Michael writes:

I’m not a massive crier. But there are certain things that always hit me in the feels and cause me to well up. One of those is stories of redemptive kindness.

It might sound a little grandiose, but I genuinely think these kinds of stories are transcendent. Somehow the stories touch our deepest humanity and kindle in us a sense of hope and wonder. It’s almost as if they epitomize all that is good about what it means to be human, and in doing so, connect us to a long lost sense of self. You might say they hint at the kind of interactions we deep-down-sense we might actually have been designed to experience.

I know I’m not alone in thinking or feeling this way. There are whole streams of media dedicated to stories of redemptive kindness that celebrate simple accounts of human goodness and the impact it can have on others.

I can remember the first time I watched Extreme Makeover Home Edition, and wept as Ty and team beautifully customised a new house for a lady and her 3 adopted daughters, all of which had been born with HIV. The completed project not only supported their particular health needs, but was a haven of peace that celebrated and fostered each of their passions and personalities. I was so moved by how blessed both the family and those involved in the development of the home were.

I experienced all the same feels the first time I heard this song by Foy Vance. Foy’s music is always raw and honest. He writes about spirituality, emotion, love and loss. This song is amongst his best. It’s a stunning musical tale about the impact that unconditional love can have on others – particularly those who are really in need or aren’t used to receiving such kindness.

It describes a woman in need of shelter from a (literal and metaphorical) storm; carrying the scars of drug-addiction from an abusive relationship. She has no money to pay for such shelter and so, in desperation, offers her body instead to a concierge. Instead of taking advantage of the woman’s vulnerability, the concierge offers her his own bed and some dry clothes, sits with her and nurses her as she experiences ‘cold turkey’, listens to her, comforts and encourages her, and just generally behaves as a decent human being. The crescendo of the song includes the following phrase and is the bit that always sets my eyes watering.

I was always taught if you see someone defiled

You should look them in the eye and smile

Take their hand or better still take them home

I find it impossible to hear these lyrics and not think of Jesus. After all, he was the master of redemptive acts of kindness. Not just on the cross, but in almost every interaction he had with those in need or who were used to being snubbed by others.

But the thing is, I’m also reminded that we all have the potential for the same acts within us. We are all created in the image of the divine son. And I’m certain that’s why TV shows like Extreme Makeover and songs like Indiscriminate Act of Kindness resonate so deeply with us and move non-criers like me to tears. They remind us of who we really are and how we’re really meant to be. Lavishly, unconditionally, loving. Simply, and unconditionally kind. That is what Jesus himself came to teach and Foy summarizes what it means to walk the way of Jesus well:

If you can help someone,

Bare this in mind

And consider it an indiscriminate act of kindness.

Find out more about Foy Vance at https://www.foyvance.com/

Alison writes:

You might prefer the dance version by Candi Station or the more chilled one by Florence and the Machine, but the energy and the lyrics in both versions of You(’ve) Got The Love are, for me, an excellent hymn.

Coming up for 8 years ago, I married Ben. I’m a Christian, he isn’t. We looked at the options of a civil ceremony or Christian ceremony, and it wasn’t legal for me to bring my faith to the civil ceremony context, and he was able to bring his whole self to the Christian one, so we married in our local Methodist Church.

‘You’ve Got The Love’ was one of our congregational hymns led by friends (of faith and not) who made a band for the day. Ben could sing the words as an aspiration for our love and I could sing them about that too, but also to God; Not as an aspirational thing, but with an assuredness.

If you watch the video here then you will also see that this song could also be Christ’s words as he heads to the cross (albeit with a non-orthodox ending in this film where he doesn’t go to his death on the cross, maybe to his death into the sea or maybe to freedom), but it’s the words I am focusing on, not the issues raised in this video!

You’ve got the love I need to see me through

There is much I like about this song, most of which is that each verse start with statements about rubbish things in life

Sometimes I feel like throwing my hands up in the air

Sometimes it seems that the going is just too rough and things go wrong no matter what I do

But there is one line which I struggle with

When food is gone you are my daily meal

I don’t think literally this can ever be true of the love in our marriage, and also I struggle with it as part of Christian theology too

Give us this day our daily bread

Not everyone does have enough to eat. God doesn’t intervene and make it right, and therefore sometimes only rage can express the lived experience, and tagging on a ‘you are my daily meal’ doesn’t cut it.

In the Candi Station version, scattered in amongst the gloomy opening lines to verses is this one

Occasionally my thoughts are brave and friends are few

I can identify with this; occasionally I am brave too.

Occasionally I cry out Lord what must I do

And this for me feels like the wake up call about the angst I have about the previous verse. God does provide enough food, it is our systems make it unjust. So what must I do to make this right?

If I apply this back to the marriage and other human relationships, it is also a good question to ask then ‘ ‘what must I do’ to make this right? Or, a version of this I find more helpful in my life as I am discerning next steps is ‘what is mine to do?’

This helps to take the edge off the unhelpful protestant work ethic ethos within me, because the answer to this question implies that there are things that are NOT mine to do. And God has the love to see me through that too!

The Source are no longer making music together but you can find out what Candi Staton is up to here: https://www.candi-staton.com/

Lynne writes:

I’ve pinched the first couple of paragraphs from a Word in Time post I wrote last year – so apologies if it seems familiar…

When I was a teenager, and going through all the regular anxieties that the condition of being a teenager brings (worrying that I wasn’t ‘cool’ enough, dread of going to another day working in a Saturday job I loathed, exam stress, etc), I got into the habit of singing the old 1980s chorus “Be Bold, Be Strong” to myself.

Be bold, be strong

For the Lord your God is with you.

Be bold, be strong,

For the Lord your God is with you.

I am not afraid,

I am not dismayed,

Because I’m walking in faith and victory,

Come on and walk in faith and victory,

For the Lord your God is with you.

It’s a habit I carried with me into adulthood. I still catch myself singing it quietly when I’m about to do something that scares me. It serves to remind me that God’s got my back and that, even if I make a fool of myself or fail, God’s love for me won’t change. My perspective shifts a little when I sing this chorus and I remember that embarrassment is only temporary and God’s love and goodness is forever.

I share this with you to give you a glimpse into how my mind works, which will hopefully help me as I go on to explain why I’ve chosen to write about this song, best known from a Christmas movie and (if I’m being honest) a little bit on the twee side.

I spent Christmas Day last year on my own for the first time ever in my life. I know that 2020 was a difficult year for many people, and please believe me when I say I am not trying to win any sympathy competitions here! But, by the time Christmas Day rolled around, I was definitely exhausted and in low spirits. In the few weeks leading up to Christmas I had attended (virtually) the funeral of a friend; supported my partner through the disappointing results of a job interview; supported my sister as she navigated caring for her fiancé (who had broken his kneecap and found out his mum was very sick) whilst also completing her PhD thesis, struggled with a flair-up in my chronic pain and spent ten days at my family home helping to nurse my mum after emergency open-heart surgery. To top it all off, while at my parents’ house, I’d slipped in some mud and really badly injured my foot. In summary I was feeling pretty sorry for myself.

I did everything I could to keep my Christmas spirits up – I decorated my tree, made myself a turkey dinner and watched the different carol services on the television – but I kept finding myself feeling glum. Then, as part of my efforts to save Christmas, I started watching one of my all-time favourite festive movies, White Christmas.

I LOVE this movie. In particular I love Danny Kaye. I think that he and Vera Ellen dancing together and singing ‘The Best Things Happen While You’re Dancing’ beats, hands-down, anything that Kelly and Astaire ever did (I accept that some people may disagree). Usually it’s this bit of the movie – with Ellen’s ridiculously pink and foofy ball gown (I want that dress) swinging around the patio – that is the highlight for me. However, on this viewing, it was a scene that didn’t even feature Kaye and Ellen that caught my attention. Instead, it was the moment when Bing Crosby and Rosemary Clooney sing ‘Counting Your Blessings’ that made my ears prick up. Particularly (and this is when I start to come back, full circle, to how I use ‘Be Bold, Be Strong’, as I mentioned at the start of this post) the chorus:

When I’m worried and I can’t sleep

I count my blessings instead of sheep

And I fall asleep counting my blessings

Even as I say this I know how odd it sounds, but I really did feel God meet me in that moment. God met me in my tiredness, my worry about the wellbeing of my various loved ones, my grief for my friend, my loneliness, my pain. I didn’t feel condemned or guilty about the pity parties that I’d been throwing for myself, but I did feel my perspective shift. I wasn’t alone at Christmas because I had no one – I had lots of people who I cared for and who cared about me and I was only away from them because that’s what we had to do to keep each other safe in the pandemic. I started counting my blessings – the fact that the doctors had caught my mum’s symptoms in time to carry out the life-saving surgery, the friend who drove half-way up the M6 from the West Midlands to help me get home from Lancashire when my parents no longer needed my help, the luxury of having time off over Christmas to rest and sit in my pyjamas under a duvet watching Danny Kaye movies, the modern technology that not only allowed me to attend my friend’s funeral but also enabled the annual family Boxing Day Perudo championship to happen…

So now I have two ‘go-to’ choruses to sing to myself and help me shift my perspective. This kitsch little song reminds me of a time when I felt God meet me in my fed-upness and it helps me to practice gratitude – which we all know is a great way to boost positive mental health. As Psalm 118 (and another well-known sung chorus) tells us, “This is the day that the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it.”

Jane writes:

Last month saw the 50^th anniversary of the release of the album ‘Blue’ by Joni Mitchell.

It’s not a fact I’m keen to hear, as even though I was only 7 when it was released, it still makes me feel really old.  ‘Blue’ was an album I came to quite late I suppose, but once it was in my life it was really hard to imagine it to be otherwise.  I have a deep affection for it and often turn to it when things aren’t all they should be.  It’s like a comfort blanket or a reassuring arm around the shoulder. It’s a place to go to when you need to dig deep and cry your way through stuff. It’s familiar and safe, and every chord or note has something to say that’s distinctive and about life. It’s haunting and brave. It’s a place of solace. It’s bright. It’s occasionally Christmassy. It’s got nerve.

It’s an album that charts a mountain of real life incidents for the writer. Love affairs ending, struggling and new ones starting. Grappling with addiction. Pregnancy and adoption. Lament and loss. Joy and discovery. Temper overflowing. Straight speaking. All manner of life is here.

With the Friday Fix we rarely talk about an album’s worth of songs but its really hard to separate them from each other in this case as they represent the whole of something. A time of life. A lifetime in fact.

Into the midst of all this then comes the title track, ‘Blue’. Its opening line sums up for me everything about the love of music and how it cuts to the soul

Songs are like tattoos you know….

This song is one of those that I really have no idea what it’s about. A person masquerading as Blue. A feeling of depression. A realisation that you go over the same ground and still can’t get to escape the grasp of addiction maybe, or a need for freedom.  The complexity of love. A gift for someone that is troubled or precious or needing to hear something. An offering. It’s rare for me to say this but in a way it doesn’t matter because it’s under your skin. It becomes a part of you this kind of music, and you can’t shake it, or explain it. It’s essentially inked into you.

I’ve been a person of faith for a good while now, and I recognise in me an inability to put my finger on why exactly. I am not a conversion experience kind of person. I’m more a dawning realisation kind of girl, and when asked to explain why I people should believe in God the only response I could offer – and it may be a bit weak – is that my life was better with a sense of God in it than it was without. It matters.  Don’t mis-hear me. I’m not saying easy. I’m not saying simple or truly blessed. I’m not even saying under control. I’m just saying faith is part of me and I can’t shake it or explain it, but it’s essentially inked into me like this song.

Explanation is not always what you need, but assurance of something that sits deep in the soul. Music. Faith. Whatever it is you can go back and find solace in what you’ve grown to be sure of. To rely on what is deep within you. Under the surface. Indelibly written on you.

You can find out more about Joni Mitchell (and the album) here  https://jonimitchell.com/music/album.cfm?id=5

Michael writes:

I recently had the joyful experience of driving down to Basingstoke. To refer to such an occasion as ‘joyful’ might seem odd, even sarcastic. After all, there’s really nothing particularly special about the place (unless you count the excessive number of roundabouts). But I grew up there and for 24 years it was where I called home. So it remains one of my all-time-favourite places to be.

The last stretch of my journey always takes me a long a winding country stretch of the A33. Without fail in recent years, whenever I’ve found myself on this road, two things have happened: first, I’ve begun uncontrollably smiling. Second, Castle on the Hill by Ed Sheeran has come into my head.

When you think about the lyrics to that song, its not hard to see why:

I’m on my way,

Driving at 90* down those country lanes

Singing to Tiny Dancer

And I miss the way you make me feel – it’s real

When we watched the sunset over the castle on the hill.

*(No speed limits were actually broken in the making of this blog post)

For many, this song has become an anthem of adolescent nostalgia. It reminisces about Ed’s life growing up, and some of the times, events, places and people that shaped him into who he is today. In a particularly poignant final verse he reflects on where his childhood friends are now.

One friend left to sell clothes

One works down by the coast

One had two kids, but lives alone

One’s brother overdosed

One’s already on his second wife

One’s just barely getting by, but

These people raised me

And I can’t wait to go home

We only get a hint at the stories of each, and each hint contains a level of sadness. I find the words hugely relatable: we’ve all experienced the sadness of losing friends as they move away, or watching their lives not quite turn out in the way we’d imagined. Many of us have grieved with friends, or had to watch from afar as they’ve struggled. But even if its been years since we’ve even seen or heard from those who were once our childhood nearest and dearest, there are always certain songs, certain foods, smells or activities, and certain places that conjure deep memories and shine a light on the eternal, inescapable connection we still have, due to our role in each other’s formation.

This song engages with a deep theological truth. Descartes was wrong: its not our thinking that makes us us; rather, we relate therefore we are. We are designed as fundamentally communal creatures. We cannot help but relate. And we are who we are because of those we have related to.

Ed highlights that, we have the profound, unavoidable ability to nurture one another, to raise and shape and form one another, to develop and damage one another, to change and even twist one another. Whether we realise it or not, we are always raising those in our lives: sometimes for better, sometimes for worse.

I’m grateful that my story is similar to the one Ed describes here. At times, I look back on my childhood and cringe. It was filled with many mistakes, embarrassing and awkward situations and a decent dollop of physical and emotional pain. Yet, there are also many happy, standout moments. Most significantly of all, I was blessed to have some amazing people around me who despite their own adolescent ignorance, naivety and messiness, helped raised me through it all and significantly contributed to who I am today. I’m fortunate that some of those people even remain in Basingstoke, and continue to hold a significant place in my life.

That’s why this song and the A33 never fail to make me smile. Despite both the good and the bad memories that place holds and all that has happened to me and my friends in the years since I moved away, it’s very much still a home for me that I can never wait to go to.

Find out what Ed Sheeran is up to at the moment at https://www.edsheeran.com

David writes:

For me there is no place for a cover version that just seeks to mimic the original – it is a dull reflection.  Artists should bring their own creativity and personality to a song, to produce a version that gives us a fresh insight into the song. 

I love the acoustic guitar.  It is an orchestra in one instrument.  Don’t get me wrong the power of an overdriven riff emanating from a Stat for Les Paul is hard to beat! Yet, it is the sweet resonance of an acoustic chord being struck, or intricate, staccato, finger picking that never ceases to delight me!  All those notes bouncing around the wooden sound box of an acoustic guitar, notes and harmonies interacting with themselves in a myriad of ways, is a constant source of joy. 

Having confessed these things, the album ‘Where Does it Go’ by Denise Johnson was always going to demand my attention. Add into the mix of reimagined covers and original songs on acoustic guitar her beautiful, powerful and pure voice and I had an instant new favourite album! 

Paul writes in his letter to the Corinthians that – when he grew up he gave up childish things (I Cor. 13:11) yet, Jesus contends that – it is to those such as children that the kingdom belongs (Matt 19:14)!  Who is right Paul or Jesus?  

I can’t help but read 1 Cor. 13 and think that Paul is describing the controlled adult version of love. A love that is measured in its patience and kindness, in its modest, self-giving politeness!  A love that has much to commend it. Is it the love of the kingdom?  Are we called to a live a life of measured love by Jesus?  Is it how a child expresses love? 

A child is not patient and polite when they want something – they want it now. They can be arrogant and boastful and rude as they insist on what they want because they want it so much.  A baby screaming is an irritable sound that demands attention so they can get what they need. How many children do what we consider to be wrong, or lie, because they are so intent on what they crave?  

It’s a challenge to think that the kingdom of heaven belongs to people with such attitude… but isn’t that what Jesus implies! 

We see and understand childhood as the growth to maturity, learning to conform and take our part in the world.  The expectation is we conform to the expectations of society and take our place.  If we are honest don’t we lose so much? Often the excitement, expectation and naïve idealism is left behind with our childish self as we take on the dull duty of adulthood.  

Have you ever caught yourself in the shade of the morning sun being brought close to the childhood you have lost? 

Listening to this cover of True Faith I was not only struck by what we, as individuals lose growing up but also what the Church has lost as it has become established.  The church has left behind childish ways and  

too often become patient, patient of racism and racists in our church and in society,  

too often we have been kind to those who abuse power,  

too often we have failed to be envious of the way of the kingdom settling for the way of the world, 

too often we don’t boast about the Way of Jesus,  

too often we are not arrogant in our insistence of the Truth of Jesus, 

too often we are not rude in our condemnation of those who refuse to live the Life of Jesus,  

too often we are not irritated by violence in our world, 

too often we don’t resent our planet being destroyed,  

too often we won’t countenance wrongdoing even if it is for the greater good. 

Adult disciples hide in the kingdom and repeat the mantra ‘but what can we do?’ instead of revealing in the kingdom as children who will do anything for what they desire. 

‘I fear it has left us standing in a world that is so demanding and our valued destiny comes to nothing’ 

‘But what if we had the child like impatience to catch a glimpse of the morning sun – the morning sun of the resurrection… to feel so extraordinary, that somethings got a hold of us. Imagine the church feeling that’s it’s in motion, a sudden sense of liberty…’ 

Of course, the adult established church has and does do some good in its patient, kind, truthful way. The real question though is how much more could we do if we loved in an impatient, boastful and arrogant way? What if we didn’t bear and endure all kinds of wrong against individuals, sections of society or our world? What if we grasped that sudden sense of liberty… 

Denise Johnson died in July last year and the Album ‘Where Does it Go’ was released posthumously. 

Nigel writes:

For various reasons, life has been quite challenging of late. In fact, it’s been really, really, really stressful. In terms of scale of challenge, it’s been one of the three or four most stressful times in a life that includes divorce and cancer. It’s felt a bit like a hurricane has been raging for several weeks and only now has any sense of calm and stillness settled.

Luke Combs is one of Country Music’s biggest singer-songwriter stars. Amazingly, he’s just had his tenth consecutive Number One hit. One of my favourite songs of his talks about ‘hurricanes’ (I’m still amazed at the internet – the official video has had 245 million views!). His take on the subject is that when you meet someone, it can be like a hurricane impacting on you.

The chorus goes:

The moon went hiding
Stars quit shining
Rain was dropping
Thunder ‘n’ lightning
You wrecked my whole world when you came
And hit me like a hurricane
You hit me like a hurricane
Hit me like a hurricane

Mr Combs is singing in a ‘love’ context, but all sorts of things in life can hit us ‘like a hurricane’: love, loss, birth, death, injustice, racism, bullying, fraud, illness, losing a job, getting a dream job … the list is a long one.

My ‘hurricane’ experience has been around injustice and a sense of things being taken away from me. There’s been lots of big, dark clouds and it’s felt like the moon has gone and the stars have stopped shining.

I have been comforted and genuinely known that God is with me in the storm, but I’ve also been wrestling with wanting immediate solutions. I’ve been looking for a final flash of lightening and clap of thunder in the hope that God shows up big-time, does what only God can do and just calms the raging skies and tumultuous waters.

I’m not totally sure where I am in all this mix, but I have discovered something I hadn’t realised before. Whatever happens in life, I am convinced that God does love the world so much. God loves me and you so much. And here’s my big learning: whatever happens, God is way more invested in our futures … my future … your future … than either you are or I am. I’ve found that an amazing thought.

The moon will rise again; the stars will continue to shine; rain will refresh; thunder and lightening will give way to calm. Perhaps not always in our time, in our way, or at our demand – and whilst that’s the tough bit – I know that the hurricane will one day blow through.

If you want to know more about Luke Combs and his music, here is the link to his website https://www.lukecombs.com/