Benedict XXVI re-emphasized its role in Lectio Divina, sacred writing. Methodism has had a resurgence of interest in meditation. It has become a valued part of services and in 2005/6 the Methodist church encouraged people to ‘pray without ceasing’ which lasted over 14 months.
The poem/song grounds itself in a person and a place. It gives a starting point for the spiritual musings and journey. It sets up the senses with the use of rain in the streets and then the garden, transposing that to the tears of the girl. This is to move the observer into empathy, a physical as well as spiritual empathy. And this in turn sets up a contrast as we see the new radiance in the girl. The garden is a renewing and renewed place of grace, of joy, of rapture where God and human meet. Again physicality is linked to God at work. The breeze blows, the colours change on her skin. And then the writer is caught up in the ecstasy of the scene:
“And as the shiver from my neck down to my spine ignited me in daylight and nature in the garden.”
One almost feels and sees a trail of gunpowder with a flame traveling along it to ignite a bonfire of feeling.
The writer draws us beyond observing into the feelings of those ecstatic spiritual moments and commune with the world and God. This is a key part of many Christian meditations; the moment when intellectual thought, mental awareness, heightened senses, heightened awareness and spiritual openness co-join with the presence of the Holy Spirit – or, as Van puts it, the Holy Ghost. Often Methodist meditation will use a physical object, like a candle to draw in and focus the mind and spirit. It is about being in a place where the presence of God, the Holy Spirit, can be recognised and felt.
Sarah Middleton writes in ‘Sensing God’ that all five senses are to be employed. She cites so many places in the Bible that enjoin the senses in the moment of realisation of God at work. Among these: Psalm 34:8, ‘taste and see that the Lord is good’; Psalm 141:2, ‘Let my prayer to you be as incense.’ St Paul says that we are God’s incense, the aroma of Christ to the world.
Not many know that the painter Vincent Van Gogh was, at one time a Methodist auxiliary preacher. He wrote about seeing Christ in the eyes of others and referred to Jesus as the ‘ultimate artist’, creating not pictures but people. This is the link between meditation and the senses. Someone like Van Morrison or Van Gogh draws in our physical antennae unites them with our intellect and uses that intermingling to open up our souls to spiritual awareness.
Here is Van painting with words and music and the very physical strains of his own voice, wrestling with the words, his emotions, his limitations to achieve a meditative state for himself and his listeners. He dives into the streams of his engagement with God by portraying it in a sensual and physical action:
“And as it touched your cheeks so lightly. Born again you were and blushed and we touched each other lightly. And we felt the presence of the Christ.”
He then places the experience into a context, saying:
“No Guru, no method, no teacher Just you and I and nature And the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost In the garden wet with rain No Guru, no method, no teacher Just you and I and nature and the Holy Ghost.”
This is not about religious rules and advice. It is about face-to-face, sense-to-sense encounter with the infinite, with God. It is a personal responsibility. Some might decry that as quite New Age. But it goes much deeper than some of that trend’s superficiality.
The music allied to the words: The chord structure has a lilt and flow like water changing its force at different parts of a stream, gathering itself in places, then falling faster down a hillside. Van sings it straight for a few lines and very vulnerably with the guitar strumming harder and softer to show the ebb and flow of emotion. Then gradually he starts to play with the range of notes adding a roughness at times. What follows that is speaking with a singing voice. There is tender whispering over extended lines which gradually, in the repeated last verse, gains steam.
One can feel the awe in Van’s voice, the trembling in his senses, the spiritual impact of the experience of encountering God. The musicians get louder, the guitar is more visible and Van’s voice more strident and full. Then everything drops away to a hush and time slows; a time for the listener’s mind to wander into its own feelings and thoughts.
And at the very end Van begins to bring us out of the meditation; but he leaves an anchor for the experience so we can go back to it. The Father in the Garden. The Infinite standing in this world.
This song is on an album bought in 1988 when vinyl was king and the joy of buying a new turntable and speakers was a day-long outing in a padded room (intentionally for sound quality) – with cups of tea and endless listening to the same thing.
I know this album really well as a result but time passes and new music fills your ears. It was, in fact, the track title then that sprang into my consciousness as I was reading a reflection on what it is to think that something is done and finalised and, at the same time, be well aware that within a nano-second, circumstances will change and the now will be new again.
There’s a lot of stuff swimming around in this little head of mine at the minute.
I am generally a girl who likes closure and clarity – it’s in my personality – and yet, even I have had to learn that the only certainty at the minute is uncertainty, and what seems to be done or important slips away to something else. Its like grappling with jelly. I am also a sensitive soul who occasionally just has to batten down the hatches and “run away” – yet that too is for the large part unsatisfactory against the reality of what we face as a society. God’s Beloved People.
Oh, and alongside that, there’s a lot of procrastinating around at the moment. I’m seeing it everywhere and it’s beginning to wear thin.
“Well we won’t meet again as Local Preachers until we can do so in person.”
“Let’s leave the covenant service until next year when we can be in the building.”
“Let’s not have Holy Communion because meeting on Zoom (substitute another medium here) isn’t real community.”
“Let’s leave that until we can be together and sort it then.”
All of that despite the fact that we have been meeting for work, socialising for life and worshipping the Living God that way for the best part of a year and still we don’t see it as a reality of life as people of faith.
I get it in a way, as I am longing for the days when I can breathe the same air and feel truly connected to others again. Sing together (and I don’t just mean church – our family has a long tradition of it when we gather); natter about something other than death and a virus that’s killing thousands of people, the economy and our resilience; hold hands and hug when words can’t say what you want them to. You get the picture but if we’re not careful, there is something afoot that’s akin to inertia. Our uncertainty leads to inaction. We breed our own malaise. I breed my own malaise.
So for me this song title alone is enough to jolt me from that kind of slumber and complexity. The writer is, I’m pretty sure, not writing about a global pandemic but the words are so provocative around how we act in response to what we actually place value on and how we love one another.
If not now, then when?
If not today,
Then, why make your promises?
A love declared for days to come,
Is as good as none.
We have just been through a period of preparation and waiting. “Noticing” in readiness for remembering the incarnation of God and as a tradition we value this waiting space. It has something to teach us and as we approach Lent, the same messages will be heard. Time to stop – to think – to wait.
The Bible though, is also littered with passages of urgency, agency and grasping opportunity. Stories of fleeing persecution in the midst of chaos, building an Ark, upping sticks and venturing out into the unknown, following a star just because you think you should, changing plans to use other routes, healing the sick, following a call to leave fishing nets there and then, getting out of a tree, offering the Good News to anyone who listens, recognising the kingdom of God is already at hand within each one of us and therefore changing to a new way of living. I could go on. It advocates prayer and listening to God but does it really ever say “well….. it’s a bit tricky so you wait a bit until the dust settles”.
As people of faith we make promises to God that we will live in a way that shows others this God of love that is constant and faithful, yet ever-changing and renewing. That we will step out and step up when required to. That we are sure God is with us. ‘Cause if not now, then when? If not today, then, why make your promises? Don’t mis-hear me. This is tough. It isn’t always doable and it isn’t about being busy with stuff just to be distracted.
We are in difficult and uncertain times but we are here. It is for me about seeing that life now is what it is and God is a God for now – not later, not eventually, not in due course – NOW!
We’re coming to the end of January – the month with at least 60 days in it or at least, that’s what it feels like. It’s also, for many, a month of clean slates and new starts; a month where some of us try to change habits and behaviours to live better lives and to be better people. For Methodists, January often brings Covenant Services – and in particular, the Covenant Prayer which you can find at the bottom of this post.
This yearly act in Methodism enables a revisiting and a renewal of commitment to relationship with God. The ebb and flow of life means that our relationships ebb and flow too – including the one with God. For many, the Covenant Service can feel like a harbour in the tempest – life can be choppy and frightening at times so setting anchor for a while in a safe, calm harbour gives us the chance to return and reconnect with God
I saw the sun begin to dim And felt that winter wind Blow cold A man learns who is there for him When the glitter fades and the walls won’t hold ‘Cause from then, rubble What remains Can only be what’s true If all was lost There’s more I gained ‘Cause it led me back To you
These are the opening words of the final song of ‘The Greatest Showman’ and to me, the whole song is about coming back to what is important and making a commitment to value it more and never take it for granted. It’s the point in the film where Barnum realises that he is nothing without all those people around him – who support him, challenge him & encourage him to be who he is.
Although the Covenant Prayer is a one-one interaction with God, it’s also an act of community too. For our relationship with God to grow and flourish, we need each other to help nurture our gifts and graces – just like Barnum realises in this song. It’s a public declaration to say ‘it’s not just about me, it’s about you too’. Without you, I am not me.
And from now on These eyes will not be blinded by the lights From now on What’s waited ’til tomorrow starts tonight It starts tonight And let this promise in me start Like an anthem in my heart From now on From now on From now on
The video I chose to share is not the slick, final product but one that has it’s own story to tell. It captures an incredibly powerful moment in rehearsals when the song takes on meaning and energy and a life of it’s own. Even watching it causes me to be consumed by the emotion in that space and to hear that Hugh Jackman couldn’t stop himself rehearsing it – even though his doctors told him he couldn’t sing (he was recovering from an operation on the side of his nose) – says something about the power of song and connection.
We all fall short in our relationships – with each other and most definitely with God. We collude; we don’t intervene; we massage our egos; we only see the world from our perspective; we look after ‘number one’. So how affirming; how reassuring; how amazing to know that we can ‘come back home’, repent, renew our commitment and give ourselves to the relationship that we have with God.
“I am no longer my own but yours.
Your will, not mine, be done in all things,
wherever you may place me,
in all that I do
and in all that I may endure;
when there is work for me
and when there is none;
when I am troubled
and when I am at peace.
Your will be done
when I am valued
and when I am disregarded;
when I find fulfilment
and when it is lacking;
when I have all things,
and when I have nothing.
I willingly offer
all I have and am
to serve you,
as and where you choose.
Glorious and blessed God,
Father, Son and Holy Spirit,
You are mine and I am yours.
May it be so for ever.
Let this covenant now made on earth
Be fulfilled in heaven.
Amen.
(Methodist Worship Book: page 288-289)
If you’d prefer the film version of ‘From Now On’ – here you go:
The Friday Fix 