Category: 2023

Tom writes:

I have sometimes described my secondary school as “below bog standard”. To be clear, that is, I am sure, the way many locals looked at it, and the way the local education authority viewed it – especially based on the fact it no longer exists, its buildings flattened and built over with a housing estate whose only nod to the area’s former use being the road names referencing authors such as JRR Tolkien and Agatha Christie! And I cannot say that my time there was always the happiest a child has ever experienced. But the teachers were undoubtedly committed, and looking back I am nothing but grateful for the experiences attending that school gave me, learning to live alongside people whose daily experiences of life were very different to mine as a bright, academically-inclined, often shy, village-based, vicarage-raised, white, straight kid.

Some of my happiest memories from that time are from my GCSE art classes. Art was not my strongest subject, but I enjoyed it, and it was also a class that was not streamed (there weren’t enough pupils taking the subject to enable it to be). This meant that I was in class with kids who were much better than me and kids who were taking it precisely because it was a non-academic subject and therefore an escape from their struggles with numbers or letters. It was also taught in a relaxed classroom environment – which meant we were allowed music on in the background, music of our choosing!

It was in this environment that I was introduced to the music of Guns & Roses. I suspect that many church-goers, not just then but even now, would be shocked by the thought of a good Christian kid like me listening to such a band. They would be even more shocked, I suspect, by an ordained minister actively encouraging people to listen to their music! To be clear, I am not condoning the behaviour of band members, whose life-choices have regularly epitomised everything negative the media have ever suggested about sex, drugs, and rock and roll. Yet, as I learned studying art alongside some of those classmates, those who have experienced the darkest that life has to offer can frequently ask the brightest questions.

So it is that we find the imperfect people that are Axl, Slash, Duff and company asking significant questions of humanity’s propensity towards acting violently towards one another in their 1990 song, “Civil War”.

I will admit to being someone who accepts the ideals of pacificism while believing the pragmatic response to the evils of the world sometimes requires a violent response. I wish it didn’t. I have no doubt that all war, all violence is sin. But I also believe that the world places us in no-win situations where the spider’s web of what we may choose to call original sin forces us to rely on God’s unlimited grace because whatever we do will place us in need of it. And the words of this song, as much as anything else, challenge me in that position.

So it is that when I hear of wars and the rumour of wars, and when I am half way to being convinced that maybe some wars might be justified, I return to the voice in the background of those GCSE art classes, provoking me to once again reflect deeply on God’s demonstration on the cross that violence is never the answer, as Axl Rose asks at the very end of the song, “What’s so civil about war anyway?”

I haven’t yet come to the conclusion that war and violence are always avoidable, but I accept it is never a civil response to the difficulties of the world, and that our propensity to turn to it as a first response, and even our willingness, my willingness, to turn to it as a last resort leaves us forever in need of God’s grace. Who’d have thought that GCSE art classes would have such a lasting impact?

Tom writes:

My experience of depression is that it plays havoc with my memory. It especially causes you to replay bad memories, and tries to tell you that these are the only memories important to understanding your place in the world – like a vinyl record or CD that’s been scratched and keeps playing a particular phrase on repeat. It helps, therefore, to have memories that you can bring to the forefront of your mind that can, somehow or other, overlay or push aside the worst with, if not the best then, at least, better.

As you might guess, for me those positive memories are almost always innately linked with a soundtrack of some kind or another, and none so more than the one attached to Mancunian modern jazz trio GoGo Penguin’s ‘Last Words’:

It was the middle summer of my probation as a presbyter and the Black Dog was as large and overpowering as I have ever known him. My head was so firmly in the grip of his fearsome jaws that I was signed off by my doctor. I was exhausted by his company but could not rid myself of him. And so I lay on my bed, unfeeling and uncaring. On the stereo was the debut album of a jazz group I’d heard about on the radio a few weeks earlier. I wasn’t deliberately listening, it was just noise, something in the background to avoid silence that would inevitably leave my canine companion growling in my head.

Then on came the track “Last Words”. I found myself drawn from my bed, energised and compelled to dance around the bedroom, the landing, the other rooms around our first floor. Not dancing in any sensible or ordered fashion. Just free and joyful. And I can give no explanation to this other than the Holy Spirit. In that moment I was joyful and danced before the Lord and knew that God was with me. As the music ended Black Dog overwhelmed me again, and I returned to my bed, the covers wound tightly around me, an emptiness and numbness once again returning to consume me.

Yet now I knew. Now I knew that even in that deep pit God was somehow there, even when I could not see, or hear, or feel any indication that this was so. The band’s video for the song makes clear that the themes of the piece (there are no words) are indeed those of endings, departures, and the saying of goodbye – themes that depression also frequently brings to the forefront of one’s thoughts. However, in this piece I found hope, and joy, and peace, and love, and something to hold onto, to drag to the forefront of my mind whenever the beast that haunts me once again grows to the size of a Baskervillian hound and threatens to consume me.

I have no expectation that my offering of this memory, and in particular this piece of music, will somehow lead to everyone finding God’s presence in this one instrumental – or indeed in music at all. I offer it only to affirm this – that God is present, even when we cannot see, or hear, or feel, and that such presence may well make itself known, even temporarily, in the most surprising of moments, by the most surprising of ways.

Jane writes:

I love a bit of Janis Ian. Her timeless qualities and her writing that seems relevant for all the moments in her life (and ours) means that she always has something to say. I mean just look at “At Seventeen” from way back in 1976 as an example for any anxiety-ridden teenage girl.

This song is one that was penned in 2020. She has spent a lot of time encouraging people to record it for themselves and in as many ways as possible to spread the message. You might find all sorts of versions.

It seems to carry a spirit of eternal optimism

Better times, better times will come. Better times, better times will come

We will dance, we will sing in that never-ending spring

But it comes with a kind of list of caveats and ideas that are needed to make that so

When this world learns to live as one

When we greet each dawn without fear

And when the winds of war cannot blow anymore

In the kind of world we’re facing at the moment I’m not sure Janis’s optimism seems very real. I’m also not convinced that as a society we can do as required to make better times a reality. Are we willing to make the choices needed? How much of it is in our gift anyway? Living alongside each other harmoniously, stopping war, and generally living a fear-free existence because of those two things being in place. It takes effort.

Yet as we come to that part of the church year when we see Easter on the horizon I wondered how much resonance there was with the sense of hopelessness of those first disciples after the death of Jesus. I wonder if the messages of loving our neighbour are the ones we need to hear again? I wonder if the spirit of the early church, which encompassed sharing and caring for each other and those less fortunate with no support network, was embraced again now the better times may feel more real.

This Lent and Eastertide it seems then it’s worth just picking up one task, offering one loving word, or one act of protest that might mean better times for everyone. Oh and don’t forget to have a sing as you go.

Janis Ian and Neil Finn, who sings on this version, are both making music https://janisian.com/ https://www.neilfinn.com/

Lynne writes:

“Being heard is so close to being loved that, for the average person, they are almost indistinguishable.” (David W. Augsburger, Caring Enough to Hear and Be Heard)

One drizzly morning in September 2019, sat in the ‘Honky Tonk’ venue on day two of The Long Road Festival, I had the great joy of discovering the wonderful Danni Nicholls and her beautiful music. It was a happy accident – my dad, sister and I had just attended the quiz event (we did not do well) and had nowhere in particular to be. So, because we had seats and it was miserable out, we stayed to see who would next take the stage. During Danni’s set, which largely featured her recently-released Melted Morning album, I found myself actually moved to tears, such was the power of the melody, lyrics and her gorgeous voice.

For me a stand-out track (on that stand-out album) is the soulful empowerment song, Hear Your Voice. It was co-written with the equally awesome Kyshona Armstrong, in the wake of the ‘Me Too’ movement and inspired by personal experience (and their anger and frustration at the way some women’s stories are dismissed or silenced). Hear Your Voice is a call for women everywhere with a story to tell to ‘sing it out’ and a message that we need to work towards everyone feeling safe to do this.

When you are ready to step into your power

The bridges you’ll burn will light your way

And when you are marching down that road

Know that you are not alone

When the curtain falls

And the cast is bowed

When the crowd is gone

And the light fades out

I wanna hear your voice

Sing it out

Whilst Hear Your Voice was written as a reaction to the marginalisation, abuse and manipulation of women, it is an effective call to allyship with oppressed and persecuted people everywhere.

Listening is the first step in being an ally, it’s the best way to tackle loneliness and isolation, it demolishes shame and stigma. Listening – especially to someone who is used to being ignored and devalued – holds great power – and gives power where previously people felt they had none.

I see the positive impact that listening can have in my work with young people who have grown too used to being dismissed as ‘trouble-makers’ or worse. Listening is the loving thing to do. It’s what Jesus did as he prioritised the powerless, drew people from the margins to the centre, and embodied a vision of shalom where everyone could flourish.

Every time Jesus interacted with women, with the ‘unclean’, with those of low social standing, we see Jesus serving as an ally.

As another woman I greatly respect, UK campaigner Gina Martin, says:

“[W]hen it comes to people from different backgrounds, with different experiences and especially from marginalised communities, your job is not to talk, but to listen. Then help them get their voices and experiences heard. Pass the mic.” (Gina Martin, Be the Change)

Find out more here: http://www.danninicholls.com

Jane writes:

The Alarm were a band of my youth. A band that the people I hung round with loved and played a lot! A band that seemed to have something to say, and often with a faith bias.

Their album Strength was a must-play and the memories that went alongside – beloved t-shirts, unexpected turns at Greenbelt, sweaty gigs in that sweatbox known as ‘The Hummingbird’ in Brum – are all indelibly inked on my soul.  This was 1985 or thereabouts and as you can tell, it’s a while ago now.

Imagine my joy then when I heard a familiar kind of sound on my release radar playlist. Could it really be them. Well, yes it was!

A new single from a new album due for release this summer

‘Forwards’ was the cry and already the rallying style of this band was evident once again

Whoooaaa Whoooaa

I’m certain that they have been making music over the years but my own encounters with them have been through retrospective tours and Mike Peters, their lead singer, reliving those glory days. This though felt a fresh reminder of where music could take you.

Mike has been unwell with leukemia for many years and last autumn was no different to that. Even now though, he looks forward to helping others through creating a new wellness space alongside creating new music

Living for today. Trying to find a way forwards

On and on and on

Illness, grief or patches of immense despondency can lead us to get lost. People express often a sense of stasis when nothing seems to move and treading the water seems an effort.  Life running in slow motion.  This can often be true of society too.

My life is out there somewhere

I’ve been crawling through the wreckage trying to get myself back home to you

…..I’ve been searching for the way

I have no way of knowing of course, whether this is a rediscovery of self, the truth of faith or a desire for a better world. It is, though, clearly about working out what comes next.

As people of faith we believe that God is part of that equation. Jesus declares “I am the Way”. If we can do one thing today, we may want to give a little thought to what the future holds for us – “The way forwards” – and give a heartfelt nod of thanks to those who stir us up like The Alarm. Play it loud and search for the way at the top of your lungs!

The Alarm are obviously still making new music  https://thealarm.com/

Rachel writes:

It’s 25 years since my mum died, not long after I became a mother myself. Her cousin and sister, ‘the aunties’, stepped in to try and fill the huge hole that she left and became a big part of our family life. Aunty Alice died the year that Mica Paris released her album ‘Gospel’ in the midst of Covid and last week was Aunty Pam’s funeral.

We daughters, and now our own daughters, recognise the mother’s love shining through these words of encouragement, not trying to pretend that everything is alright – it hardly ever is – but rather knowing that everything will be alright; that we are never alone, however much it feels that way and that this too will pass. 

I try not to constrain our mighty God by my own limited human understanding. God is more than Father. God has both a mother’s tough love and practical advice that tells it how it is, but also an impossibly deep compassion in witnessing the pain and suffering of her children.

God knows and sees it all. And encourages us not to give up, to welcome in the new day that is coming. For there is promise, there is hope, and there’s always a light inside that will carry us safe home.

Mama said “Don’t worry where the sun is gone,

You can’t see it shining when everything feels wrong;

Don’t you know your darkest hour’s only 60 minutes long…

And tomorrow’s on its way.”

Mama said, “Don’t give up today.”

I know this night is weighing heavy on your heart

You’re beaten and broken and the world seems so dark

You never thought that you could ever fall so hard

But you’re not as alone as you think you are

I know you’re lost, can’t see the light

But the brightest stars need the darkest night

This storm will pass if you hold on tight

A new day is waiting on the other side

Don’t you know the darkest hour’s

Coming just before the dawn

And tomorrow’s already on its way

Mama said, “Don’t give up today!”

Sometimes it’s hard to see any way out

The weight of this world keeps on dragging you down

So tired and lonely you can’t carry that load

But there’s a light inside that’s going to carry you home

Find out more about Mica Paris at https://www.micaparis.com/

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Gill writes:

A few years ago, I did some work with, and about, ‘Clergy Children’. This included grown-up children, of which I am one. One of the key themes that cropped up for every single person was that of having an itinerant life – we moved where our clergy parent took us. For some, this was distressing and unsettlingly; for others, it was exciting and liberating. I was the latter – I’ve loved and taken to heart every single place that I called home for a while.

Here comes the ‘but’ – BUT I have never really been able to call anywhere my ‘hometown’. I was born in North Devon (which I’m very proud of) – but I’m not from there. The rural Midlands was a fabulous place to be a child – but I’m not from there. I identify most of all with North West England and it’s the nearest to what I call home – but I’m not from there. As an adult, I’ve spent over 20 years living on the East Coast of England – but I’m not from there.

So, for me, this song is a bit of a challenge as I can’t quite sing the words genuinely.

This place is where I’m from
Familiar faces, and the accent’s like a song

Ed Sheeran has a similar sentiment in ‘Castle on the Hill’ where it’s all about familiar faces and places. It’s something that I can, and can’t, identify with. I honestly don’t know what it is like to have been born and brought up in the same place. And then to stay and live your life there as an adult. I think I can imagine what it might be like, but I certainly don’t have the experience to know.

Perhaps this might be a disadvantage for me. I guess that everywhere I have lived, there aren’t friends or family around the corner. Creating a support network in each place takes effort and as you get older, communities seem less likely to welcome the ‘in-comer’. Not because they deliberately exclude, but because they are so established – making space for new people with their gifts and baggage takes effort too.

I’ve mentioned (probably more than once) in a Friday Fix that Liverpool has a special place in my heart. Even though I’m not from there, it was one of the places that really felt like home for a time. If you hadn’t guessed already, Jamie Webster is from Liverpool. It might be 25 years ago since I lived there but I get a sense of home when I hear him singing about the Liver Birds and St George’s Hall – and that it will forever be his saving grace. This I can identify with.

But when I think about the birds and George’s hall
And when they tried to knock us down, and we stood up tall
This city will forever be me saving grace
So no matter where I am
I’ll raise a glass to this place
So, raise a glass to this place

Itinerant preaching has always been a key feature of Methodism, and following the model set by Jesus, John the Baptist, Paul and the Apostles. Jesus left his ‘hometown’ of Nazareth (although he was born in Bethlehem and spent some of his childhood in Egypt, but I guess his family were Nazarenes…) to reach out and preach along the shores of Galilee and on into Jerusalem. He never really went back, and his friends became like family to him.

So perhaps I’m not at a disadvantage. Maybe friends became like family in all the different places I’ve lived, just like Jesus’ friends did. All of these places have helped shape me into who I am today too. Each place has taught me things about myself and about life.

Another advantage, I think, is not getting caught up in town rivalries. I can’t understand the rivalries between Sunderland and Newcastle, Liverpool and Manchester, Cardiff and Swansea, Derby and Nottingham, Black Country and Birmingham, etc. I don’t understand why some towns and cities are ridiculed or rubbished either. Liverpool has had a really unfair reputation over the years but it’s just like any other city – full of talent, hopes and dreams. Other places where I’ve lived have also have negative images too.

This place has cries and screams
But there’s plenty of people
Building hopes and dreams
So here’s to the ones working behind the scenes, a-hum
Gives me a smile, gives me a shiver
When I think of being stood on the river
Everyone’s on the take
But this place, she’s a giver

All this takes me back to Nazareth, a town that was rubbished too. Jesus may have moved away from there but I don’t think he was ever embarrassed to have grown up there. ‘Can anything good come out of Nazareth?’ Nathaniel asked in John 1:46. Nathaniel who was caught up in local town rivalry – coming from Cana of course…

So this song might remind us that we should all be pleased with where we come from. These are the places that have provided space, relationships and opportunities; places that have shaped us. Whether we’re from ‘all over’ or one town only, can anything good come out of Skelmersdale? Kabul? Grimsby? Dundee? Aleppo? Omagh? Preston? Mogadishu? Bangor? Baghdad? Portsmouth?….What do you think?

Alison writes:

In 2009ish La Roux arrived in my awareness, she won a Grammy and was very very cool. Recently this song of hers has been in my play list again

“Tick, tick, tick, tick on the watch

And life’s too short for me to stop

Oh baby, your time is running out“

My dad died in January and I was determined to deliver the work I’d committed to, despite having been ill with fatigue for months the year before. The jury is out as to whether that was foolish or not. But certainly my sub-conscious attitude was

“This time, baby, I’ll be bulletproof

This time, baby, I’ll be bulletproof

This time, baby, I’ll be bulletproof

This time, baby, I’ll be bulletproof”

Then after weeks of crying and getting to the stage where I was so tired I couldn’t work out how to log on to some online learning portal, I finally took time to rest. 

What did Jesus do when he found out a relative of his had died?

“When Jesus heard this [John had been murdered], he withdrew from there in a boat to a deserted place”

Matthew 14.13

This failure of mine to rest isn’t new. I’ve crashed and burned a few times in my life including as a much younger woman. 

“This time, baby, I’ll be bulletproof

This time, baby, I’ll be bulletproof

This time, baby, I’ll be bulletproof

This time, baby, I’ll be bulletproof”

What were the patterns Jesus had from his early working life? 

“In the morning while it was still very dark, he got up and went out to a deserted place, and there he prayed”

Mark 1.35

I’m learning to be present in the patterns of the year. I love to spot a new season coming. I’m very keen on full moons and swimming outdoors and really want those two to happen at once sometime soon. When I do these things I’m much better at rest. 

In Mark 4 Jesus is shown to be teaching using metaphors from nature, and then what does he do? 

Leaving the crowd being him…

Mark 4. 35&36

I’m learning to take space for the rest and the life affirming moments and space. 

Jesus however did this often

“Jesus often withdrew to lonely places to pray”

Luke 5.16

So my prayer this lent is to be present in some simple life affirming moments. 

I’m accepting Jesus’ invitation to step away and pray. I’m praying in these ways and others. 

I’m hoping that maybe this time I’ll learn that I’m not bulletproof

Check out La Roux’s YouTube Channel – https://www.youtube.com/@larouxofficial/featured

Today’s Fix is an article by Nick Horgan for the London Institute of Contemporary Christianity (https://licc.org.uk/). Nick is happy for it to be shared here too.

Nick writes:

‘This is a soul splitting open and exploding into art.’ – Ari Grossman

I’ve been watching complete strangers shed tears, at a loss for words, or opening up about their own mental health struggles, prompted by their first viewing of one song.

I’ve been watching reactions to ‘Hi Ren’, a video performance by independent musician Ren. It’s a nine-minute exploration of the artist’s struggle with self-doubt – compelling in its delivery, deceptive sophistication, and raw honesty. By the end, we are in no doubt this is a life lived, not imagined.

What ‘Hi Ren’ does so well is explore the lie that we are constantly told by the world, the flesh, and the devil (1 John 2:15–17) – you’re not good enough, so just give up.

He puts that devilish whisper on the screen, rather than keeping it in his own head, and in doing so exposes the falsehood that it’s only happening to you, and no one else will understand. It’s a hard watch, as he is bullied, mocked, and accused by a voice that seeks to control, coerce, and diminish his God-given talents. It’s a powerful performance, which engages viewers to the final line.

Tears have been shed as viewers recognise their own hidden thought life in Ren’s, their own struggles with that other voice. Although it starts as a struggle with himself, the source and reality of that voice is ultimately the devil, exposed in a boastful rant.

Hope makes a powerful appearance in the song, too. This is possibly the source of the video’s popularity and ability to connect with viewers. Hope from knowing that someone else has felt the way you feel, that they’d believe you if you told them.

How do we put Jesus at the centre of this desire for hope? How can we bring hope to the mental health epidemic of isolation and anxiety? It’s with the truth that Christ died for all, regardless, so everyone can be whole, healed, and forgiven.

Are we authentic? Do we hide our self-doubts and failings?

Can we open up a conversation with friends and colleagues about whether this song affected us, and invite them to respond?

If there’s a voice whispering ‘it’s not worth trying’, you know who that is and you know that he’s been overcome.

The world seeks our authenticity. Whether with fellow believers, relatives, colleagues, or social companions, we can demonstrate Spirit-led compassion and commitment to those he has put in our lives as we draw alongside them.

Find out more about Ren at https://www.renmakesmusic.co.uk/