I don’t know how…

I don’t know how it’s come to this,
Standing on the this precipice,
above the nihilistic abyss.

Memories decayed to dust at dusk
we rust in the darkest hours until husks we become

So I’m stuck

Drifting in pools of tears from years of yearning
icebergs cracked by silent lightning
drifting apart like the same blood never flows twice
am I a clot so far from your heart?
congealed in surreal absence unhealed in abstinence
leading only one fate should I reach your core:

In the darkness,
the daunting uncertain maze,
I thought sleep was my only friend,
but then I met a shadow man
ever constant
behind me
beside me
before me
a peer of perseverance in adversity
a hand to hold
a love to know
a new vocabulary for an illiterate heart
in darkness we illuminated one another
with kisses of koinonia kindling
a to-and-fro throw of cutting and healing
pushing and feeling
hushed and kneeling before Him

and where is he now?

Falling from this precipice,
above the nihilistic abyss,
my hand held out for him to miss,
I don’t know how it’s come to this…


a daughter’s musing

Refusing the musing is fatal

Body and soul synergy

Articulating ‘trilogy’

A cycle of love energy

Exploding fragments of existence

In harmonious reunion forming

Molecular me

Unlocking regeneration of generations

A new inheritance

Replacement penitence

Obtain the name

And beat the same rhythm as He does

Soaking in amniotic pool of divinity

Tessellating trinity

Neurological fertility

Refusing the musing is fatal

A night to remember at The Street Project…

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On Friday night I had the joy (and sorrow) of participating for the last time in The Street Project in Swansea.

After walking around the streets to invite people in and having some incredible conversations over tea and cake, I witnessed an unforgettable send off that I know will have a lasting effect on my heart.  Service users Pete and Mary who I’ve been getting to know over these three months lead in prayer for myself and another trainee, commissioning us out into the work we are soon to be doing overseas.  These two people whose lives we have been pouring into are giving back to us in passion and prayer as they support our vision to build the kingdom and to share the Father’s love with those who don’t yet know it!

I have been truly blessed to have the privilege of volunteering with such an impacting project.  It is so difficult for me to leave after 3 months of hearing miraculous stories and deeply coming to love those with whom I share my Friday evenings.  It has been nothing short of a life-changing experience and the people that I have met have pushed me to see the glory of God in brand new ways.

My faith increases with each chapter of redemption that is revealed to me.

Lives changed at Street Church in the city of Swansea…

street project

Last Friday I was asked to share my testimony at Street Church. On the first Friday of each month, Elim Swansea City Church open up the café with the lights down low, the chairs laid out, the amp plugged in and the worship leaders tucked into the corner ready to bring praise. You can read more about The Street Project here: On the Streets of Swansea.

Lights rolled across the windows of the car as I gazed beyond them contemplating what I should share with those gathering at the place I was fast approaching. The day had brought it’s own dramas and was swallowed up by the tasks demanded of me, so this was my space, my time to prepare myself emotionally for 10 minutes of vulnerability behind the mic.

After copious amounts of caffeine and pleading with God to speak through my quivering lips, I stood to face over 50 homeless people staring at me from intoxicated eyes, as they bellowed inaudible roarings across the room after the excitement of enjoying the lively worship. I excused myself for the daintiness of my voice in my usual apologetic fashion when faced with intimidating men, and launched into my story with my fist clenched to remind me to claim this story for my own; I mustn’t let it go. I hadn’t planned exactly what to say, I trusted that the spirit would move through me in the moment extracting any segment that might bless the ears it fell upon, and in my faithfulness the words seemed to fall from my lips in divine fluidity.

As I was speaking, I seemed to be unaware of the sounds of my own voice and the content of my own soliloquy, for all I could focus upon were the faces of those in the crowd before me. Tears began to trickle down the rugged faces of broken men, as they wept for my tragedy and gazed attentively into the wound that I opened before them. I continued in my attempts to articulate the development of my life from a godless one into one that is blessed with love and providence, healing and promise. Eyes pierced with pain now began to shine with hope as smiles gradually appeared throughout the crowd, and some began to cheer for me as I proclaimed God’s glory in the things He has done to save me from the darkness of my life. A few men even yelled ‘AMEN!’, and as I confessed my orphan mentality and my continuous need to seek my loving heavenly father, the room erupted with applause and people began to praise God.

5 individuals gave their life to Jesus that night.

7 people came to the front for prayer.

I still don’t recall exactly what I said that night. I don’t really believe I said anything. Another man shared his testimony, and a guy called Alan shared a short talk from scripture; both are ex alcoholics and were powerfully anointed as they spoke.

“When the Counselor comes, the One I will send to you from the Father — the Spirit of truth who proceeds from the Father — He will testify about Me”.

– John 15:26

The Lord was with us on that night and is continuing to work powerfully through The Street Project.

Playing a part in the healing of individuals through the beauty of grace fills me with awe and wonder anew.

My God is huge.

Spread like wildflowers…

Poppy field

This photograph was taken by my dear ‘big brother’ Tim Hogg – it would seem that his artistic abilities have been well concealed from even myself!

Poppies have grown evermore symbolic to me over the years and are a fancy I hold rather dear. Such an infatuation has been nourished of late by a man of the name Neville, a stranger with whom I was briefly acquainted through an accidental happening of a friend. What was surely a move of God far beyond coincidence presented itself in the form of the words of my own heart falling from the lips of another.

In recent months I have heard too many a tale of powerful ideas dying malnourished an unnecessary death. Myself, my spiritual family, my close friends and even distant acquaintances have experienced rejection and even abuse from those in organised institutions, condemned for believing in a better future and for ‘rebelling against rebellion’. These visionary followers of Christ have obediently chased callings of the Holy Spirit to bring about new and exciting ways of sharing the love of the Father in a broken city. Pioneering in Nottingham, young people are recognising the need for restoration of the wastelands where love is little but four letters crumbled to dust, hopelessly trampled under the feet of the lonely.

My inarticulate thoughts flowing eloquently through Neville’s words explained that like any other institution in the world, those who lead church congregations require the pre-constructed blueprints before leaving the office. So many are keen to plant perfect lawns, in perfect lines, with perfect colours, each square foot the same length, the same shade of green.

Perfection: that one attribute that is impossible to acquire, the very defining feature of what compels us to put our faith in Jesus, the one and only sinless man, perfection itself.

Yet perfection is what so many require for any thought to be made into action, for any calling to be put to work. Perfection translating to: ‘authority’.

There are three possible reactions one in authority might have to those who are inspired and think differently to themselves:

  1. “You are naive.”
  2. “You are rebellious.”
  3. “You might be on to something here… how may I try to understand you better?”

Sadly there are very few that would even consider the possibility of a third option, and so many visionaries are left ignored, condemned, and humiliated for thinking outside of the box.

But in the midst of this spiritual oppression may we be encouraged.

May we find joy in the knowledge that the very gardener of Eden spreads his love like wildflower. The ways of God are seldom perfectly formed lawns under the control of man. Like the seeds of a poppy he scatters far and wide and he is unstoppable. For those that plot to pluck out the ‘weeds’ in order to lay down their own regal turf, I pray that their eyes be opened, that in compassion for their brothers and in love for their God, they would seek the beauty of the poppy that grows from even the roughest of circumstances.

If the Lord gives you a seed, scatter it. It may not be fruitful, but the possibilities are far too wonderful to risk inaction. Throw aside your obsession for a perfectly formed lawn, for the Lord rejects those that claim perfection. By his grace, his acceptance is lavished upon the imperfect, and with the wildest of weeds he can do immeasurably more by his power that is far beyond the hand of man. For he is faithful. And the field will be made beautiful by his precious and perfect blood…