A Fresh Touch From Jesus

Recently we were blessed to have Stephen Van Rhyn, visit and preach to us at Redeemer. He is part of the leadership team for Advance, the group of churches we are part of, and he also leads Jubilee Community Church in Cape Town, South Africa.

When he visited and spoke to us he focused on the testimony of the blind man who was healed by Jesus which is found in Mark 8:22-25. It was a Sunday where God so clearly moved amongst us in worship and also through what Stephen shared with us! Our resident poet Steve Page has written the following poem off the back of his message, to which you can find a link at the bottom of this page, in case you haven’t heard it yet, or simply wanted to listen again!

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Double Touch

I need the double touch of His grace on my face, hinging on His mercy coupled with His ability to not assume, to not barrel past, but to rather ask (and twice ask) with His intentional hearing and His long compassionate waiting.

Jesus wasn't one for placing His touch 'in passing', but placing His touch with presence - His was an off-the-fence, no-pretence full in the face presence. He held back from the passing pack and exercised the knack of going far enough to reach a truer understanding, to reach out with both arms to allow Him to encompass all previous experience of mishandling.

He knew that truthfully the healing is secondary to the true medicinal touch, to the reassuring brush with acceptance, to the knowing that you've received close hearing and closer grasping - a meeting of more than minds, a confidence of souls truly embracing and only releasing once we have the assurance of knowing that we've been double-touched with honesty and that we're twice as much connected fully and gracefully with the One who never turned anyone away.

Mark 8:22-25
22 They came to Bethsaida, and some people brought a blind man and begged Jesus to touch him.
23 He took the blind man by the hand and led him outside the village. When he had spit on the man’s eyes and put his hands on him, Jesus asked, “Do you see anything?”
24 He looked up and said, “I see people; they look like trees walking around.”
25 Once more Jesus put his hands on the man’s eyes. Then his eyes were opened, his sight was restored, and he saw everything clearly.

Transforming Prayer Poetry - Week 7

Throughout this season of Transforming Prayer, we have been constantly growing in our ability to pray with confidence, and learning how to pray in different ways and in different situations.

Steve’s poem this week reflects a journey of learning, being transformed, and growing into great pray-ers.

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Flyer

Not everyone flies.
You land hard a lot.
Then just as you think 
it's time for a new direction,
just as you think 
it's not worth another stumble, 
a fresh fall onto your knees,
you launch and take flight.

An updraft catches your wings 
and you're airborne.
And when you eventually land 
you see that you've got 
somewhere new,
a whole new perspective.
That's when you know you're a flyer.

Not every line flies.
You land hard a lot.
Then just as you think 
it's time for a new direction,
just as you think 
it's not worth another stumble, 
a fresh fall,
your thoughts take flight.

An updraft catches your wings
and you're airborne. 
And when you eventually land 
you see that you've got 
somewhere new,
a whole new perspective.
That's when you know you're a poet.

Not every prayer flies.
You land hard a lot.
Then just as you think 
it's time for a new direction,
just as you think 
it's not worth another stumble, 
a fresh fall onto your knees,
your prayer takes flight.

Your spirit resonates with His
and you see His face.
And when you get to your 'Amen',
you see that you've got 
somewhere new,
a whole new perspective.
That's when you know you're a pray-er.

Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.

1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

Transforming Prayer Poetry - Week 6

This week in our meetups we have been focusing on praying for a breakthrough on our lives and the lives of others around us.

Steve’s latest poem tells a story of that kind of breakthrough we are praying for, a story of bruises, scars, and healing.

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Mister New

I see you there
keep looking at me
but I'm not sure 
what it is you see

I'm no-one's 'boy'
I'm not 'hey you'
my name's Mister
it's 'Mister New'

I've got old scars
raw scars too
but I'm not sure 
it's clear to you

wounds can only 
go so deep
there's only so long 
that they can bleed

you might see wounded
see black and blue
but save your pity
that's all about you

I've grow taller 
through broken skin
my roots sink deeper 
than you've ever been

when you're up close
you'll see it's true
my fresh healed skin's
a real break through

I've got a name
so I'd thank you
when you address me
say 'Mister New'

Transforming Prayer Poetry - Week 5

We have passed the half way mark of our Transforming Prayer meetups, and it’s been incredible to hear stories of growing communities of passionate individuals coming together to pray!

We are called not just to pray as individuals, but to join together and pray, as a team, just as the early church did in Acts 2:42.

They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and to fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer.

Steve Page’s latest poem, inspired by the recent six nations rugby tournament, paints an inspiring picture of what a praying community looks like.

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A TEAM SPORT

[In the voice of your favourite over-excited rugby commentator.]

We're inside the final quarter. We've seen a bone-cruncher of a contest today and there's no sign of a let up, the prayers gather for the next engagement, positioning themselves with practiced confidence, skillfully supporting each other, ready for the push.  You can see every knee and each hand bears the marks from this long muddied pray, red and brown staining every inch of their entwined limbs; - arms and hands holding fast.

Front row.
Second row.
Back row.
Digging in for the big push.

The opposition has played an intelligent game, taking advantage of any lapse in concentration, any sign of tiredness, looking for any weakness to exploit.  The prayers know they can't afford any slips now, they need to keep up the pressure, maintain their advance deep in the opposition's half.  Every yard of gained ground needs to be defended.

The prayers' Coach looks on - look at his smile! You can see the pride he has for his team, he's schooled them on every tactic of the opposition and now that training, that practice has paid dividends. This is a team of prayers that so clearly know each other well, supporting each other every step of the way. You can see their co-ordinated pray, their sustained effort and the sheer pleasure they feel when they are praying together.

The prayers drive on.  The sound of their groans and deep breaths merge into one. There's a rhythm to it, a cadence as together they push and PUSH. 

The opposition's footing is slipping, the prayers' momentum gains pace and, YES! the resistance collapses.  Oh, that must have hurt!

But there's no time for complacency, the prayers re-form their line looking for the next opening, the next opportunity to push forward.

This is a joy to see.  The Coach shouts his encouragement - this was never going to be an easy struggle; you can't dismiss the opposition - they are a seasoned though sometimes disorganised team and they can take you by surprise.  But as we've seen here today, the Coach knows that if his team of prayers keep to the plan and pray to their strengths, the opposition are surely in for a hiding. The prayers will triumph and they will take the winners' crown. 
- Back to you in the studio.

Transforming Prayer Poetry - Week 2

This week is our first week of Transforming Prayer! As we look together at the purpose of prayer, Steve’s poem this week reminds us that prayer is always about relationship…

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Prayer

How many times a day do you pray?

As many as needed.
Some days only once.
But it might take all day.

SING A NEW SONG

My life is hitting a period of change.  Change can be unsettling at times as we let go of the familiar and take a step of faith into a new arena. Sometimes we run to grab a new opportunity. Sometimes the transition can be a little more tentative.  
This poem is about grasping change with a little help.  


Oh, grant me a new song.
A start again fresh with no regrets song.
One with a bridge to a new accord, 
a song with which I can get on board.
Something that strikes a stronger chord
with those who like me
long to be fully
factory
restored. 

A song with a fresher melody
(and I definitely need a different harmony),
something that's part of a wider symphony
maybe with an occasional solo part
for me.

A song that I can sing with greater gusto,
maybe to a slightly quicker tempo,
a step up from my imposed Adagio,
closer to a brisker Allegretto.

Oh Lord, 
you see me.
You see that I long to sing.
Can you please
wipe me clean
and write a new song with me.

by Steve Page

For more of Steve's poems, his latest anthology 'Not too big to weep' is available on amazon: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1549894706/ref=cm_sw_r_em_apa_DGj4zbZZK23D6

START WITH THE FEET

And when you serve,
Start with the feet

And when you serve,
Get down low
With a towel and water bowl

And when you serve,
Find your honour not over
But under
Not higher
But lower
Not first
But last.

So when you serve,
Don't wait your turn
But push your way
To the back.
Where you'll find
Nothing to prove
Nothing to hide
And nothing to loose
But your pride.

Yes, you heard,
When you serve
Observe his example:
Undo a sandal
And start with the feet.

John 13:1-17
Matthew 20:25

KEEP SNIFFING

Keep sniffing

And when you pray
Ask
And when you pray
Seek
And when you pray
Knock til He hears
And keep sniffing around
Through your tears
To find the doors
That He has prepared
To brand new frontiers
For His pioneers.

Matthew 7:7-8

Do whatever it takes

Earlier this year I was listening to the series of Sunday messages on how to bless those around us.

What struck me was the unambiguity of the Gospel.

Jesus showed us by example. He blessed others with his words, his presence at a meal, by healing and meeting people's needs. He sent his disciples out (see Matthew 10) to bless. If the households they met weren't receptive they were to move on. They were to focus on blessing others.

There's an urgency to this.

Go, and Bless.

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Spit

Go empty handed and be fruitful
Lay on hands and be liberal
When you pour your oil,
Spit in the soil if you have to
Whatever it takes to
Bring healing and restoration
To those who have a notion
To listen to you whom I have chosen
To bring good news to the nations.
And to each family which shows willing
Give greetings
With a voice ringing true and bringing
Peace and blessings
To all who reside in each dwelling
For you are a herald of the most high King
Sent to ensure His shalom and kingdom
Hits home before you move on.
Go empty handed and be fruitful
Lay on hands and be liberal
When you pour your oil
Spit in the soil if you have to
Whatever it takes...

HOW TO GET HAPPY WHEN LIFE IS GETTING YOU DOWN

While at Newday, a group of teenagers were invited to take part in the shooting of a video, Joy has a name. Newday gives a safe and fun environment for over 5,000 teenagers to worship and learn more about Jesus, God's Son.

Part of the thread of the 2016 festival was the connection between the fruit of the Spirit and the person of Jesus.

It strikes me that often when we are encouraged to 'take joy' from happy circumstances, this suggests that joy is something to be grasped while it's available.

"I took great joy in seeing my grandchild smiling up at me."

"I took joy in being able to bask in such a beautiful sunset."

But it turns out that part of the fruit of the Spirit of Jesus is Joy: It's not taken by us, it's given by Jesus.

Joy - like fruit - grows and develops by virtue of the life flowing through the tree that bears it; in this case, the tree is Jesus.

Being a follower of Jesus, having his Spirit within us, gives the fruit of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Like fruit, these take time to grow and develop, however they are not dependent on our circumstances, but on our connection to Jesus.

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Joy has a name

Joy has a name
Whispered in awe,
Shouted in triumph and
Partied abroad.

Joy out-runs
Mourning and tears,
Drowns out hatred and
Drives out fears.

Joy brings peace
And laughter soon after,
Joy gives release and
Heals much faster.

Joy has a name
Above all others
His name is Jesus
Joy of many colours.

If this seems like something out of your grasp, please come and find out more at Redeemer. You can find us on any Sunday morning at 10 am at Ealing Town Hall.

WHAT TO DO WHEN NO-ONE UNDERSTANDS HOW YOU'RE FEELING: INSEEP STILLENT TREMBLE-WRAP, BUMPBRUSH AND RESTILAX

Have you ever felt totally alone?

It's as if no-one is speaking your language.

As much as you try to express how you are feeling, and your friends nod obligingly, you feel like you're missing the mark; no one understands.

It can sometimes feel as if even God is not on your side. 

Psalm 88 expresses the feeling of abandonment well:

But I cry to you for help, Lord;
in the morning my prayer comes before you.
Why, Lord, do you reject me
and hide your face from me?

But soon, often through the healing prayers and conversation of those who've walked the same road themselves, comes healing and we can echo Psalm 147:

He heals the brokenhearted
and binds up their wounds.
He determines the number of the stars
and calls them each by name.
Great is our Lord and mighty in power;
his understanding has no limit.

In this poem I've tried to put some of this into words:

(Those of you for whom English is your second language, don't panic; I've made up a lot of these words to emphasise just how difficult it is to express our feelings and how baffling we can appear to those around us.  But God understands.)

His stillent, smally whispers ooze into my mindconscious
like a dusk-sweet hotchoc, 
like a mocha sunrise welcoming wide
with embracements louder than fearage, 
not instructioning, but come in mending,
pushing enlightenmentations, praisements and incouragabilities
that I inseep onto my naked black and bruises.  
I tremble-wrap his echo within my born-worn soul
but he stainleaks through my weak cardio
when I bumpbrush against heartbeatings as fraggi-brittle as mine.
His hushed shade cools and breaths an enveloping: 
           "I understand." 
And so I restilax in his softly stronging arms.

Sometimes we know we're not making any sense; we just need someone to understand. I have a God for that.

If you identify with any of this, please know that you have a God who knows you and understands you to your core.  I encourage you to read the Psalms where you'll find those who have walked your path or something like it. And I encourage you to find friends who can walk with you. 

You will find fellow travellers at Redeemer, a community of Christians who value honest living and who worship a God who knows us.  You'll be most welcome.

I'M A BIG BOY NOW, AND I STILL CRY. HERE'S WHY...

"Don't cry. You're a big boy now."

Growing up in the 60s and 70s I can clearly recall the admonishment to wipe away my tears and 'be a big boy'. 

OK, so I was a teary child. 

My school reports from junior school note that I was a 'sensitive child'.  When emotions ran high, tears would flow.  My eyes are still likely to well up in response to a song or a TV drama.  I also find that my eyes water in worship and in prayer. 

I used to be embarrassed by this readiness to cry (it wasn't appropriate when I was a police constable!),  but now in my 50s, I worry less about what others may think and focus more on what my emotional response is telling me. 

It may simply indicate that I'm emotionally or physically over-stretched and that I need some down time.  It might be an appropriate empathetic reaction to the story of a fellow human being.  It can be a response to the compassion shown by a friend.

Or it may be the wholly appropriate reflex when I'm overwhelmed by God's presence.

Tears are good. They are a communicator, they are an indicator, a release. 

There's a physiological reason why we feel better after 'a good cry'.  Tears release stress and kill pain.  They are also natural eye drops and they contain antibacterials.

(Excess tears can also flood the drainage ducts that lead into the nasal passage, hence the runny nose when you're crying.)

I now embrace that emotional side of me and I value those I meet who feel the same, especially if they are grown men.  Jesus wasn't afraid to weep in public (see Luke 19:41 and John 11:35) and neither should we be.

This poem is to all you grown men out there who aren't afraid to weep.

Love you, mate.
Love your contagious tears
As they breach your ducts,
And gloss your cheeks,
Running free and reaching down
Past the lump in your throat
to your vulnerable heart.

Love you, mate.
Love your resistance to temptation
To back hand compassion,
Instead emoting with no hesitation,
Never embarrassed
To tell the world
That no-one's too big to weep.

If you are quick to tears, don't be embarrassed.   It's just part of being human. 

And you'll find that your tears are not out of place at Redeemer on a Sunday morning at Ealing town hall.  Feel free to join us from 10:30am.

A POEM FOR CHRISTMAS

Christmas can be a time
When families get together:
Young children scream, wine glasses gleam,
Both ready for M&S dinner.

TV's in the corner
Rerunning Home Alone,
Heart Radio's in the kitchen,
Chris Rea's driving home, 
Again.

Toddlers find the wrapping
More engaging than the Duplo
Teen couples find the company
Less of interest than their own.

The dog's confused and excited
With so many different sources
Of scratches and pats, he can't relax,
His whining is remorseless.

Christmas can be a time
When families are missed,
The parcel made last post
Winging off to little sis.

Skype will come in handy
To laugh across the miles,
The screen will mask the tears
And focus on the smiles.

Gran will talk of Christmas past
When everyone was home
'Cept in Gulf War 1 when Uncle John
Went away, ....

Christmas can be a time
When budgets get stretched tight,
Cash pressures get to breaking point
And prompt senseless fights.

Some focus on opportunity
To spend some gilt-free money,
The only prayers are for extra hours
And a faster Tesco trolley.

For others it's simply 'Yuletide'
An excessive celebration,
A winter feast, all you can eat,
Give in to all temptation.

Most focus on the family,
Even more on the gifts;
There's little time for Jesus
Assigned amongst the myths.

Some do remember Jesus
From half-forgotten carols,
They know there's something more
Than donkeys and angel heralds.

For there He is in the middle,
Noticed once in a while;
It's His birthday, but all He's getting
Is a half-hearted song and a smile.

He's no longer a babe in a manger,
He's now a resurrected King,
Waiting for those who would worship
To stand and welcome Him in.

Whatever your experience of Christmas
You can come just as you are,
His love is unconditional
He'll accept you warts and all.

So come on!
It’s a season to celebrate!
To dance, to sing and to shout!
Your Saviour invites you to join Him,
So when you sing this Christmas,
BELT it out.

TURN ADVENT UPSIDE-DOWN, SHE SAID...

This year in the run up to Christmas I was struck by an idea floating on the web.

A reverse advent calendar.

Instead of (or as well as) opening an advent calendar door each morning for a piece of chocolate to munch with your cereal flakes of choice, create a collection for someone struggling to make ends meet this Christmas.

Here's how it works.

Each day in the run up to Christmas, put aside a staple food item, or something a little more festive. And just before Christmas, hand it to a local foodbank or a charity supporting the homeless, to be passed on to someone who may not be looking forward to the same happy Christmas time that you are.

Find out ideas for the best items to include and your local foodbank at the Trussell Trust website.

If you're in Ealing, why not head straight to the Ealing Foodbank Redeemer helped to set up.

Spread some joy this Christmas.

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Reverse Advent

This year, although I know
That you're keen
To set up that nativity scene, 
I'm advocating an alternative means, 
A change in priorities
For your generosity.

I'm anointing a reversal, 
Suggesting you parcel
A hamper of staples
And so turn the tables
On advent doors
That ignore the poor. 

I'm asking that you choose
To proclaim the good news
Beyond the pews, 
To pursue a change of people's views
Of what they thought they knew
This meant.
Yes, let's reverse this advent
And make something heaven-sent. 

Have a great Advent.

#ND16

Last month I spent a week at Newday festival in Norfolk. We were under canvas with around 1,000 other adults creating a safe place for over 5,000 12-18 year olds from churches across the UK (and a couple from the Netherlands).

A space to worship, pray and celebrate, and to learn about a God who is alive and fully relevant to their lives.

I found it a great privilege to be there. It was hot and sunny, and windy, and the positive attitude of everyone I met spoke volumes of their faith and passion for Jesus.

I wrote this while lazing under a tree thinking through what I had seen.

#ND16

This is what you came for...
Queues for showers
while you chat.
Hedgehogs and balloons
both going splat.
High-flying paint
on winds of change.
Great food smells
and others more strange.
Volley ball pitches
expanding as needed.
Praying for others,
strongholds defeated.
Songwriting and painting
on paper and faces.
Dodgems and climbing,
voices and praises.
This what you came for -
A Newday Generation.

If you have children that qualify by age, or if you have a week that you can give to helping make Newday happen, I recommend it.

100%.

Please ask for more information at Redeemer on any Sunday at Ealing Town Hall 10 am.

HOW DYLAN THOMAS RESISTING TINKERING REVEALS MY NEED FOR CONTENTMENT

I read this in a prologue to Dylan Thomas' collection of poems. This contains all the poems he wished to preserve around a year before his death:

"Some of them I have revised a little, but if I went on revising everything that I now do not like in this book I should be so busy that I would have no time to try to write new poems."

Dylan Thomas wrote some of the most moving and mesmerising poetry and prose - and he would have tinkered with them had he allowed himself to focus away from new ideas.

I take 2 lessons away from that.

Lesson 1

You may never be fully content with what you have created, be it a song, a piece of art, an essay, a photograph. But that doesn't mean others will not consider it beautiful and place great value it. 

Lesson 2

You may never be fully content with who you are. 
But that does not mean you are not beautiful to those around you, 
That does not mean that you do not have purpose. 
That does not mean you have not brought hope and joy to others.

Whilst it is true that God does not leave you in draft form and you will always be on your way to perfection, it is also true that you are most excellent.  
He has created someone wonderful in you. You are fit for the purpose he has for you right now.

So don't spend so much of your time adding finishing touches that you fail to celebrate what you have created and what our Creator has crafted in and through you.

You are splendid. Celebrate that.

A poem inspired by warm homes

I really value the warmth of the homes that welcomed me in as a teenager. The families that made a conscious effort to open their homes and their families to friends of their children. I learned a lot from them about priorities and the importance of nurturing an instinct for inclusion. I still value invites to share everyday stuff with friends.

This poem is written in acknowledgement of the families who extended their homes to me and my friends. Thank you.

---

Home from Home

Step over the threshold
And through the front hall
Full of shoes and possibilities.
Come to a kitchen table
Where you are able
To shed the cold and to unroll your soul
Against its worn and warm knots, 
Flavoured with cookies and coffee mugs
And echoes of late chats and early plans
And sneak-behind hugs.
Let the love that pools here
Soak into your marrow
Put aside tomorrow
And so launder your heart clean of fear.
Our home is your home,
Come pull up your chair.

---

Here's a challenge for you.

This week, find an opportunity to offer a welcoming inclusion to someone outside your family. It may be an invite to a family meal, a trip to the cinema, or even a trip to IKEA (other furniture stores are also available).

Be a model of inclusion.

Here's an invitation to you.

Come along to Ealing Town Hall at 10am this Sunday morning, where you'll find a welcome from the family at Redeemer.

SPIDER-MAN AND YOU HAVE AN IMPORTANT THING IN COMMON

I'm a Marvel comic book fan, have been since my junior school years. I was born the same year as the Amazing Spider-Man, 1962. I know his origin story as well as I know my own life story.  Steve Ditko and Stan Lee created a memorable character.

I love how every Marvel character has a distinct origin story and clear character traits that are consistently threaded through the story lines of the past 50 years.

Spider-Man, Peter Parker, is an orphan and unlucky in love; he's a geek, but really smart and he's usually struggling financially. He learned to his cost that with great power comes great responsibility, but little personal security.

The Incredible Hulk, Bruce Banner, is a mild-mannered scientist with an angry alter ego. Consistently misunderstood and hounded by the authorities, there's no situation that can't be improved with a double handed smash.

Marvel writers typically keep their stories consistent with the continuity established in earlier publications. But sometimes a bold writer might depart from Marvel lore, changing the character or altering their circumstances. Some fans would react favorably, some would send hate mail. (Fans have a lot invested in their childhood heroes.)

As an adult now I have a few years of adventures behind me; some I'm proud of, some I'm not.  I'm grateful that the good news of Jesus Christ is that he does not tie his followers to their earlier story lines, trying to maintain consistent continuity. He uses that foundation to build something new. A new start, a new heart and healing of the past.

Christ does not limit you based on your past. Irrespective of your socio-economic standing, your gender, your education, your race, your scars - Christ brings new life. Irrespective of past mistakes, Jesus brings hope.

---

Broken Continuity.

Skin deep scars were easy to shoulder,
while the deeper ones each hardened my heart. 
Life-long wounds still wept and smouldered, 
carving permanent paths.
Hidden cuts wouldn't stop itching, 
and beneath my smile shadows kept screaming.
Treacherous memories would sting
and bite right through my once thick skin
then slowly burrow, refusing to die,
spreading their cursed lies ...

The scars are mine, the wounds are real, 
the memories follow me, still
I was the haunted boy, the wild child. 
I was the son, loved, beaten and reviled.  
I was the dreamer. I was the drama. 
I was the fiction that made me me...... 
--
That was then, but now see,
I have a new writing team,
a change in narrative, a brand new me,
a departure from past continuity.
Now I have a team-up. 
Now I have back-up. 
And in this story arc,
I get a power-up:
one new ability,
His power to HEAL ME!

---

Life's not a comic book, it's much more exciting than that.

If you would like to know more about how Jesus changes lives, why not come along to Redeemer this Sunday. You won't find any superheroes, but you will find people enjoying renewed lives. 

MANIFESTO FOR AN INTERNATIONAL CHURCH

Ealing is home to people from over 170 nations, so it shouldn't come as a surprise to see around 30 nationalities meeting God together, every Sunday morning at Ealing town hall.

I cannot but be impressed by the unifying effect of God's spirit.

I believe in one international church. 
I believe in an inter-racial and unbiased church of many nations. 
I believe in one church of many traditions. 
I believe in one church not hemmed in by history or by man-made borders. 
I believe in a God for whom his pallet of skin colours reflects his love of diversity. 
I believe in God-given racial differences. 
I believe in one creator God who made all mankind equal. 
I believe in a church that reflects her maker's love of difference. 
I do not believe in uniformity. 
I believe in the common language of love for one another, for neighbours and for enemies that transcends local dialects. 
I believe in one sundry collection of priests who are called to serve one God together, saved by one sacrifice once and for all time. 
I believe in the promise of a resurrected church drawn from all generations to meet her bridegroom. 
I believe in one eternal wedding feast which features everything from the finest vegetable samosas to the richest steam puddings. 
I believe in one extravagant Father who has built one massive mansion with many rooms so all his people can come and dwell together. 
I believe in God's Kingdom come. 

Why not join the throng.

FATHER IS A VERB

We're community, and the community works best with strong relationships. It can be tempting to live life with the mantra "Family first", to put me and mine before those I rub shoulders with daily. But that path deprives us of community. I was fortunate to have strong role models around me outside my immediate family to supplement the parenting I got at home.  That helped mould me as a person.

I now live as part of a local community in Ealing and as part of a church community called Redeemer.  I'm thankful that I still benefit from the support and friendship of those I worship with.

One aspect of this is benefiting from the fatherly care of my pastor and people like him.

The poem that follows celebrates this fathering I've received over the years, from older cousins, mentors, friends and pastors.  And from my late dad, the 'Honey Monster'.

(With great thanks to Godfrey Rust, who wrote a wonderful poem called 'Church is a verb'.)

Father is a verb.

Father's Day; and
Father Christmas
have tried to convince us,
but don't be fooled:
You can, may or will father,
depending on your mood.
For father is a verb.

It only works in the transitive;
you can't father alone,
only in relationship.

It doesn't resent hospital trips,
and offers wrap-around comfort
when a partnership
splits.

It's touch-line volume
drowns out all rivals.
And belly laughs come standard
with jokes on recycle.
Yes, father is a verb.

It's something that men do,
despite the hour,
it drives right on through
the night when life’s gone sour.
It'll hammer ten finger nails
to get the job done.

It will dance, heedless of decorum
forgetting reputation
(- with an ill-suited hat on).

It turns manliness
into awesome-men-ness,
it tempers strength
with a dose of gentleness. Yes,
father is a verb.

It works in the singular:
I can father;
you can father
      (I'm not talking sex here;
      that takes a partner.)
It works in the plural:
we can father; and
they can father, because,
you see, in this village
it's an joint activity,
we father (and mother)
collaboratively.

It works best in the present tense,
happening now, not "LATER!"
-
It can be said in a gentle voice
or something - even - quieter;

sometimes active: directive, protecting;
but often responsive: just sitting, listening;
...holding and hugging;
it responds to need, you see,
but works best
proactively,
works great
sacrificially.

For example,

though it cost him dearly,
God Fathers us
and through us daily.
And one day, suit pressed,
He'll proudly walk
with the bride of Christ.
And as Father of the bride,
He'll host the party and blow the price;

(- BIGGEST - bar-bill - EVER)

And we'll be sure to save at least one dance
for Father.

Oh yes, you heard:
Father is a verb.

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