There have already been many moving tributes to Sinéad O Connor who sadly died this week. She was inspirational in the way she used her voice – the raw emotion coming through as she sang, and her courage in speaking up about really important matters, whether it be refugees, abuse, or the way Irish history has been portrayed.
Saddened by her death, like many, I took the opportunity to play songs I’d not listened to for a while. I had forgotten her beautiful “This is to Mother You”, the words of which speak to me of how God is when I need her most.
This is to mother you
To comfort you and get you through
Through when your nights are lonely
Through when your dreams are only blue
This is to mother you
I have felt God’s comfort on lonely nights. I have imagined being held in her loving arms. Clearly, this song will have specific resonance for some – I’m fortunate enough to have been well-mothered. How powerful to have these words in our heads at those times we most need to be cherished.
The next verses continue to reassure me that God takes all that troubles me and instead offers tender love:
All the pain that you have known
All the violence in your soul
All the wrong things you have done
I will take from you when I come
All mistakes made in distress
All your unhappiness
I will take away with my kiss, yes
I will give you tenderness
The sense of being known, loved and held is so valuable to me and so this next verse resonates especially:
For child I am so glad I’ve found you
Although my arms have always been around you
Sweet bird although you did not see me I saw you
However you feel right now, I hope you know you too are seen and loved.
You know when you have those moments in group situations where you have to share something slightly ‘unusual’ about yourself in an icebreaker?
Mine would be ‘I’ve never been on a package holiday.’
Well yes, I’m sure I’m not alone in this but every summer my Facebook feed is bombarded with friends having a lovely time on holidays that others have arranged for them – TUI, Mark Warner, Jet2, Thomas Cook, etcetera, etcetera. The package holiday thing has just never appealed to me because I love planning our holidays so much and I wouldn’t want to delegate it to someone else to do.
In another life, I think I would have enjoyed being an independent travel agent. In fact, when I did the Golden Circles exercise in finding your ‘why,’ it was all centred around journeying and finding yourself in different places. I wonder if Thomas Cook fancy trialling a chaplaincy role…
Anyhow, I digress.
Travel and new places have always excited me. And it brings even more joy to travel to new places with my husband and son. Every time we travel together, I can taste the excitement and sense of adventure that the three of us feel and share in together. In this respect, I know that Rob, Max and I are truly kindred spirits.
Along with researching and booking our travel and accommodation (from tents to camper vans to gites to hotels), I will also spend a good while looking at potential days out – places that I know we’ll all enjoy or that might surprise us. Every day is a learning day in our family.
And, of course, every holiday needs a playlist. Again, compiled around what each of us likes with a few extras thrown in. The extras are often songs relating to the area that we’re visiting – or they might be about journeys and travel.
This song by Rita Ora is one of my favourites to pop on the playlist when we’re taking a road trip in Europe. As soon as I hear it, I’m transported to autoroutes or autobahns with the road lying ahead of us with a different place to stay that night. This song, to me, means holidays and freedom.
Over the hills and far away A million miles from L.A. Just anywhere away with you I know we’ve got to get away Someplace where no one knows our name We’ll find the start of something new
I think I can speak for all of my family when I say that we find it energising and life-giving to arrive in an unfamiliar place where we may not speak the language and with very few Brits around (if any). That nudge just out of the comfort zone into the growth zone builds confidence, understanding and stretches your mind perfectly.
Stretching your mind – come on Gill, you’re on holiday! You should be stretching your legs out on a lounger by the pool or on a beach, I hear you say. And that’s perfect – for others; rest comes in different forms for each of us. For me, my mind switches off completely from everyday things because of all the unfamiliar places and new things around me.
In fact, there are 7 types of rest (a nice biblical number there) and this is what any type of holiday can gift us.
physical – sleeping and napping, but also stretching and massage
mental – regular breaks where your focus changes
spiritual – prayer, meditation, mindfulness
emotional – space and time to identify feelings
social – spending time with people who support and energise us
sensory – closing your eyes or being in a dark or quiet space
creative – appreciating nature, art, beauty
Rest is so, so important for us humans. It’s easy in our busy, stressful world to not make proper space for it; I think many people feel guilty when they rest – and I think that there are people who interfere and don’t enable people to rest properly either. Those amongst who take their work phone on holiday and are ‘contactable’ in an emergency are just not resting properly. Are any of us so important that the ‘office’ can’t operate without us for 10-14 days?
So – if you are having a summer holiday in the next few weeks – enjoy your rest. And if you are travelling, may you travel with those who you would go anywhere, just anywhere, with.
Gill’s much-loved Blur aren’t the only band making a come-back this year. Another band doing so are Foo Fighters. For sure, they haven’t been gone that long, but on the back of the sudden death of drummer Taylor Hawkins (a drummer who steps into Dave Grohl’s seat and not only succeeds but thrives is a drummer who will be sorely missed!) the question was understandably asked by fans as to whether they would be back again. It was undoubtedly asked by the band too.
Yet here they are, back with a new drummer, Josh Freese, and a new album – an album I personally think is one of their most powerful to date. Understandably, it is an album that audibly processes the grief that the band experienced at the sudden and unexpected death of their great friend and drummer. It is also, as songs such as The Teacher make clear, also an album that includes Grohl’s processing of his grief following the death of his mother – a woman who played a significant role in supporting and encouraging the Nirvana drummer and Foo Fighters frontman’s career in music.
To me, the track that stands out the most when I listen to the album is ‘The Glass’, which opens with the lines “I had a vision of you and just like that I was left to live without it… I found a version of love and just like that I was left to live without it… Waiting for this storm to pass, waiting on this side of the glass, but I see my reflection in you, see your reflection in me, how could it be?”
In these words, I find something of the truth that I try to encapsulate when I am given the deep privilege and awesome responsibility of leading funerals.
The first part of that truth is that grief is a perfectly natural and appropriate response to death. In this day and age that seems always wants smiles and laughter in celebration of a life lived well, those of us committed to speaking truth must be clear that the death of a loved one or loved ones hurts, deeply, and to diminish that hurt is to deny the way in which we are left to live without the vision and love of the one who has died. As I lead funerals I hold onto my memories of funerals I experienced in South Africa where wailing and sobbing were an expected, normal part of the occasion. To misquote the oft-used, and mis-understood, lines: death is most certainly not nothing at all.
Yet, at the same time, as a Christian minister I am called to acknowledge another truth – that death is not the end nor the final word. There are, of course, numerous ways to explore this. For me, the way I have usually offered to congregations is to consider that all love is but a part of the great love of God, who is indeed Love itself, and that since there is nothing in all creation, not even death, that can separate us from God’s love in Christ then so there is nothing that can separate us, not even death, from the love of the one we see no longer, nor separate them from ours.
To grieve is to demonstrate that we love. And our love is a reflection of God’s love, which has overcome even death. So, while we see dimly through the glass, nonetheless we can rejoice in the ongoing, undefeated love we have experienced and which is reflected both in our grief and in the ways we continue to live as reflections of the love we have known, still know, and will know into eternity.
1993. A significant year in my life. The year that I got married.
1993. The year I saw U2’s Zooropa Tour at Roundhay Park, Leeds.
1993. The year that Blur began to appear on my music radar properly.
Eventually, they would go on to nudge U2 from my ‘favourite band’ top spot.
I followed Blur right through the 1990’s into the new millenium, and as their music began to evolve to the point of them beginning to go their separate ways, my love for their music began to wane. I may have dabbled in lead singer Damon Albarn’s ‘Gorillaz’ work and sampled bass player Alex James’s cheeses over the years; I didn’t abandon them completely.
So imagine my delight to hear this single which was released about a month ago. It feels like a return to the Blur of the mid-90’s, reminiscent of ‘End of a Century’ and ‘The Universal’, it’s filled with pathos as it comments on certain aspects of life. This is the Blur that I fell in love with all those years ago. It’s like an early 30th Wedding Anniversary present!
Their music, for me, has often captured the mood of the time, so choosing narcissism seems rather apt given the exposure that we’ve had to narcissists recently. Just in case you need a definition – Narcissist: (noun) ‘a person who has an excessive interest in or admiration of themselves’. I’ll leave you to reflect on who they may be.
This song takes us on a journey from self-obsession to self-reflection and transformation. The opening verse perfectly captures that feeling of looking in the mirror and seeing the different personas, or faces, that we wear. The public ‘me’ and the private ‘me’.
Yet when you start to embrace your real self in order to transcend and be liberated, you need to acknowledge the darker parts of you – the parts that you don’t like or are frightened of. Not only is Pierrot a sad and tearful clown, but there are people who have coulrophobia, a fear of clowns. An apt metaphor.
Looked in the mirror So many people standing there I walked towards them Into the floodlights I heard no echo (no echo) There was distortion everywhere (everywhere) I found my ego (my ego) I felt rebuttal standing there Found my transcendence (transcendence) It played in mono painted blue (painted blue) You were the Pierrot (the Pierrot) I was the dark room (the dark room)
Possibly the hardest part of self-development is that others don’t develop with you – or won’t acknowledge the changes they see in you. People new to faith will often talk of how their friends and family struggle with the change, and quite often try to put you ‘back into the box’ that they had you in.
People who are recovering addicts (like The Narcissist in the song) say that one of the greatest challenges is managing relationships with friends who shared in their addiction – drinking buddies for example. There will be some who want you to return to the drinker/substance misuser/smoker you were, and their behaviour can also mirror back to you the person that you used to be.
I’m going to shine a light in your eyes (in your eyes) You’ll probably shine it back on me
A recovering addict knows that they need to break this cycle, have determination and recognise that a higher power can guide them through this journey.
But I won’t fall this time With Godspeed, I’ll heed the signs
Throughout the song, you sense the yearning for connection, love and transformation. The solstice, taking acid and travelling hint at something spiritual and escapist but instead of fulfilment, darkness appears and addiction takes over.
I saw the solstice (the solstice) The service station on the road (on the road) I took the acid (the acid) Under the white horses (the road) My heart, it quickened (it quickened) I could not tear myself away (myself away) Became addiction (addiction) If you see darkness, look away (look away)
And then there’s hope. The hope that nature and love of this glorious world in which we live can connect us and lead us to peace. Even if we aren’t a narcissist, the lyrics can still prompt us to reflect on ourselves, where we’ve been and where we might be at the moment. And that we should continue to seek real connection with ourselves, others and the Divine – and through this, we can be transformed.
Oh, glorious world (glorious) Oh, potent waves, valleys gone wild (potent waves) Connect us to love (us to love) And keep us peaceful for a while (for a while)
Every summer from the age of 10 to 21, I packed my bag for at least one week’s camping with a bunch of young people of my age. The Christian camps gave me a good basis for a lot of the things that make me who I am today and every year I got reintroduced to Jesus.
Every year the scene was set to learn what it is to be a Christian in the world, and at some point in the week, there would be an opportunity to respond to the Gospel and recommit myself to Jesus. In the years when I did multiple weeks in the summer, I had multiple opportunities to repent, and came back doubly sure of my salvation, at least for another year.
The youth worker in me reflects on those days with a whole range of emotions. I’m appreciative of the passion and concern that those faithful servants had to the gospel and the attention they paid to the salvation that I needed to know about and own. Yet I’m also aware that emotions play a huge part in the moment as well, and wonder how we create the same space without the fear of lost salvation lingering with those who have already responded.
How do we introduce Jesus without the hype, salvation without the guilt and shame, and response without repetition, wonder and worship without worry? The reality is that my faith was never the same outside of those “mountaintop” moments, when life rushed back in quicker than I was able to wash the week’s dirt off my dusty feet, in spite of my best intention in that moment.
Not only is this song one that sounds like summer to me, but it reminds me of those moments. It reminds me of that feeling of coming back closer to Jesus and our relationship having that much-needed “kickstart” after being a bit lax and neglected in the interim. It speaks of rediscovery, recommitment, and a desired intentionality.
I sometimes miss those days, and sometimes I forget to miss those days. I am not sure I am always that good at creating the opportunity for the love to kickstart again in my relationship with God, at recognising where I’ve got complacent. I’m saved. I don’t need another altar call. What I need is to spend time on the relationship I have.
There was a great buzz of excitement in the Comms Team WhatsApp group a couple of weeks ago when Ben Lawrence’s single ‘O Wide World’ dropped into the chat, followed a week later by the release of the video.
I’m guessing that this week’s Friday Fix may hold a few firsts:
1. I know the musician (how often has that been said on the Friday Fix?)
and
2. Ben is a member of the Methodist Church’s Connexional Team (not employed as our connexional musician, although I think such a job would be super cool!); he is, in fact, our video content producer.
It’s common when a new member of staff arrives to have a meetup; you know, to say hello and have a chat. So last year, when Ben started working with us, we met on Zoom and chatted away about his work, Methodism, what brought him to work with us, etc. Throughout our chat, I had been admiring a couple of amps I could see sitting behind him, and just as our conversation was drawing to a close, I casually said to him, “So… you’re a musician?” “Yeah” he replied as if it was no big deal, and then announced he was about to launch his new album.
The conversation continued with Ben telling me that the album was written in response to losing his twin brother Dan to cancer, aged 25, in 2016. I came away from our time together deeply moved that somebody that I had just met would talk so openly about grief and death, and with such honesty and vulnerability.
‘O Wide World’ is the debut single to the album. It’s a story of grief but also one of hope in the adventure of life. I’m always interested when I hear people talk about any subject that as humans, we are not naturally good at talking about. It seems that Ben is not the only one responding creatively to death, as both the recent album releases from P!nk, Ed Sheeran and the Foo Fighters are rooted in their experiences of loved ones dying. It almost feels as if the creatives of the world are somehow expressing the collective grief of the world from the COVID pandemic. It’s given permission for folk to be more upfront, open and honest about a subject most would rather avoid.
I’ve never lost a sibling, so I cannot comprehend what that feels like, but I know something of wanting to somehow make sense of loss. My dad died when I was in my late 20’s and on his birthday, I would always treat myself to something that reminded me of him and his creativity: something photographic or artistic. So, the sense of wanting to do something creative with pain and loss certainly resonates with me.
Ben describes ‘O Wide World’ as much as it’s my story of losing my brother to cancer, it’s also about hope, adventure and learning to thrive in this fluid state of grief we all exist in. It’s about living life to its fullest, even in the middle of the pain, the breakdowns and the disappointments. It’s about ‘flipping that frown upside down’ and packing your bag for the story that lies ahead, even if it scares you.
So maybe the invitation today, as you listen to this song, is to reflect on the words of Jesus in John 10:10 ‘I have come so that you may have life and have it abundantly.’ Perhaps today you might just find time to pause and notice what or who is around you.
O wide world, what do you ask of me?
I’m not ready, but still you’re calling me
Give thanks.
Be grateful.
We have one life.
What will you do today to live that life in abundance, in hope, and with a sense of adventure?
“You’re always trying to see yourself through the eyes of someone else”
There’s a degree of pressure on us when we do that.
To “hold a mirror up to” is a phrase meaning “to take a look at oneself objectively to examine or reflect on things (issues) stemming from the reality of reflection; to reveal to someone about the way they look (differently) to the rest of the world (so that they can reflect upon themselves); expose, show up, bring to light (some (unpleasant) aspects to oneself)”.
Community done badly holds up images of the ideal alongside the mirror and tells us all the ways we don’t measure up.
I think there is merit in the mirror when it comes from a community with the right heart.
Community done well is about having a mirror held up to us that we can respond to. That mirror isn’t designed to focus on and highlight all our flaws, but rather to reveal the inner beauty and brilliance that is masked by who we try to be, that’s often waiting to be released. The image they want to see revealed isn’t about creating another person to look like the “ideal” but to bring out the latent potential in the individual to enhance the community.
It’s about allowing the individual to belong and shine without conforming to herd mentality or having to look identical to the rest of the flock.
It only works when there is real objectivity. It’s a skill that needs nurturing in communities and in ourselves, to be able to see all thrive. We often get it wrong, I often get it wrong, but I know there’s intention with the right communities I’m part of.
It’s with sadness and often admiration that I see people who are still battling to live up to unreal societal and cultural expectations, forcing themselves to be someone else. The sadness comes from the fact that it is wrong and the compulsion to conform to set ideologies shouldn’t be there, but I admire the resilience and the longing to chase that which is so often fickle and fading before it’s achievable… But how long can that really last? Life is passing them by while they try to be someone they’re not, struggling without asking for help to find freedom. How are you still holding on!?
May we all find a community that helps us be shaped more into who we are than the ideal they think we should be, but may we also find communities that see the innate beauty and brilliance in us and allow them to help us change to accept that!
Are there any summer memories that as soon as you hear a certain song, it takes you right back there?
What would be on your summer playlist?
How about sharing a song and reflection with us on the Friday Fix – we love a summer vibe. Just get in touch with Gill on thomasg@methodistchurch.org.uk with your thoughts…
Here’s a song that would definitely figure in the soundtrack of my life – for two reasons at least.
Firstly, the release of this song in 1991 coincided with my early 20’s which was a time when I first started to really question and have doubts about God and all that good stuff. This stage is absolutely an integral part of faith development – we grow by asking, exploring, and challenging ideas and beliefs.
It was a time of trying to get to grips with life and with issues that life threw at me – sex, drugs and rock n’ roll I suppose – and these were things that the church either avoided discussing at all costs or had only one view on the issue that couldn’t be questioned or explored.
Secondly, and quite simply – I find that the music is just so catchy – and at points matches perfectly with lyrics that I can’t help but sing along to them.
Many people think that the song is about religious doubt and guilt but according to Michael Stipe, R.E.M.’s frontman, it’s more about unrequited love – of not being noticed by the one you are devoted to. Apparently, in parts of the southern USA, ‘losing my religion’ means that you’ve got to the end of your tether which puts a very different slant on the song!
As I said earlier – the song gave voice to my frustrations of being both a young adult and a young Christian. That optimistic twenty-something probably wouldn’t expect the lyrics to still resonate 32 years later but as I go about my daily work as a worker and lay minister of more than one denomination, I guess you could say that I feel like I’m losing my religion about some of the attitudes we have towards younger people – in both church and society. We seem to see them as separate rather than part of – and that troubles me.
A few years ago, I took part in a workshop led by Dr. Steve Argue (from Fuller Theological Seminary and a leading expert on faith and emerging adults). Steve told us that he’s regularly asked by churches if he could help them to reach older teenagers and young adults. His reply is always along the lines of ‘if you are prepared for the doubt and questioning that they will bring to your comfortable church community, then yes.’
And this is what I see across the country in both our communities and churches. Younger people are in the corner, in the spotlight, losing their religion. Younger people challenge us – with their ideas, with their energy, with their need to respond and do things differently from the generations that preceded them. They ask why we’re doing things that way and make suggestions about how we could do things differently. And for some reason, we can have a tendency to go on the defensive and guard that which we see as precious and not up for negotiation.
The question is – how can we respond to the challenge well so that we can all benefit?
Perhaps one thing is in realising the bigger picture. In 1 Corinthians 12:26 we’re reminded that ‘if one part suffers, every part suffers with it.’ Rejecting, ignoring, excluding those who are younger or different to us, and focusing only on our needs is a pretty selfish act, and it helps to realise that life, and God, are much bigger than us.
Oh life is bigger It’s bigger than you And you are not me
Perhaps another thing is to stop sending mixed messages. We say that we want younger people to know God and to fill our churches, but I think we only want them on our terms (not God’s). They need to fit our expectations and follow our traditions and patterns. They’re expected to conform to our ways – when let’s face it, part of their job as a younger person is to challenge the system – it’s what they do! So how can we make room for this instead? It’s no surprise they walk away…
Trying to keep up with you And I don’t know if I can do it Oh no I’ve said too much I haven’t said enough
Perhaps, instead, we could turn around and notice younger people. Perhaps we can requite some love. Perhaps we can start to build good relationships across all the generations in our churches – building bridges rather than walls. Let’s seek to understand each other rather than to blame each other.
We all know that relationships are a two-way process that require time and effort; that might lead to heartbreak; that need empathy and understanding; that demand us to be sacrificial; that allows space for us to be cared for as well as being the carer; that ask us to close the gap rather than keep some distance.
In making the effort, perhaps we might find some joy and hope. Perhaps we might grow and learn a new song. We can, at least, try.
I thought that I heard you laughing I thought that I heard you sing I think I thought I saw you try
The Friday Fix 