I live by daily participating
and not by distant gesticulating.

I live by putting love into action,
not by singing for holy intervention.

I live by getting both hands soiled,
not sanitised and kept unspoiled.

If you want to follow the Nazarene
you can't keep your hands wet wipe clean.

This is life as he envisaged -
living like we're one big village.

Roll up your sleeves to each elbow,
let's serve together and not alone.

This is life as Jesus did it -
all hands-on, with dirt and spit!

Once in a while take a rest from persuing well-being and practice your ill-being,  prepare your heart for sadness, so that once grief springs up from the darkness you will be better equipped to bear the weight and to use the now familiar tools to shape, to form your pain into something that includes a hand hold, something that maybe slows the unfolding, the unravelling that comes with that uncontrolled mourning, something that allows you to carry it with less stagger and while you're no less sadder, you may reduce your tauma and may have greater access to that part of your grey matter that allows more focus on where, in time, to lay that burden down.

A stronger sense of a shifting alliance,
a richer aroma of a growing assurance,
a longer shadow of an alternate position
and a faint echo of a younger ambition,
coalescing into a whisper
of a change of direction,
cracking open a narrow door
of renewed anticipation
and waiting for me
to PUSH.

I recommend a light oil and a short comb, keeping sissors to hand to cultivate that King George V shape or, if you are feeling brave, go for the majesty of a full Henry VIII.

Be present
and present yourself to the now.
Ready for the not yet, yes,
but fully engaged with this stage of your story
before you continue your aging journey.
Relish this stave, this chord
and let it resonate sufficient
for others to appreciate the accord,
the melody
that comes from ignoring the risk of arriving late
and instead embracing the reverberate.
Let it captivate, facinate while you wait
in your latest, lasting, linger-longer note of now.

It won’t be a surprise, you know what I'm saying?
I - just - love –Ealing, whether working or playing.
I've been on my travels, I've been here, I've been there
I've followed my Jesus, ‘til He led me here.

And now I can't help it, I love every street
and as I turn 50, people ask, 'Pete,
why are you stirred to serve this old city
with Isaac and Josh, with Lois and Nicky?'

'Oh, golly', I say, 'Isn't it clear?
It's the call of Jesus each day that I hear.'
But, hand - on - my – heart, it's a challenge - isn't it?
How do I serve, when I'm five foot six?

Now I love a good quote. I know you don’t judge,
but some people say I love them too much.
I love a great movie, but sit at the rear
so people around me won't notice my tears.
[I'm just being honest with you.]

I love a good read, I've got books wall to wall
and I love the Arsenal when they're on the ball.
I was in the Olympics, did I tell you that?
If you look real closely you might see my cap.

I love Redeemer, the believers who gather,
how they will turn up to worship no matter.
I love just how creative some of them are,
the wannabe poets, the guys on guitar.

Now I mustn't embarrass anyone here,
but I love my dear wife, just so that's clear.
I love my three kids in no special order;
as they keep on growing I’ll cheer ever louder.

And each day I go walking, I might even run,
cos by living with passion I might serve the Son.
I - just - love – Ealing.  Do I hear an Amen?
Let's stride out together!  Redeemer-London!

In the beginning was the Word
And the Word was good - good and powerful
And so those in power dictated what was allowable
Claiming the rights of absolutum dominium
But soon found it too strong to be restrained by barriers of the tongue

And while they thought the Word was securely locked
It turned out to be the kinda Word that could not be blocked

It was still very good - good and angry
And in righteous anger in duplicate it broke free

To invade the hearts and minds of the laity
Of men and women like you, like me

to shake off the shackles of the antiquated educated
And to settle into the more readily disseminated.

The Word was out and stayed out after curfew
Keen to travel as far as it could do

To spread wide it's indelible red ink stain
A no matter how hard you scrub it will still remain kinda stain

Recklessly stubborn, to colour, to infest
to fully extend its world wide out stretch

Using every digital tweet and text
And to go on to cast its world wide net

So now you can all binge-feast on the freed up goodness
Of the eternal Word who was once made flesh