We’re on the lookout for more Friday Fixes so ‘why don’t you’ have a go at writing one for us?
All you need to do is think about why you’ve been singing that song in the shower each morning this week – or why that track is endlessly on your playlist. Jot down why you like it. Is there a funny or poignant story associated with it? Does it make you want to spring into action? Did it change your life or the way that you think about things?
Go and switch off your television set and go and do something less boring instead by writing a Friday Fix and send it to Gill at thomasg@methodistchurch.org.uk.
I have a lot to thank Rachel Held Evans (RHE) for. She gave me and thousands of others, the confidence to question, to wander, and to wonder about their faith in God and the church that they belonged to. Her book ‘Searching for Sunday’ follows the story of her searching for her ‘church tribe’ – a community of believers where she could feel both at home and on holy ground.
It’s three years this week since RHE died, and she still nudges people to deconstruct their faith. For many, it can be an upsetting and disruptive process that can take years as they start to ponder what they truly believe about God, Jesus, faith, and spirituality. For many going through deconstructing their faith, it can feel like they’ve been cast adrift or are being carried along with something that just doesn’t feel completely true anymore. Some might even think that they’ve been ‘stupid for a while.’
Knew the signs Wasn’t right I was stupid for a while Swept away by you And now I feel like a fool So confused My heart’s bruised Was I ever loved by you?
Some are rejected by their church for questioning and doubting. Some are made to feel like they are doing the rejecting – here are the people who they grew up with, learned together with, shared with and all of a sudden (or perhaps over quite some time), they don’t feel like they quite fit any longer. It begins to feel as though what you knew well and anchored your faith isn’t what you thought it was.
Out of reach, so far I never had your heart Out of reach Couldn’t see We were never Meant to be
For some who come from more fundamental or conservative evangelical circles, it can be incredibly painful to deconstruct faith. They are not only rejected by their church but can find themselves on the receiving end of some aggressive behaviour from those who they thought loved them.
So much hurt So much pain Takes a while To regain What is lost inside And I hope that in time You’ll be out of my mind And I’ll be over you
But now I’m So confused My heart’s bruised Was I ever loved by you?
There’s a whole lot of fear around deconstructing your faith. Fear of the unknown. Fear of losing the familiar. Fear of being different and vulnerable.
Deconstructing your faith is not about destroying it – it’s actually part of deepening it. It’s about letting go of restrictions and cultures of church that are more concerned with doing things in a certain way. It’s about being concerned with doing right, rather than being right. It’s about doubting and questioning because when this happens, you are really grappling with deeper stuff.
Our churches need to be spaces that allow testing and trying out; of doubting and opting out; of asking questions that make all of us feel uncomfortable – and of loving people all the more when they are doing so. People may move from one fold to another one. That’s okay because they are safe; that’s okay because they feel like they belong where they can flourish and love God all the more.
If they are loved and cherished and move to pastures new, we can take heart that we cared for them and they are following where God is leading them.
In my reach, I can see There’s a life out there For me
Music is a fascinating thing. Why you like it and when you connect with it. Sometimes it’s all about the lyrical content – this blog is testament to that. Other times it is about chord structure and harmony, and all that one note does when it hits you deep down in your core. It can also be about how much of your cold hard cash you’ve invested in it or, and this is more my thing, the sense of time and place it brings up from when it was first on your radar.
This track though connects with me because of a person. A dear friend and colleague who died in recent weeks. A man interested in others, and who carried an overwhelming sense of justice at the top of the list in the important things of faith. A gentle human who took the time to care and listen. A soul who was great at his job and knew his stuff. A navigator of the complexities of life, sometimes with more success than others. A funny, witty, and occasionally provocative storyteller. A guy with a lilting and rich voice who sang often and especially this song on request.
I don’t really know what happens when a person dies, but I certainly know what I’d like to think could be in store for a God-filled man like this one. Maybe the answer for me lies in a heavenward look to the stars and a listen to this song. A constant reminder that this gracious soul, full of light, made a dent in our lives, and the world was a better place for having him in it.
We hope that you are enjoying our Lent Friday Fixes from children and young people.
We’re still in need of one more Friday Fix for Lent so if you know anyone under 18 who loves music and would like to share why they like a particular song, please encourage them to send it in.
A grown-up could write it on their behalf, or forward it to us. A voice note would work too if they would prefer to record and send it. The email to send it to is thomasg@methodistchurch.org.uk.
We’re thinking about something different for Lent 2022.
We wondered if there are children and young people aged 18 and under who would like to share what they like about a song – it can be from the charts, from a musical, from someone older’s record/CD/playlist collection.
So – if you’re a grown-up who knows a child or young person who might like to send us a ‘Fix,’ please encourage them to do so. They can write it or send a voice note to Gill – it doesn’t have to be very long or finely tuned as we can shape it into a blog post. Gill’s email address is thomasg@methodistchurch.org.uk.
It’ll be three years in May when our first Friday Fix dropped on the blog. Since then, our following has slowly grown, more comments have been shared and contributors to the blog have come from further afield.
If you’ve been following for a while and have a popular song that you could share a reflection about, we’d love to hear from you. Is there a song from a special moment? A tune that pulls at your heart strings? A vibe that captured a particular feeling? Just jot down how that song makes you feel or what it reminds you of – and send it to Gill at thomasg@methodistchurch.org.uk. She’ll do what’s needed to turn it into a Friday Fix.
In the meantime, here’s a little infogram for those of you who like statistics…
The first time that I heard Luke Sital Singh was from quite a distance. In fact, his set started just as we began walking our son (aged 9 at the time) back to our tent at Greenbelt (being conscientious parents, we’d opted for a late-night the next night as Sinead O’Connor was headlining then).
Luke’s music echoed through the trees and across the camping fields, and I remember thinking “I need to listen to this guy’s music when I get home.” Of course, I got home and didn’t really think much more about Luke Sital Singh and his music. That’s until Spotify decided a couple of years ago that I needed to hear his music again. Algorithms are a blessing sometimes I guess!
I’ve been playing this song a lot lately. It helps me to feel grounded. It reminds me that you’re meant to feel life. We can’t know for sure but the first few weeks of human life must be an incredibly painful and shocking time really. Coming from a cocooned, warm world into a bright, cold, noisy place. That’s where the opening lines take me – to that moment of birth; that moment when we gasp our first breath –
I can taste it in my mouth I am hanging upside down All the faces gathered round To wait and see, to breath relief To call my name for the first time
It feels like life is rather surreal at the moment. We had COP26 and it’s looking like it was all ‘blah, blah, blah.’ after all. We’ve had a year without Trump in the White House but US politics still seems to be on fragile ground. Lies, deceit, corruption, abuse of power and trust seem to be our daily diet in the UK, all wrapped up in relentless reporting of Covid statistics and stories.
I really connect with the visceral sense of both the music and lyrics of this song. It reminds us what life is all about. We hurt, we lie, we bleed, we breathe. We’re organic beings, not mechanical systems. We’re unpredictable, creative, envious, empathic, disgusted, in love, furious, entranced and so on, and so on.
I can face it just about I’d rather hurt than live without But I will rage and scream and shout A love, a life, it’s dark and bright It’s beautiful and it’s alright
And there is something within us that keeps us going and pulls us through. A belief and knowledge that nothing lasts forever. That tomorrow is a new day bringing hope, and with it is the potential for us to change. That’s not to say that we should gloss things over because hope is on the horizon, but because hope is on the horizon, we can own up to and handle our very human thoughts and feelings.
Everyone is yearning for a reason for a cause Somewhere deep inside we’re holding on for dear life
So whatever you are feeling on this Friday in January, you are an amazing human creation that was born to live and to feel life. And you are loved. So cry your eyes out, fill your lungs up. We all lie, we all hurt and nothing stays the same.
The Friday Fix 