Just to brighten up your January days, we’ve created the Friday Fix 2020 Playlist on Spotify.
It’s nearly all the songs that we covered last year – a couple of them are so ‘leftfield’, Spotify doesn’t know them (or the artist doesn’t want Spotify to know them).
So here’s the link – it’s a really eclectic mix!
Warning: this post contains strong emotions.
Jill writes:
In 2007-8, when we had a difficult time as a family I would sometimes find my husband sitting listening to this song, with tears running down his own face… just listening and crying.
His cousin (aged 28) was killed in the 7/7 bombings. She was sitting in the carriage where the bomb went off and there was no chance of survival. There was nothing anybody could do.
Her parents asked for none of us to talk about her and I’m not going to here except to say that she was an extraordinary person (you could read more in her memory https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-12011102) and that she is still missed.
This piece of music, for me, is one which has helped, since then, to deal with any difficult situations. Until I decided to write this I didn’t even know what the lyrics were. ‘I will try to fix you’ was the only phrase I remembered. There was absolutely nothing that could be done. The fire had literally ignited her bones. And yet… we wanted to fix it. We really wanted to fix it. This song tuned in with that longing and that helplessness.
We all want to fix it… for those we love, for the world. This Covid-19 pandemic has reminded us of our vulnerabilities as a human race. We do feel ‘stuck in reverse’. We also want to fix other people… and really we can’t.
In films those who are called ‘fixers’ are those who are known to be people who claim to do this and always come undone. They are not the ones with real power but the ones who try to convince others that they are! For me it is turning out to be a life-time’s work to learn that only God can help people truly fix things in their own lives.
‘Fix You’ will always remind me of those traumatic experiences (of hearing The News, of realizing it was our family’s news, of the funeral, of trying to support others through bereavement) but since then, the song has become one which helps me with other sadnesses. Until I started to write this I didn’t know that the song was performed at the benefit concert ‘One Love Manchester’ – dedicated to the victims of the Manchester Arena bombing in 2017… but it does not surprise me. The music itself is healing as it brings the tears which register the realities of sadness and make the beginnings of real change possible. We can then begin to look for the ‘lights which will guide us home’
At Helen’s funeral the vicar, who was a friend, mentioned that Helen had supported him after a difficult funeral he had to take for a child, “She said to me: ‘In tragedy, it is never God’s will. God’s is the first heart to break and God is the first to shed a tear.’”
Find out more about Coldplay at https://www.coldplay.com/
Jim writes:
The Holy Spirit (and its work) is infused throughout Creation; it does not just exist in the bubble of the Christian Church. At its most dramatic and obvious it is released and shown in the work of artists – musicians, painters, movie directors, writers, poets and all creative people.
So we come to the song ‘Solsbury Hill’ by Peter Gabriel. A little background. The rock band Genesis formed in 1967. They gradually became very successful and were poised for massive success in 1975. It was at this point that Peter Gabriel, lead singer, decided to leave the band. In his first record he expressed the intellectual and spiritual feelings he had in the lead up to, and moment of, leaving the band and taking a huge risk with his career.
He himself says that it all came to him in an epiphany whilst standing on Solsbury Hill. Little Solsbury Hill is a small flat-topped hill; the site of an Iron Age hill fort located above the village of Batheaston in Somerset, England. The hill rises to 191m and is a place of outstanding natural beauty.
Peter Gabriel is not a Christian; a man of indeterminant beliefs. But everything about his ‘epiphany’ shouts of the Holy Spirit at work. The language in the song walks hand in hand with much of a Christian’s awakening. In the closing stages of the recording Peter gives himself over to shrieks and noises which pour out; he moves beyond words to express the intensity of his joy and depth of feeling. Much like St Paul in 1 Corinthians: 14 (read it here) the song achieves a balance to words and speaking in tongues.
Like the song, the Bible has itself also uses the metaphor of the eagle for God at work giving strength:
Isaiah 40:31: “but they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint”.
So, taking the song from the start and leading through its revelation, call to action and decisions made.
“Climbing up on Solsbury Hill I could see the city light
Wind was blowing, time stood still
Eagle flew out of the night
He was something to observe
Came in close, I heard a voice
Standing, stretching every nerve
I had to listen had no choice
I did not believe the information
I just had to trust imagination
My heart going boom, boom, boom
Son, he said, grab your things I’ve come to take you home.”
Peter experiences what many Christians also feel; a voice, that of God, the doubt of what one is hearing, the physical response of the body (the heart). The message; “You are being offered a new way, a new life, a new home that you were always meant to have.” The feeling of an experience out of time and this reality while one is still standing in this reality.
“To keep in silence I resigned
My friends would think I was a nut
Turning water into wine
Open doors would soon be shut
So I went from day to day
Though my life was in a rut
Till I thought of what I’d say
And which connection I should cut
I was feeling part of the scenery
I walked right out of the machinery
My heart going boom, boom, boom
Son, he said, grab your things I’ve come to take you home.”
Like many of us, there is not an immediate acceptance; the invitation is just too overwhelming and counter-intuitive. Like many a Christian, Peter keeps the revelation to himself. He knows that to tell others would be to provoke a pushback and incomprehension. Many, many Christians find telling their family and community about a new-found faith and revelation extremely hard. Not the least because most people will view them very differently from that point and even consider them ‘a nut’. Anyone who accepts the Spirit is “turning water into wine”. There is a leap of faith into a Creation where miracles happen, where intuitive responses to the Holy Spirit stretch every nerve, spark imagination and demand we act in opposition to what the secular world says it correct and in our best interests. So much has to be given up to actually let the Spirit guide us. But the Holy Spirit keeps repeating the invitation: “grab your things I’ve come to take you home.”
“When illusion spin her net
I’m never where I want to be
And liberty she pirouette
When I think that I am free
Watched by empty silhouettes
Close their eyes but still can see
No one taught them etiquette
So I will show another me
Today I don’t need a replacement
I’ll tell them what the smile on my face meant
My heart going boom, boom, boom
Hey, I said, you can keep my things they’ve come to take me home.”
Christians recognise that Jesus has an often different way to this world. There is an illusion in this life of who has power. The dance of true freedom is beyond the rules, mores and etiquette of the dust of the Earth. At the end of the song Peter finds the courage from his spiritual experience to say who he really is and act that way. It is a tremendous physical, spiritual and intellectual release, “My heart going boom, boom, boom.”
But you also notice, the last line has changed: “Hey, I said, you can keep my things they’ve come to take me home.”
Peter at the end does not even grab his things to be taken home. He gives them away and heads off to his new life. And then, as I said earlier, the whole experience overwhelms him and he is wracked in an explosion of joyous noises and shouts. But it is speaking in tongues we understand because of what has been said earlier.
To my mind the music and arrangement of this song linked with its words are a wonderful exposition of the Holy Spirit at work in our contemporary world. The song is a great way of showing non-Christians and Christians the epiphany like engagement, challenges and changes that the Holy Spirit works in our lives. The Nature of the Holy Spirit is to light us up, to give us the tool by which we access all the gifts God has created in us.
You can find out more about Peter Gabriel at https://petergabriel.com/
Michael writes:
WARNING: NU METAL ALERT!
Ok, so I confess… I’m a kid of the late 90’s and early 00’s that meant I was brought up on a healthy diet of skater rock and nu metal. And now it is my joy to share these passions with you! One song I particularly want to share is this absolute classic from Linkin Park, which was probably one of the most listened to tracks of my youth… for many angsty teenage reasons!
I used to think this song captured well the struggles I had with my relationship with God and my parents who were heavily involved in church leadership. I was acutely aware as a teen of who I thought I was meant to be, and how any failures to fulfil that model of sonship (both natural and spiritual) would reflect badly both on God and my parents. I couldn’t take that pressure but often internalized it or handled it poorly (classic 15 year old!). This song was an outlet for my angry objections and inner distress:
Tired of being what you want me to be
Feeling so faithless, lost under the surface
Don’t know what you’re expecting of me
Put under the pressure of walking in your shoes
I had a deep sense in myself that ‘every step that I [took] was another mistake.’ That I couldn’t do things right, couldn’t live up to the ideal I felt I had to. Alongside this, I was wrestling with my own charismatic upbringing and trying to understand why I didn’t always ‘feel God’ – something that had made me feel more guilt and resentment:
I’ve become so numb I can’t feel you there
Become so tired so much more aware
I’m becoming this, all I want to do
Is be more like me and be less like you
This song doesn’t have a happy ending. There is no shift in mood, no resolution, no hope. It just is what it is; a pained outpouring of emotion.
I still love this song as an adult – partly for the nostalgia, but also because I now hear it from a different place. I used to think my angry wrestling with God was part of my problem. I was being faithless, a failure, a let down. I’ve learned over time though that wrestling with God is very much at the heart of the identity of God’s people.
Israel the man literally had that fight. Israel the nation metaphorically had it for centuries. Abraham is the epitome of the untrusting follower and is the Father of covenantal community. Elijah is the epitome of the angsty God-follower and the greatest of the prophets. Peter is the epitome of the confused, over-zealous screw-up and the rock upon which the church has been built.
I like this song because it still expresses how I feel at times, but I no longer believe I am inadequate for these feelings. In fact I feel I’m very much faithfully continuing in my tradition. Much like the Psalms of anger, lament and confusion, as I express these very real emotions I am worshipping.
And, unlike the way this songs ends, I no longer believe that that leaves God disappointed. Rather, I believe it moves their hearts and invokes their compassion. So oddly, this rather angsty song from my youth invokes some rather treasured thoughts… gotta love a bit of redemption right?!
Find out more about Linkin Park at http://www.linkinpark.com
Gill writes:
There’s a ripple of excitement as I write this Friday Fix – excitement about ‘The Great Conjunction’ or ‘The Star of Bethlehem’ that has appeared in our skies as Jupiter and Saturn align to create a bright, shining star. This ‘star’ should be with us throughout the 12 Days of Christmas fading away on the 6th or 7th of January. Perfect timing for not only the classic rendering of ‘Nativity’ stories but for Epiphany celebrations coming up.
There are so many lyrics in this song from Ash that have Christ-like and biblical connotations – not least the Epiphany.
A constellation once seen
Over royal David’s city
An epiphany you burn so pretty
Yeah, you are a shining light
Having just travelled through the season of Advent where we’ve watched, waited and held on to the Light, the birth of Jesus and the Visit of the Magi catapults light and life into our dark winter days. We still have the journey to continue but we’re reminded that God is with us – that Jesus is God Incarnate – and that we can garner strength and hope from this knowledge.
You are a force, you are a constant source
Yeah, you are a shining light
Incandescent in the darkest night
Yeah, you are a shining light
And while we might be focusing on the story of the birth and childhood of Jesus at the moment, we know that he grows up and by adolescence is asking questions and provoking thoughts and feelings in the adults around him.
By the time he is a young Rabbi, people are listening and wondering who this person is. His questions and teaching galvanise his followers and agitate those in authority – and they still do today.
You have always been a thorn in their side
But to me you’re a shining light
I still find it amazing that over 2000 years later, we are still stirred and excited by the shining light that Jesus is – and that by following the example that he set, we can share that light and bring change to our world and the lives of others.
“In the beginning the Word already existed; the Word was with God, and the Word was God. From the very beginning the Word was with God. Through him God made all things; not one thing in all creation was made without him. The Word was the source of life, and this life brought light to people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has never put it out.” (John 1: 1-5 GNT)
I feel reassured and ready for 2021 knowing that I have this shining light to guide me. I hope you do too. Happy New Year!
Find out more about Ash…
Here at the Friday Fix we love all kinds of music. Occasionally we come across songs that are written with a genuine intent to be inclusive but the language of the time seems a little bit different to how we would say things today.
It helps to understand the context of when the song was written. This song was written on 1951, 6 years after World War Two had ended and when the Korean War was taking place. Add to that the segregation that the United States had – and you can see why this song mattered then – and still does today.
Anne writes:
This song brings back such fond thoughts of Christmas at school.
Every year we would decorate the big tree in the hall on the first week in December. We waited until the children had gone home from school so that when they came in the next morning the school had been transformed in to the magical wonderland. Looking at their little faces when they walked into the hall was always special.
At assembly time, we would gather the children around the tree and turn off the lights so that the space felt smaller and intimate and the only light came from the fairy lights on the tree. Our headteacher would sit in his comfy chair and read them a Christmas story. The staff all called him ‘Val Doonican’ because all he needed was the colourful jumper and the look was complete.
As the children filed in, we would play a track from James Taylor’s Christmas album and so now when I hear one of those songs it takes me right back. Christmas at school is a mad rush of parties and concerts. Excitement and fun. But as a teacher, it is frenzied and frantic – and leaves you feeling drained by the time we break up.
This song brings me back to the true meaning of the season.
Oh lay aside each earthly thing
And with thy heart as offering
Come worship now the infant King
‘Tis love that’s born tonight
This year I have a challenging class due to the current circumstances we find ourselves in. I have children who are terrified for their friends and family in case someone gets this dreaded virus. They are fragile and anxious and the only way they know how to cope with their feelings is to lash out and fall out with each other.
I see it as my job to keep things on an even keel and make their life in school as normal as I can. Their Christmas will not be the one that they are used to. No concert, fayre or visit to church so it will be difficult but we still need to give them that sense that it is special and a time for awe and wonder. I will play this song to them as they come in first thing in the morning and hope that the gentle tune will reach the parts that ‘I wish it could be Christmas everyday’ doesn’t reach.
The children in each different place
Will see the baby Jesus’ face
Like theirs, but bright, with heavenly grace
And filled with holy light.
I think after the world events this year, the words are more applicable than ever before. The children of every country will see images of the baby King that they can relate to but it doesn’t matter what colour they are, the important thing is that they realise that this baby, who was a child like them, changed the world. They can do that too. The family were refugees and homeless like too many children in our world today but theirs is one of the most well known stories in history.
I will tell that story again and pray that my children will get the chance to spend time with their family around their trees and experience the joy that comes from feeling loved and safe. I look forward to seeing the faces of my grandchildren as they grow to understand what Christmas is about. I will play them these songs and make sure that the baby isn’t forgotten amidst all the decorations and wrapping paper.
Find out what James Taylor is up to these days at https://www.jamestaylor.com/
David writes:
It may seem strange to write in Advent about a song set during Lent and Easter! But this song is about incarnation – God with us. It is a song that challenges us to smash our own stained-glass images of the infant Jesus. The sanitized Christmas card nativity scenes and the niceties of Victorian Carols portraying a baby who doesn’t cry or a child who is never difficult!
In so many ways we have deradicalized the incarnation. We have lost the miraculous depth of truth within the statement that God is with us, rather emphasising God as the benevolent stranger who walks alongside us until our life gets too much and then, just before we fail, picks us up!
We have retreated behind our stained (or not-so-stained) glass church windows for a dose of ‘God with us’, enabling us to return to the world and ‘brave it out’ until our next church visit.
In both these scenarios we have lost the fundamental meaning of incarnation. God is not on the periphery of our world, appearing as and when we need God, but rather God participates constantly in earthly life. God is not the immutable figure in the background but an active participant in our human experience. As a result, God walks alongside us understanding exactly how we feel, not waiting to pick us up at the last moment but, suffering and rejoicing with us in all things.
God takes on the frustrations of life and relationships and knows just what it takes to deal with these vibrant emotions.
‘And then God rode through on sunshine and sat down ‘cos he was tired. He was tired.’
Incarnation is God in human form, not scratching the surface of living but One who is exhausted through the process of living.
This is the God who is born in the stable, forced to flee as a refugee and whose life ends in betrayal, arrest, torture, and crucifixion. ‘Stained Glass’ is a song that challenges us not to see the resurrection as the archetypal Hollywood happy ending but to understand it through incarnation and suffering.
One day all things will be made whole but until that day God, who is born in the shit of the stable, is with us – whatever life throws at us. The refugee Deity travels, the betrayed Almighty struggles, the arrested Creator is bound, with us. The beaten and tortured Life Force experiences our pain and as the Divine dies on the cross we know that whatever our experience – God is with us.
Understanding the incarnation in this way smashes our dualistic theology of good versus bad and light versus dark, as forcefully as ‘the Elm tree hit the church‘. The previous window had been ordered and ‘cast a godly light’, the new window is different…
‘It was covered in black velvet like a hood or like a veil
He pulled the sheet and there it hung apocryphal and frail‘
‘The chapel fell to silence, it was more than just surprise
As the monstrosity of color slid its tongue across their eyes
And they shivered from exposure like babies born again
Cause in every pane of glass was all the joy and pain of man’
God is not only found in our sacred or thin places, within the joys and highs of life. God is also found in, what we lazily term, the ‘dark’ places of life, ‘every fearful smile, every awkward friend, every lie that ever saved the truth from being shamed, every secret you could ever trust a friend to hide away, every shape inside your head you can’t carve with your hands…’
The term stained-glass has become synonymous with windows in church depicting the sacred and the saints – the perfect not ‘emblazoned imperfections in a perfect stream of light’!
In Danny Schmidt’s song, the new window is stained with all the shades and chaos of life. A vivid challenge to us to meet our incarnate God in the whole of life: ‘And there was bloodstains in the red and there were teardrops in the blue’. God comes to us not solely in our churches or other places we deem to be holy, but in the shades and chaos of our everyday life.
‘As the thunder and the hardwood settled back into its place
God removed his veil and there were scars across his face
And some folks prayed in reverence and some folks prayed in fear
As all the shades and chaos in the glass became a mirror’
Under the cover of the night the veil of God is removed in the birth of Christ.
In the darkness of the tomb divine scars are revealed.
As much as we veil the shady side of our life, we find God in those self-same shadows. When we mask in lies the scars, that shame and delight us, God is not fooled. Instead of judgement and rejection God simply reveals in a mirror the life of God lived in Jesus.
Visit http://www.dannyschmidt.com to find out more about Danny’s music.
Jane writes:
My friend sent me a track by Thea Gilmore. She’s an artist I knew of but had never really got to grips with. Kind of not knowing where to start for the best, I was pleased to receive the offer. I’m happy to say that the track in question was an excellent starting place. It wasn’t this one but it did mean I embarked on that thing where you search through the back catalogue. I liked some of it but not all and saved the stuff that appealed to my Spotify playlist called “newish.” That’s kind of a thing I do a lot.
It wasn’t until the other day while walking that this track popped up again and really made me think. Thea’s lilting voice was doing that thing of soothing my ears while prodding at my soul.
So here is a song where everything in life seems just out of sync and slightly out of kilter. Where things are okay but they are definitely not. Where the balance has shifted and it ought to be alright but there is a hidden secret that it’s all horribly wrong – or at least not as it seems. Where its downright tough. Uncomfortable, fraught with difficulty and just a bit in that place where
“your heart is whole but your soul is shot”
“your load is light but your feet are stone”
“the road is clear but the bridge is closed”
Yet this is how the love gets in
At this time of year as people of faith we think of a story where “set back” and “peculiarity of circumstance” were par for the course. Betrothal to a woman who is with child. Being called to account in a Census because the Occupying Forces required you to. Travelling long distances when pregnant. No room to shelter. Visitations from strangers – shepherds and Magi alike. Tyrannical leadership bringing risk to your new-born. Fleeing from persecution as a refugee family. All of this against a background where God had made it clear that Mary was in favour and would bear a precious Son that would be great and called Son of the Most High – the Son of God. Even with this known outcome, the path was not easy and at every turn there seemed to be an issue to face or something to overcome.
Within the story then, there are places where the love gets in. Where God moves in mysterious ways. Outside the story, two millennia later, it causes us to reflect on just how easy it was to see the love of God creep in to all sorts of lives through these complex circumstances.
At the moment for me, the whole of life is in that complex place. Work that seemed simple is complicated. Relationships that flourish usually are all just a bit odd. Plans you had can’t be realised. What ought to be dead obviously isn’t. It’s all a bit flat. There’s a lot of wondering and pondering to be done and just when you think you have the hang of something, you don’t. Yet even now it is in this place of strange inconsistency that the love gets in.
It’s more than “in spite of” though, it’s “because of”. Because it’s all just a bit weird, there’s space for it. Space to notice. Space for honesty. Space to learn about the other. Space to care. Space for vulnerability. Space to pay attention. Space for the love to get through.
“So raise a glass to how it shatters. ‘Cos it’s the cracks that really matter”
This is how the love gets in
Love for one another. Love for humanity. Divine Love that looks for the cracks and seeps right in. God with us still.
You can find out more about Thea Gilmore here at https://www.theagilmore.net/
PS – I often wonder when people write things whether they realise the effect they are having on people. I suppose they must want their music to make some kind of impact but to what extent they own that impact is interesting. Where music and lyrics take you can sometimes surprise you. Now it’s your turn…
Michael writes:
I don’t know about you, but I’m a thinker. I’m also a big self-reflector. I’m not sure whether that’s pious or egotistical of me (perhaps that’s another thing to naval gaze about at some stage!?) but I suspect, in actual fact, it’s really a little bit of both…
The last few months have left me with a worryingly large amount of time to think about who I am and how I am. I’m not going to lie; I’ve not been OK for large swathes of it. I’ve also spent a lot of time thinking about the parts of myself I often try to deny or minimize or hide from others – that shadow-self that I am desperate for other people not to see, and yet I am all too aware of.
Staring at ourselves in the mirror can be a vulnerable, painful and distressing activity. In the midst of this intense looking-glass season, I have found this beautiful song a really helpful meditation. It announces so much of what I have reflected about myself lately; that I am often two things at once – both light and shadow, both present and absent, both selfless and selfish, both OK and broken:
I am rich and I am poor
I am healthy and I’m sore
I am certain and unsure
I am one foot out the door
I am dirty and I’m clean
I’m awakened and I dream
I am kind and also mean …
I am strong and I am weak
I am hopeful and I’m bleak
I am fierce and I am meek …
I am false and I am true
I’m a wise man and a fool
I will give you all you need
But reserve the best for me
The tone of these opening verses is undeniably bitter and disdainful. So often that is how I feel when I consider my own broken nature. Sometimes the self-loathing is palpable. Perhaps you can relate?
But what I’ve found helpful and inspiring is that this song is not about despair, it’s about love. The kind of love that accepts both the light and the shadow of an individual, who they strive to be and who they are, the times where they are OK and the times they are not. It embraces the whole person, and in so doing allows that person to embrace their whole selves too:
I thought I would find a noose, but instead you cut me loose
Now that you have set me free, I reclaim my identity…
As I’ve listened to this song many times recently I’ve found myself being slightly stitched back together and comforted. It’s OK that I am “Sometimes not what I think I seem” and “A dichotomy so to speak”. It’s OK that I am both pious and egotistical. Despite resenting and wishing to certain parts of myself for fear or rejection, I am already loved. And, I’m left wondering… maybe, if I can learn to more openly acknowledge, and even share these parts of myself, my sense of being loved will grow.
Blessed are those who are honest about their whole selves, for they shall know love (Matt 5:8 – my rendering).
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