Listen -

no matter how impregnable
how tall the border wall
how faint their call
no matter how great the chasm
between you and them
between your point of view
between your world view
and where they have taken their pew

- Listen

don't write them off as blinkered
as closed minded, as none-so-blind
don't assume you're the more
twenty-twenty vision kind

- Listen

don't shame them or be all too ready to belittle them
don't be dismissive of them with no respect for them
and for what has led them and theirs
to their honestly held position

- Listen

assume their good faith and in a space that's safe
assume a position of good natured
mutual consideration and seek mutual revelation
of God-given wisdom

-Listen

And as you clear that common ground
you are bound to build a safer compound
a creator-shared hallowed ground
where the heard are found
while bound for wisdom –

together.

The truth and power of our faith hangs on the cross,
on the height of sacrifice,
on the lengths and depths Christ was willing to go
from holy conception to physical resurrection
from Passover supper to Emmaus meal,
to fish on the beach, to the promise of a feast
at his Father's family table.

The truth on which we stand hangs on God made man
and on us made new, all due to our LORD Jesus Christ,
God's most loved Son, our loving Saviour,
our once and for all time holy, acceptable sacrifice.

The truth and power of our faith
hangs on His cross
but now stands on a rolled away stone,
revealing the empty space
that left Roman minds blown.

The truth is, the power of God is an early riser
and loves a walk in a garden
whether at the dawn of time
or before dawn on an Easter Sunday morn-ing.

The truth is, Jesus didn't waste time,
but got up early to be Mary’s before dawn guide
who promptly anointed his feet in tears one more time
(but he didn’t seem to mind)

and she spread the news
that the Truth was up and walking
way before the doubts and lies got talking.

She told them
the truth is, there's no need to rage against the coming of the night
for Jesus entered death’s domain with his pure and living light.
And before sunrise, he rose in plain sight.

The truth is,
Jesus is the Way and the Truth and New Life
and He walks with you in the early-morning Easter Light.

So rise, go out
and share his creation-wide invite.
And tell them this truth:
Jesus is alive.

[And the people of God said with one voice: Amen.]

Isn't it unfair? I mean,
why does your heart grow back bigger?
I mean, it grows - why? Experience?
Is it a version of 'what doesn't **** you,' etc.
Is it cos it gets stretched to breaking point?
Or maybe it's more like how water
expands when frozen
(that makes no sense, ignore that last bit.)
But your heart does seem to grow
back after a while, and it feels bigger.
Or maybe it just feels emptier
because it got used to being so full.
Anyhow, I'm left with this bloated heart.
So, I'll keep writing,
hoping to keep the excess in check.  
Or at least it'll give it a workout.
Till it has something better to do.

Reading as resistance
Not reading as distraction

A prologue of Reflection
An intro in Contemplation

Then commence with Participation
Continue in Expedition
Subdue with Rebellion
Prevail in Revolution

And savour the Liberation
Of a book well read.

You think I won't?
You see I will.
You better belie' me
I ain't even lyin'
This is real, guy.
This is what I meanne.
'nuff of this sh#t.
'full of sh#t...
This is change -
You jus see.

Not too old to dance
Not too big to rumba
Never passing up a chance
To feel a little younger

Still learning some new steps
Hearing brand new beats
Sensing curious rhythms
Finding both my feet

Using all my muscles
Controlling my meander
With a God given freedom
To release the inner dancer

Old friends say they see
The dancer that they knew
They recognise the steps
Each one tried and true

So, whilst I’m not as spry
And maybe I’m less graceful
You won’t stop me dancing
Just not on any tables

The muted cuckoo goes through the hourly motions, miming dutiful repetitions
which in time is lip-read til we appreciate what's long-gone unsaid.

Another hour has sped by, pregnant with unrealised promise.