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 retpli de roses" - "My life is full of rose" - 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
Rooted
“that you, being rooted and grounded in … Ephesians c3 v7
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
Sorting screws
Cold bright April afternoon.
Garden reasonably controlled
for now. Project Tidy Shed
one year on needs completion.
So now I am sorting screws.
Odd ones multiplied like weeds
put aside when taking
things apart. Not wasted but
kept in case of future use.
Mixed in a box waiting for
some convenient moment
like this. Too cold to work
outdoors. But sheltered here
I convince myself that this
Is useful, necessary.
No difficult decisions.
First there is separation
by length. What to do with old
imperial sizes which
don’t quite match their metric cousins?
Then subdivision by gauge.
Which notch on the drill guide edge
do they comfortably fit
ready for recycled jar or tin?
Should I mix slot, cross headed?
Is ex -sweetie jar big enough ?
For long ones? How to stick
on labels permanently ?
It seems even simple tasks
do not liberate from life,
the necessity to choose.
It’s what being human is.
2022
This piece came out after the final stage of a massive shed re-organisation. You just can’t avoid making decisions in ordinary life – and the odd screws keep re-appearing!