creativity · Poem · Prayer · Thoughts


I’ve been thinking about Isaiah 62 this week. So I rewrote the prayer to be used kin the town/area I live. It is a poem but to condense the size I have written it in prose. Let me know what you think. 

Because I love this place, this space, I will not be motionless, emotionless. My very being cries out for this place. I will speak out, I will sing out, I will move in, breathe in. I will hold her in my very conversations, in all my communications, until she is known for her wondrous ways for bringing you glory, honor and praise. The nations will wonder and copy her demeanour, the world from her will follow your ways. She will be your child. Helps in he depth of your heart, precious and true, known just for glorifying you. Never again will she be known as the backwater or the godless, the hopeless, the lifeless or the waste. She will be known as your land, your hand, hallowed ground. You will walk amongst us, we will know your light. All will gather, all will know, all will rejoice. They will rejoice in you, for you, with you.

Here in this place, I have posted watchmen on your walls, in the pub, the clubs, the howling green. I have posted watchmen in the cornershop, the  WI, the local school. I have posted watchmen in the cinema, the leisure centre and the cafe. They are there in the supermarket, the hospitals, the taxi’s the gyms. They are there on your streets, they are neighbours and strangers and friends. Watchmen posted on every street corner. And they have a secret. The worst kept secret, they will not keep silent, they will not stop, they will not tire, they will not be worn down and they will not cease. They will pray as if time has no meaning. They are constantly at the feet of Christ, at the foot of the cross, crying out to the King for his mercy, his help, his work. It is his promise, the covenant, his oath not to leave us, to care and love us. 

Let us therefore not stay shut-up. let us not stay secret. Let us open our doors, and prepare pur streets, put up the banners, the flags, prepare the PA and dust of our glad rags. Practice our dance moves and our choruses, tune up, brush down. Prepare. Prepare. Prepare. Declare the glory of the King’s party, the feast, the disco, the rave, the communion. Declare. Declare. Declare. Share the invitation. The message from him to this land. It is coming. The time of his children, the time of his people, a time of revelation  and a time of revelling. . We will be called your people, those that live by your light, ones that know your glory. 


Christian Spirituality · creativity · Poem · Thoughts

At the foot of the cross: piece of creative writing

It’s been a while since I’ve written, I have no reason or excuse. However, tonight whilst in worship with some young people I felt a little inspire, so I leave you with an ounce of creative writing.

At the foot of the cross

At the foot of the cross,

I’m here once again. 

Broken, here I stand. 

I’m worn out and tired,

But here I stand.

I see your pain flowing down

Not a tear for yourself

Or the blood that you shed. 

You weep alone for me.

My strength fails at your compassion 

And I’m on my knees 

And I freeze.

A hand on my shoulder 

And I’m not alone

A warmth spreads through my bones.

I know that I am loved

And i curl up forgetting all my needs. 

I cry, I sob, I weep.

Emotion escapes

But you keep me here in place, 

In this space. 

I know now it’s no longer a race.

It’s more than a fast living pace.

You cradle me at the foot of the cross. 

Not a place of loss, a place for the lost, 

But at the greatest cost.

So I can sit still in the precious stillness

I dont have to speak of concerns or commitments

I dont have to come with complaint or praise. 

I come and sit in the stillness of your grace.

At the foot of the cross

Through my tears of brokenness,

A smile breaks across my face.

I’m not alone

I’m not so broken 

I’m being reworked not at the greatest loss 

But at the greatest cost.

 I’m here at the foot of the cross

Once again.

Held in your arms I’m priceless.

Held in your arms I’m known.

Held in your arms I’m loved.

Held in your arms I am grown. 

I’m here at the foot of the cross

And I’ve spent my time 

Here in the beauty of your presence. 

You’ve changed my heart from the inside out. 

You wipe my final tears away, 

Draw me closer

And whisper sweetly in my ear

You say 

‘Precious child, you are dear’

‘Stand up, take heart, lay down your load’

‘Pick up my cross and my royal purple robes’

‘This is your path, it’s built for me and you’

‘Stand up, take heart, I am with you’

I’m here at the foot of the cross.

I’m moved off of my knees

I’ve here at the foot of the cross 

And I’m standing 

Reaching out for the hand.

Sharing the burden of the cross

No the burden of the cross is lost

It’s his power upon my shoulders 

Each step along this path I grow bolder 

Untill the next time I find myself there

At the foot of the cross.