We choose God
Nos Eligimus Deum
We choose you as an act of will.
Though emotions surge and crash
and grey grim fears run wild.
Though our reason screams out “rubbish”
and all strength has slipped away
Though dark thoughts block out the sun
and deep despair devours all hope.
Though belief’s an empty dream,
Past joy a broken shard.
Yet we still choose to struggle on
For you said you would complete in us
The good work you have begun.
Therefore we choose to trust in you.
Not with faith we summon up
Or fantasize in fear.
Not by recalling lost memory
Past blessing, easier days.
Not the painted happiness
That masks deep pain with practiced smile.
Not quelling doubts with doctrine
Or cursing soul’s dark night.
But because you cannot alter
Your self’s deep faithfulness to us
Though we fail, stumble, falter.
Therefore we choose to worship you
Though throats are dry and swollen,
Eyes misted with our tears.
Though words are mere muttered fragments
To be heard by none but you.
Though a voice says “It’s futile!
No point in endless struggling on”
Though days, weeks, months are dreary
And sorrow fills each dark
Yet faithfulness beyond our sight
And grace that holds us on till morning
Will bring us to joy in light.
January 2025
Years ago I told the story of my coming to faith in French. (certainly couldn't do it now! ) I quoted a popular Christian song - "Ma vie est remli des roses" - "My life is full of roses" - but said that roses have thorns. Sometimes we have to deliberately hold on, relying on the faithfulness of an unchanging God and not on our own faith
Choosing music after cataract surgery
What music for a summer Saturday
evening? A glass (or three) of gascon wine,
Garden now greener, brighter, more defined
Clarity.
Symphony? Too complex. Concerto? Too
adversarial. Romantic? But dark
shades, half tones suggesting loss, not gain.
Ambiguity
Solo voice? Yearning, seeking. I don’t need
high emotion, Just a sense of storm past
unusual in simple melodies of folk
hilarity.
Something structured. Joyous, predictable
Harmonic proof that music, optics, peace
Pattern deep order. Allegro. Baroque.
Vivaldi.
24/6/23
Written the day after my first cataract operation. It came to me as I was selecting a CD to play with our meal : something that echoed the new sharpness of vision emerging in the operated eye that was at the same time structured and calming.
Rooted
“that you, being rooted and grounded in faith… Ephesians c3 v 17
Rooted in dark embrace of earth
Safe from cold winter’s overlay
The first faint stirring of reviving life
Pale buds push upwards to new birth.
Grounded in richness of good soil
Provided with the needs for growth
Rain of grace seeps down to nourish hope
That no return of frost can spoil
Season moves on to early spring
Shoots break through into a wider world
Green tentative but stretching to the sky
Where clouds scud by and skylarks sing
Stems grow and swell to latent bloom
Aware that what they will become
Is more than this, their true and destined self
Dancing joyful after winter’s gloom.
One day of warmth beneath blue sky
The sleepers wake to gold and glory
And know surpassing love that unlike earth’s
Daffodils will not fade and die
The Embroidery
“Courage is not simply one of the virtues but the form of every virtue at the testing point”
C. S. Lewis
Rainbow vibrant, scattering bright sunlight
Colours of cardinal virtues captured
Deft needles made design reality
Embroidered beauty of true humanity.
Green generosity, pure love’s deep red
White humility, self-control’s bright gold
Cerise gratitude, diligence is blue
Quiet brown patience awaiting all things new.
Unseen beneath gorgeous flare of colour
Grey canvas holds the many threads in place
No thought given by the admiring crowd
This fabric does not speak its name aloud.
But without it no virtue will stand test
Staunch courage gives its form to all the rest.
May 2024
Shepherd on Friday
The fields are quieter now
The yearling lambs gone for sacrifice
So now I rest beneath the olive tree
As the spring sky drifts above
But why this mid day dark?
The call of songbirds sudden stilled
I am afraid for the huddled sheep
As the black sky covers all
It lasts for three long hours
Like no eclipse I have heard of
And when the light at long last returns
It seems something is now gone
And now I mind another darkened sky
Cold in the fields, huddling round the fire
The safe sheep stir softly in the fold
Waiting for the new sun’s light
And how at once the silence broke
The flash of light, the angel’s voice
The amazing message from the Lord
Of goodwill to favoured men.
I recall the way we all rushed down
To the sleeping little town below
The flickering flame of oil lamps
And the baby lying there.
And in that babe it seemed
All hope, all peace was won
I often wonder to myself
What on earth became of him.
.
