The Friday Fix

  • ‘Station to Station’ – David Bowie

    Alison writes:

    Last night I watched TV and Bowie’s 2000 session from Glastonbury was playing. I love Bowie; there is something about some of his songs, and something about his voice, and something about him that are all captivating.

    One of the songs he played was ‘Station to Station’ which has these lines

    “Got to keep searching and searching

    Got to keep searching and searching

    And oh, what will I be believing

    And who will connect me with love?

    Wonder who, wonder who, wonder when“

    I am currently forced to search within at the moment. Lockdown is still a reality for me, as I am told not to expect to go back to face to face work for months still, and I have hurt my leg and can’t walk far.  As an extrovert, who often finds truth in experiences, this is very tough. There are things inside I don’t want to see and at the moment I don’t have the excuses normally available to me, namely travelling lots and always with people.

    Bowie asks ‘what will I be believing’? I like that this is a future tense question, not a present tense one, as it indicates that future beliefs may not be the same as present ones. I currently believe in a God who is the same yesterday, today and forever, which I currently understand to be about rootedness and connection. A God who is found in radical acts of justice and mercy.

    Who will connect me with love?

    The answer is meant to be Jesus, but that is too simple an answer. There isn’t one answer, other than to that almost all things can connect me with love, if I want them to.

    If I want to be connected.

    One thing currently connecting me with love is the rage and determination of the young people who are kneeling for 8 minutes 43 seconds, at 2 metre distance from one another, forming a ring around the City of Lancaster on the last 2 Wednesdays.

    Another thing connecting me and some of my family with love at the moment are the young trans people who love Harry Potter and are desolate, as the author appears to be joining dots that don’t join – namely women’s rights and trans rights being in opposition to one another. 

    These people all connect me to love. I think they would connect Bowie to love too. And I see Jesus in all of this, as he simply said ‘love your neighbour as yourself’. 

    Bowie asks, I wonder when and who will connect me with love? 

    Those unexpected moments are treasures. This morning Radio 3 played a piece from Swan Lake and I danced around the kitchen like no-one was looking (no-one was looking). I danced and danced and then started to cry; I sobbed deeply. I let myself feel some of the pain of the world from these last few months. The lonely deaths; the heart breaking funerals with few people there; the loss of rites of passage; the deaths of black and brown people here and around the world; a group of refugees who crossed the Channel this week in a paddling pool.  

    In the end, I lay on the kitchen floor and felt the music, and imagined myself in the orchestra pit feeling the music beat through my body and I floated in the sound. That unexpected who and when was a treasure. 

    Let us pray…

    “Got to keep searching and searching And oh, what will I be believing
    And who will connect me with love?
    Wonder who, wonder who, wonder when”

    If you’d like to watch the full set that David Bowie did at Glastonbury in 2000, you can see it here: https://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/m000kjlh/glastonbury-david-bowie

  • ‘I Want Jesus to Walk With Me’ – Eric Bibb

    Our Friday Fix this week comes from Clive and it’s quite pertinent since today is his last day as Vice-President of the Methodist Conference. Even more so as this song was used by him in last year’s Conference.

    So we’re happy to ‘let in’ a religiously overt song this week and wish Clive well as he embarks on the next stage in his journey as Principal at The Queen’s Foundation (http://www.queens.ac.uk/).

    Clive writes:

    It’s sometimes hard, as a privileged White, Western, male Christian to own the spirituals. Robert Beckford has rightly challenged UK choirs to think carefully about what they are doing when they sing spirituals – as if there are no complications about singing religious songs which emerged from the Black slave experience. Admittedly, any part of Christian tradition can be lived and made one’s own. But sensitivity is needed. 

    I knew ‘Kumbaya’ and ‘Let us Break Bread Together On Our Knees’ from early in my Christian life. When you hear the range of recordings available of such spirituals, though, the lush versions from highly-trained choirs sound just a bit too polished. There is a mis-match between the life-experiences being mentioned or alluded to and the neatness of the music. There are thousands of spirituals. They exist as a large body of material which Christians anywhere can access and make use of. Even if few make it into formal hymnals or song-books, that’s perhaps not where they best belong anyway. They are more like learned prayers which can be summoned up in the mind when needed, or sung when possible. 

    I only discovered ‘I Want Jesus to Walk With Me’ in my 30s or 40s. I can’t quite recall exactly how it happened, but a live version of it appeared on an Eric Bibb CD I bought (Roadworks, 2003). So it became part of the ever-growing, and always-being-edited, musical ‘canon’ of material within which I live and on which I draw as part of my spirituality. It came alive for me, though, as a spiritual when, about ten years ago, someone I know got into real difficulties.

    I found myself listening to it often, singing along when I could, though that wasn’t always easy as I was weeping regularly, not knowing how best to help someone I was close to, who was in dire need. Phrases such as ‘when I’m in trouble’, ‘when my heart is almost breaking’, ‘in my trials’ and ‘when my head is bowed in sorrow’ all took on a new intensity. At the same time, the value and meaning of ‘I want Jesus to walk with me’ was being stretched, sometimes, it seemed, to breaking point. It’s what I wanted, but what difference was it making? And what of the friend who had no intention of seeking Jesus’ help and remained in need? 

    Because I’m an academic, a researcher, an enquirer, a questioner, my faith is never unexplored. It’s a constant state of wrestling (what’s true? what’s really happening here? is God real anyway?). But the questions are posed within an overarching umbrella of trust. Even if there can never be certainty about exactly what is happening and how, as a listener you can be carried by the music. In and through Jesus, and in and through the music, God accompanies us in our troubles and sorrows.  

    Find out more about Eric Bibb at https://www.ericbibb.com/

  • ‘An Act of Kindness’ – Bastille

    Marc writes:

    This wasn’t on my radar at all until I was looking for a piece of music to go behind an Easter chalk drawing… A petition to the Hive-Mind of Facebook brought this song to my attention. (It was the perfect piece, as long as I removed the bridge about feeling guilty…)

    Have you ever noticed that the Cross is everywhere?
    In the intentional through religious art.
    In the fashionable of jewellery and clothing.
    In the integral as a crucial part of the structure of architecture.

    And what if we used all those reminders to point back to Jesus’ act on the cross?

    And what if we thought of it as an “Act of Kindness”?

    “​Kindness: The quality of being generous…”

    A reminder of the generosity of God…
    A reminder of our calling to be generous with what we have received from God…

    Lyrics:
    ​An act of kindness
    Is what you show to me
    Not more than I can take
    Not more than I can take
    Kindness is what you show to me
    It holds me ’till I ache
    Overflow and start to break

    Oh I, got a feeling this will shake me down
    Oh I, kind of hoping this will turn me round

    And now it follows me every day
    And now it follows me every day, every day, every day
    And now it follows me every day
    And now it follows me every day, every day, every day

    An act of kindness
    Is what you show to me
    It caught me by surprise in this town of glass and eyes
    Kindness, so many people pass me by
    But you warm me to my core and you left me wanting more

    Oh I, got a feeling this will shake me down
    Oh I, kind of hoping it will turn me round
    Oh I, got a feeling that however slow
    Oh I, kind of hoping this will reach my soul

    And now it follows me every day
    And now it follows me every day, every day, every day
    And now it follows me every day
    And now it follows me every day, every day, every day

    Here’s the video I edited together:

    You can find out what Bastille are doing at https://www.bastillebastille.com/

  • ‘Make Your Own Kind of Music’ by Paloma Faith


    Fidge writes:

    I was born into a singing family. I know that sounds a little bit like I grew up with the Von Trapps or the Nolans, but singing is something my family did. My dad was a Scout Leader and we grew up singing all those campfire songs. My gran had special songs that she used to sing to us when we visited her, and every year we begged her to sing them! My sister has a recording of her singing and when I hear it, I am immediately taken back to my childhood days with all those memories.

    I have always loved singing. I’m not so good at it that I can read music but being in a choir and singing with others is something that makes my heart soar. It was only recently that I acknowledged that singing is one of the ways in which I pray.

    I loved Paloma Faith’s (you got to) ‘Make your own Kind of Music’ from the moment I first heard it. Not only is the music that kind of happy song that makes you feel good about the day, but the lyrics seemed to sum up my sense of life. It’s a song that my own choir Northern Proud Voices, loves to sing out!

    As a teacher, educator, youth worker, development worker, I have always tried to enable and encourage each to find their own unique path – as the song says, to

    Sing your own special song. Make your own kind of music. Even if nobody else sings along

    Paloma herself describes it as “being a fearlessness for being who you are.” I know from my own lived experience that sometimes this can be costly.

    It may be rough going. Just to do your thing is the hardest thing to do.

    Paloma talks honestly and with a sense of vulnerability about these words and you may like to listen to this here – https://youtu.be/EbgaO0Xmt-Q Its short, about 3 minutes but I love the way she talks about her clothes and dress style and even knowing that people will, and do, criticise her, she does it to bring a sense of fun into her life. Sometimes I think we are short of fun in life, especially as adults.

    I was ordained about this time last year and I really wanted this song to be played at the dismissal. It didn’t happen as my lovely organist friend had planned something else and I didn’t want to upset him. But this song kind of sums up my calling, my ministry, my life – to go out into the world, to love and transform it, but in my own unique, quirky kind of way.

    I think we are all called to sing our own special song – so what is your special song? What is your calling? What is God calling you to do and to be? Are there people, places, situations that you need to speak out for especially when nobody else seems to be doing it?

    Paloma justifies her style by saying “life is to live!” And if I’m not mistaken, I think Jesus said something very similar! I hope today, as you listen to this, that it brings you joy, makes you smile but also that it helps you to discern your own “special song.”

    Find out more about Paloma Faith at https://www.palomafaith.com/

  • ‘Speechless’ – Naomi Scott

    Marc writes:

    Kneeling is an option towards action. We should NEVER be kneeling on someone else, keeping them from freedom, suffocating them, taking away their life, be that physically or metaphorically… So that option, whilst it is there, is the wrong choice.

    We can all easily kneel in prayer. We can all ask God to show his love through us and through others, and if we don’t have the words we can just let our hearts cry to him. That is a valid step towards action, and is sometimes all we can do.

    The third option is to protest in a way that doesn’t hurt others, but makes a serious point.

    Colin Kaepernick (in the middle) first knelt a few years ago during the USA National Anthem in front of millions of people because of the way black people were being treated (again, it’s not a new thing).

    His protest was bigger than he could have hoped, but he also made other people angry. It cost him his job (people didn’t want an unpatriotic football player, regardless of how good he was). He got death threats. But he didn’t stop.

    This week he said he would be paying the legal fees of any protesters in his city who were charged for their peaceful actions. He wants to see change, and is finding an honourable and righteous way to do it. The bottom line is that for too long too many groups of people have been expected to just accept that they are of lesser value than other:

    White skin is the best; men are better than women; straight is the only sexuality; you’re looked down on if you are too young or too old; your level of education, or your job, or where you live, or the amount of money you have, or the clothes you wear are all signs of your worth and your status.

    And for too long we’ve told people to be quiet. It is right that we not only give people a chance to speak, and listen to them, but that we also add our voices to help them make a difference.

    The song comes from the Disney film ‘Aladdin’ – you can find out more about the film here https://disney.co.uk/movies/aladdin-2019 – which starred British actor, Naomi Scott, playing Princess Jasmine and sings ‘Speechless’.

  • ‘The Story of the Blues: Part One’ by The Mighty Wah!

    Gill writes:

    Merseyside has played a big part in my life. My ‘junior school’ years were spent in West Lancashire where I cultivated a Scouse accent (admittedly a posh one!) and even when we moved to the wilds of Preston, Liverpool was still a regular haunt. When I left home, it was to Liverpool that I headed and it continues to be a place where a bit of my heart lies.

    One Sunday afternoon in the mid-90’s, sprawled across the floor in our brand new apartment in Upper Parliament Street, I was captivated by an article in The Observer about Pete Wylie – who is The Mighty Wah! (or Wah! or a whole variety of names that I don’t have time to go into…). It was all about his life and his music. And this is a man who really has had a fascinating life of music-making and influencing other musicians.

    However, one moment of his life stood out like no other because in November 1991, Wylie was leaning against a railing outside his flat (I think) when it gave way and he fell 20ft to the basement. He fractured his spine and his sternum in the near-fatal accident and spent months rehabilitating. This part of his story captured my attention most of all because the accident had occurred on the very street where I was living – Upper Parliament Street.

    I don’t know why it is but, for me, stories seem to take on another level of meaning when you’ve seen where it’s taken place. Most people who have visited the Holy Land will tell you that the stories in the Bible take on a new dimension because you’ve stood where the stories happened. Even visits to film & TV locations add a fresh dimension of engaging with what you have seen.

    Reading that article that afternoon took me straight to another location – my teenage bedroom and the feelings of being a 14 year-old young woman who was excited, angry and scared about the world. If I was asked to give a personal Top 10 for the 80’s – this song would be right up there. For me, it just sums up the early 80’s.

    Being a teenager at the time, it felt like we were being pummelled with frustration, conflicts and knock-backs – riots, the Falklands, unemployment, unrest in Northern Ireland, the Cold War – but somehow we kept on getting back up and dusting ourselves down. Just like Pete Wylie did following his accident. And to me there’s something reminiscent of what Jesus says about taking the message to people “And if anyone will not receive you or listen to your words, shake off the dust from your feet when you leave that house or town.” (Matthew 10:14)

    First they take your pride,
    Then turn it all inside,
    And then you realise you got nothing left to los    e

    And this song is just so perfect to sing at the top of your voice – showing the world that you just don’t care and you’re not going to let anything stop you.

    So, you try to stop
    Try to get back up
    And then, you realise
    You’re telling the Story of the Blues

    There are days in Lockdown Britain at the moment where our frustrations and sense of loss just bubbles right up. It feels like life has dealt us a bit of a body blow that we’re struggling to recover from. The sense of powerlessness at times has taken me right back to how I felt at 14.

    So I offer you this song. A song that always gives me the chance to vocalise my frustration, the strength to pick myself up and to try again – no matter what life throws at me. I hope it does the same for you.

    Pete Wylie is still going strong – you can find out what he’s up to by visiting http://www.petewylie.co.uk/

  • ‘Woodstock’ by Joni Mitchell

    For years on this Friday (the one that comes just before Bank Holiday), I have found myself on the way to a small, but perfectly formed, Folk Festival up in the Cumbrian hills.

    The closer you get, the more people you see going in the same direction with roofracks or stuffed back seats ready for camping and musical happiness.

    I guess we are all off with a similar intent. To listen to great artists. To dwell in the fabulous countryside. To risk the vagaries of weather – bright sunshine, torrential rain and once even a frozen tent!!!!!. To read. To feast. To be.

    Oh how I miss it. How I miss even the thought of it. Oh how I miss the festival season lying ahead -a summer started by my beloved “Ireby” but also the kind of summers littered with “Underneath the Stars” “Folk by the Oak” “Cropredy” “Greenbelt” “Beautiful Days” “Shrewsbury” and more.

    The folk on their way to Woodstock in 1969, I’m sure, weren’t really that aware of what might happen and how that festival would revolutionise the lives of so many. The lyrics of this song, even in its first verse, seem to sum up what was needed and wanted in uncertain times. Times of war. Times of wanting to get back to nature. Times of seeking commonality through music and living simply.

    I came upon a child of God

    He was walking along the road

    And I asked him, where are you going

    And this he told me

    I’m going on down to Yasgur’s farm

    I’m going to join in a rock ‘n’ roll band

    I’m going to camp out on the land

    I’m going to try an’ get my soul free

    We are stardust

    We are golden

    And we’ve got to get ourselves

    Back to the garden

    This lockdown has seemingly stolen from me much of what I love and find life-giving. If I had a “lament tent” believe me I’d be raging at God about that. Raging at the loss of community. Raging at the loss of freedom to pitch my tent. Raging at the clamping down on my freedom to go to the lakes or anywhere for that matter. Raging about not feeling the music in my ribcage and singing as loud as possible alongside another soul.

    However lockdown hasn’t really stolen music, a constant accompaniment on my daily compulsory exercise and my lunchtime garden sitting. Lockdown hasn’t stolen my landscape, with even watching the moonrise on the motorway bridge near my house becoming a thing. Lockdown hasn’t stolen like-minded people sharing what matters. Lockdown hasn’t stolen my loud singing – I’m still annoying my ever-suffering neighbour Jo.

    So maybe God is saying to this Child of God it’s not just the festival Jane that gives you life but all these tiny component parts and you must learn to notice those again. Exploit them. Look for me within them and when you get to go again to these special community spaces you might go with fresh eyes, just like those first folk journeying to Woodstock.

    God is in all things and whether we like it or not God is around in this lockdown somehow so get your noticing head on and try to get your soul free.

    Cover versions of this track abound too including this one by Matthews Southern Comfort https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qIHfuihoz70

    You can find out more about Joni Mitchell here – https://jonimitchell.com/

    Matthews Southern Comfort here through Iain Matthews’ website http://iainmatthews.nl/?page_id=2

  • ‘I hope I always’ – Nigel Stonier

    This week’s Friday Fix is from Rev. David Hardman who, like us, shares a joy in hearing the spiritual in secular music. He blogs at www.socalledsecular.org.

    David writes:

    This is a love song. A song that has a homely charm. It is not an epic piece of poetry loftily declaring undying affection, but a down to earth attempt to show commitment while recognising the frailties, and the ability to mess up relationships, that are in us all. I like the honesty and adore the fact that it is not a cliched love song!

    However, the refrain jars: ‘I hope I always stay worthy of your love’.

    In many ways, the refrain is the natural conclusion of the verses. The lover sings of their hope to do things right. The refrain is simply the summation of all that is expressed in the verse! The writer is clearly saying – if I can do all I hope to do – then I will show the qualities that deserve your continued love!

    The refrain works in the song, but it does not even begin to describe divine love.

    When John baptises Jesus, we are told that a voice comes from heaven and says: ‘This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.’ What has Jesus done in his life before this point that would make God love him? Nothing, nothing of note, nothing that the gospel writers feel should be recorded!

    When these words are echoed at the Transfiguration, much later in Jesus’ ministry, you could argue Jesus has merited, was worthy, of this declaration of love. He had preached, performed miracles and shown people God’s love! Yet, before his baptism there is no narrative to explain why God might be well pleased.

    When we teach about baptism, when we talk of it as an outward sign of God’s grace that is freely given, we are describing God’s love. A candidate for baptism does not need to prove themselves worthy. In Baptism God says: ‘this is my beloved child’. Within the Baptism service we say to the one to be baptised: ‘In Baptism, the word of scripture is fulfilled: ‘We love, because God first loved us.’’

    God is well aware of the frailties we all have and our ability to mess up. God is not going to take away love just because we don’t keep a promise or fail in a task! Because God loves us first, we don’t need to hope we always stay worthy of God’s love! Yet, we are challenged to respond to what is divinely and freely given. We love because God first loved us.

    Too often we forget this; we fill our diaries with appointments, meetings and events, taking pride in being overworked, and therefore able to feel worthy of God’s love…

    I hope I always fill my diary

    I hope I always have more to do

    While there’s a space and I have time

    I hope my work is never through

    I hope I always keep on giving

    I hope I always keep awake

    I hope I keep on pushing myself and

    Never need another break

    I hope I always stay worthy of your love!

    For those of us guilty of filling every moment of every day in God’s service it is sobering to be locked down. And we struggle. Yes, we can still try and fill the hours and minute and refuse to take time off, but inevitably there is more time to listen and reflect on ourselves and our discipleship. God wants us to know, even though we can’t respond the way we used to, that we are loved.

    So, when these restrictions hit you hardest, listen… when you miss family and friends most acutely, listen… when you cannot bare another Sunday within the same four walls and not at church, listen… when your self-isolation passes so slowly, listen… when you are desperate for something to do, listen… when you feel all alone, lost and at your wit’s end, listen…

    …listen for God and hear God utter the gracious words ‘you are my beloved child, with whom I am well pleased’. There will be plenty of time to respond when lock down is over…

    More about Nigel Stonier can be found here   https://www.nigelstonier.com/

  • ’99 Luftballons’ – Nena

    Gill writes:

    Some tracks have so much more meaning than the words and music. And this German New Wave song is one of them for me.

    I spent Easter 1983 in Giessen, West Germany on a school exchange. It was (and still is) one of the best times of my life. I fell in love with travel; I fell in love with Germany and I fell in love with my new German friends. I was immersed in a Roman Catholic Easter where ‘Stations of the Cross’ was a torchlit walk through thick forest and castle ruins. (And by torchlight I mean burning torches of wood and flame that would give most Health & Safety Officers great anxiety.)

    This song, ’99 Luftballons’, was flying high in the charts all the time I was there and swiftly became the soundtrack to my time in Giessen. I bought the single before I returned and then drove my family up the wall by playing it incessantly until the end of the summer (and probably beyond) – and so in March 1984 when ’99 Red Balloons’ was released in the UK, I was beside myself with excitement.

    When I heard it however, my heart sank. What had happened to the feisty, New Wave anti-war protest song about living in fear but still with hopes & dreams? Why was I listening to a trite, sugar-coated pop song? The phrase ‘lost in translation’ never felt truer which is why I chose the video above – it translates the words more literally so that the song’s meaning comes across.

    So here’s what ’99 Luftballons’ means to me. It means spending time in a place that had reflected on and learned about democracy, power, guilt and shame. It means seeing people without the labels of national stereotypes. It means living as part of a family and community that welcomes and loves. It means being hugged by Oma (Annette’s grandma) who 40 years earlier might not have imagined that she’d ever hug a British teenager.

    The song was inspired when the group’s guitarist went to a Rolling Stones concert in Berlin and he watched balloons that had been released float into the sky. He wondered what would happen if they crossed the Wall into East Berlin – would they show up as enemy aircraft on East German radars? Could World War III blow up because of an overreaction to a few balloons being released?

    There are so many tangents that I could wander down about this song. About reconciliation; about the futility of war; about spending time in a country that was physically divided and the experience of standing and staring at ‘die Grenze’; about living in a time and place where fear of nuclear war was very much a real fear.

    But I’m going to hone in on two things. Firstly – we can learn and change from our experiences as an individual and as a collective (be that family, church, community, nation). The German town where I stayed was very different 40 years earlier in the midst of World War II and then again 7 years later when the ‘Wall’ had come down. The amazing thing about humans is that we can learn and grow a better world. And we can move on.

    I’m reminded of something that Rachel Held-Evans said (this Monday saw the first anniversary of her death) – “even the first apostles allowed themselves to be changed by goodness in the world.  When the law-abiding, kosher-eating, Roman-hating Peter encountered a Roman centurion who feared God and gave to the poor, Peter—to his own astonishment—says,  “I now realize how true it is that God does not show favoritism but accepts from every nation the one who fears him and does what is right.” 

    As we remember VE Day today in Britain, we’d do well to remember that we’ve had 75 years of relative peace in Europe because we have spent time and effort in dialogue, reconciliation and having a willingness to change and work together.

    The other thought probably speaks as much into the situation we find ourselves in currently. History teaches us that nothing lasts forever – global pandemics have come and gone; wars have come and gone; regimes have come and gone. As I sit here, 75 years after World War 2 ended in Europe, I’m aware that we’re caught up in another space of time that feels like it will never end but we know that it will at some stage. I didn’t expect to see Germany reunify in my lifetime but it did. I didn’t expect CD’s to become obsolete but they did. I didn’t expect to be living through a global pandemic but I am (and so are you!).

    What I can be sure of is that whatever the future holds, God will be at the centre – nudging us, encouraging us, inspiring us, caring for us. And that’s all I need to know. There will still be that one balloon left – full of hopes and dreams that sits in the ruins. I’ll think of that – and let it go.

    Nena is still making music – you can find her here at https://www.nena.de/en/bio