St Brendon

Today I sat in a ‘traditional 1980’s church, the type I grew up in. The type my Dad use to lead and the type Id fallen asleep in too many times. Yet this time it was different.

It was all about supporting ‘the Abbyfield community project’ of which Richard Smith (of Colchester Boiler room community) is an employee. As I sat on the front row (yep the front row) the sight was strangely exciting. Behind the sea of gray hair, shocking electro piano backed with per-recorded electro drum lead worship, under the standard collage style hanging material, was something quite beautiful. 3 Church of England vicars, two Methodist ministers, one Baptist minister and a united reform fella (who didn’t quite make it) and our very own Richard Smith. All together to back a church planting, community building, relationship growing thing. It was beautiful.

Yeah I could tear into the meeting layout, the stand up sit down, Yes and amen sandwich. We could laugh at the oldest of old skool songs or threat about the lack of anyone under 55. But the fact remains 6 churches, in the same building supporting the greater good and loving Jesus. Simple, and beautiful

After a mammoth week of a lot of hours, confusion and disappointment. The realisation of not knowing much and not having anyone to talk about it with, tonight I heard a prayer.

This is the prayer or St Brendon the 2^nd most famous Irish Saint (apparently) He was famous for setting out a boat to sea, not knowing where he would land but trusting that God had it all in his hands. This will be the prayer for the next ........I’m not sure how long.

Shall I abandon, O King of mysteries, the soft comforts of home? Shall I turn my back on my native land, and turn my face towards the sea?

Shall I put myself wholly at your mercy, without silver, without a horse, without fame, without honour? Shall I throw myself wholly upon You, without sword and shield, without food and drink, without a bed to lie on? Shall I say farewell to my beautiful land, placing myself under Your yoke?

Shall I pour out my heart to You, confessing my manifold sins and begging forgiveness, tears streaming down my cheeks? Shall I leave the prints of my knees on the sandy beach, a record of my final prayer in my native land?

Shall I then suffer every kind of wound that the sea can inflict? Shall I take my tiny boat across the wide sparkling ocean? O King of the Glorious Heaven, shall I go of my own choice upon the sea?

O Christ, will You help me on the wild waves?

St Brendon

I just.....

I just, .....I just, ..... can’t explain

My current mental state I’m starting to find hard to maintain

My main aim

My main game

My same way

Are falling

And I feel like I’m losin it

Look

I’m just trying

With all I am - to be good

To, do that thing I’m sure I’m sure I thought I should

To do right, to be nice, to live life

And be a really good guy

To keep my head high

To seek to know why

To speak truth and not lie

But to lie

Myself down

For the sake of my brother

And if the opportunity arises maybe even my enemy

But its killing me

Ok, so I exaggerate

But also to I exacerbate

As I dig deeper in the this pit of shit I uncovered

And fell in

And now I stink

I feel, I feel, I

Na, that’s not right for me to right

Coz that would require me to actually feel something

Yet at this moment I feel nothing

And I’m left to ask.....

“why do the good die young?

Why do dickheads have all the fun?

Why is when there’s work to do there’s no one

Yet if they want something, there’s, everyone

And while I’m asking

Why to beautiful girls date idiot horrible guys just coz they look a bit kool?

And why did I fail at school?

And why, did I never listen

to the advice of those beside that left me behind to clime high?

Matter of fact – why do i even try?

Like I said

I was honestly just simply trying to do good

Make a choice that might someday result in some next guy having a slightly better life

And maybe – one day someone, might just remember me

For one tiny good deed?

But right now it’s hard to see if even one of these steps might be right

I’m so deep in this hole I cant barely see light

So why fight?

Then someone hands me a letter

It says

Dear you (me)

I am them, him her, everybody, every conversation you didn’t here and every situation you didn’t see

I just want you to know while you’re stuck in the whole - you gave me a foot up so I could roll

And, you didn’t fail school

You might not have the grade

but you stood tall and brave and

Learned from mistakes

And moved on

That time you said “you should listen to this song?”

Well - that helped

That time you lent me £2.40, to me that was big, it was sharing wealth

I see its hard where your living

Knowing somehow your trying but just not fitting

But when I was that guy I want you to know, you helped me and gave me a hand

Writing to me, helped keep me sane

Visiting me, blew my brain

Those kind words didn’t go unheard

They helped me play the game

look

I know the roads tuff

But

Like you say

Son, keep ya head up

Even though you can’t see

keep climbing and think of me

be sure - You’re doing enuff!

Matter of fact a little too much

Learn from your mistakes, don’t let them define you

Don’t worry about what people think and looking kool

Do what YOU do.

It doesn’t go unnoticed

Don’t! Throw this

Roll with this

Go with this

Work on this

When it gets hard don’t quit

Pray hard and learn from it

So next time you don’t make the same mistake with it

Trust me

You got this

But that thing you said - about the girls and the idiot guys........yeah, I know what you’re saying, I cant answer it?????

Redemption

Re·demp·tion

n.

1. The act of redeeming or the condition of having been redeemed.

2. Recovery of something pawned or mortgaged.

3. The payment of an obligation, as a government's payment of the value of its bonds.

4. Deliverance upon payment of ransom; rescue.

5. Christianity Salvation from sin through Jesus's sacrifice.

As we sit in the visiting room after an hour or so of catching up, I look over to the window. The skyline provides that amazing winter sunset, the type when whole sky for as wide as your eyes stretched out is a mash up of pinkie orangie blue colours. Highlighting the putting an end to the light, and signalling a changes.

It’s only been 3 months and there’s only one to go, yet 4 weeks inside can seem like a life time on the out. Yet what these four walls can provide is something the world often miss’s. Time! To reflect, read, indulge your mind (for better or worse)

The true tails of Nicky Cruz, tony Anthony and such have obviously had an impact.

It’s hard to say when we first met, I remember sitting outside a prayer house in Essex a little to bemused to go in, yet as we sat outside with hot chocolate and his screwed up brow told of how much he was thinking about it all, I remember the hours of prayer and walking in circles around his house, I remember tea and problems shared at home, I remember bars slew in the garage. Scrapping smoking and messy stuff lead here, yet hope is what we leave with today.

That opportunity is for everybody, that time is a great healer and that redemption is there for the taking. If you want it bad enough and if your man enough to submit to it.

But my hand was made strong
By the hands of the almighty
We forward in this generation
Triumphantly

Won't you help to sing
These songs of freedom
'cause they all I ever had
Redemption songs, redemption songs Bob Marley

the music man

He gives out a shout ,

To all those that’s out

To friends, neighbours, and family ties

Its been a little while since we all dun sat together
Traded music stories and laughed together
The old man stands in the room, in the middle
Frayed sting for a belt tied around his middle

He shoes done walked for a fair few years

And his old flat cap mopped up a fair few tears
Till all of them came over
Rakia poured out till they just pass sober

All the kids run round man and cant sit down

Cuz they just spread the word round town

Come to ours its the one by the factory that’s falling down

The music mans back and he’s learned a few new sounds

He brought back a pal and they made a band

Hes got

old skool rugged working hands

That shook hands with plenty good and a few bad man

sat an sieved a while through times old sands

Yet hear he stands

Hold up his hands

Ushers a lill quite from the folk around

Then warms up his tired old trumpet hands

Prepares to play a riff on the trumpet

it’s the music man

And its the trumpet passed down from man to man,

He picked up from his very own old man

The one who’s picture hangs on the wall right now

And resides over all that goes down

And in the room right now,

Not but a few bits a change to rub together between all the fam

But none of that matters coz up he stands

And calls for quiet

“Its been a long time since we last sat down,

Since I walked the streets of our fair village and round

since then I sat in a fair few seats

And these two old ears picked up on plenty beats

And these old shoes have seen 1000’s a streets

I sat

In the back

Of a flat back truck

With my trumpet wedged between two pigs and a duck

Crossed 18 borders and never got stuck

Trains and boats and hitch hiked much

Dubrovnik ta Prague to the red light Amsterdam

To the city of seven hill I came rolling down

Stepped in the Vatican city and they kicked me out coz the sound of my trumpet was well to loud

I blew tunes at the royal opera house,

You know that road out the back where they all catch the cabs

Jus me my trumpet and some change sat in the bottom of my old flat cap.

From the east where we all sit now

To the west, where they can’t sit down

just to listen to a music man

I would stand on the corner trumpet in hand

And play a grove so deep it would knock you down

Most couldn’t stop so they just keep walking,

Walking and talking

Talking and talking bout business meetings

and business seating, and business evenings

and they were so busy they couldn’t meet the next big meeting

but

on occasion

someone would stop,

not a lot

but someone would stop

forget about all they stuff and just watch

as a I clinched my trumpet that was way too warn out

to the tune of time

man I blazed it out

Playing the tunes that we would all dance to

The time honoured rhythms that our parents moved to

The sound of a world so far away

The language was hard but we had much to say

I couldn’t say
So I just let the trumpet play

it spoke of peace, and freedom

His business suite told of freedom long gone

His briefcase said Ill do whatever it takes

And his wallet says I carefully calculate

Every move I make

And even thought he was late

He slowly said I work a job I hate,

And this business man he said I’ve made too many mistakes

But trumpet kept on playing a sound

That said you can still be that man,

And that dream you once had but put away for the plans

Well my man maybe now’s the time

All of a sudden there back in that same old room

6 x 8 doorstep covers in shoes

Nobody can move

Too many bodies to move

They all stare at the music man they eyes glued

As he reached down to his warn out black bag

A boy shout

"Is that it?”, but he just laugh’s

In flash man just pulls it out

That beaten broken warn out trumpet

One that’s seen forever and came back just to re work it

Next to him,

his friend he met in the west

But this time he’s not wearing his business best

Torn jeans and a shirt open over a vest

And those shoulders that held up a world of stress

Now hold the frame of a man that’s blessed

Out the bag he picks up an 18 year old clarinet

And the pair prepare for the world’s greatest duet

Their eyes catch for moment how could they forget

transported to the corner on which they first met

A pavement that so many miles from here

Business man’s eyes fill with a heartfelt tear

Coz

Thing, they aren’t the same round here

Yet people smile as the sun goes down round here

The room erupts in anticipation clear

And music man says.

Ok

Listen here.............