Hiding Not the Answer


Firstly, let me say, I never normally post anything other than poetry, and maybe a nature comment

This one is different, because I think this is important

There seem to be so many posts in the following veins

  • All popes post Vatican-II, in fact after Pius XII, are anti-popes
  • Vatican II is a heresy
  • Recieving communion in the hand is disrespectful
  • Hearing Mass in my own language, is heretical
  • Not wearing a smart enough suit sends me to hell
  • All the abuse scandals started after Vatican II

All I am going to say is my responses to these points. I am not discussing it or opening it for discussion.

My position on these statements are as follows

  • No, all popes are selected by men, hopefully with the guidance of the Holy Spirit. Disagreeing with their pronouncements does not mean they’re antipopes.
  • Vatican II is NOT a heresy
  • The method of receiving communion on the hand is not disrespectful. I am in awe when I see the Saviour of the world in my hands, such an intimate, personal encounter is not disrespectful.
  • Having been to Latin Masses where the women are gossiping about their neighbours and rattling their rosaries, whilst the men are discussing which horses to bet on in the next race, I would venture to say that neither of these parties are being even vaguely respectful, or even faintly interested in what is happening at the front of the church. Understanding one word in every fifteen meant I left the church in a total state of confusion and I went to an English Mass as soon as I could. A Mass where I could be involved, feel close to the God who loved me into being, and longs to be in a relationship with his creation, including me. So, no, hearing Mass in my own language is not heretical. Hearing Mass just in Latin reverses Babel, and contradicts the action of the Spirit at Pentecost, letting all mankind hear in their own language
  • Within reason, I can wear what I want in church, ( I draw the line with off-the-shoulder or navel-exposing tops, and short peices of cloth laughingly referred to as skirts or shorts ) . God is looking at my heart, not whether I’m wearing a smart suit, or a nice hat. I could wear both those and have a heart as black as night. Equally, I could wear relatively modern clothing and truly yearn to see God’s face
  • The abuses we see today did not start when Vatican II came along. Pope John XXII, Pope Benedict XI, Pope Alexander VI and Pope Leo X were all corrupt, and came along way before Vatican II was even conceived. Leo X was the reason for the Reformation, selling indulgences when he bankrupted the church. So, no, Vatican II is not the reason for the corruption.

As I said at the beginning, this is not a discussion, it is a statement of what I believe, and has come about because of an increasing frustration with a minority who would love to turn the clock back and have us in the Dark Ages. The Holy Spirit inspired Vatican II, and yes, there might be things that aren’t perfect since it happened, but to think it’s the sole cause of every foul thing known to man is dangerously naive

Silver Moon



How can I
Believe
You have abandoned me
You never have
Before

Why do I
get lost in the shadows
forgetting the sun
when I enter the night
It’s so easy
When the silver
Of the moon
Is the owner of the light

Simple things
Grow daunting
Like the money spider
transforming
Into a tarantula
When the sun goes down

Help me remember
You are ever there
There is nothing
About fear you don’t understand
Nothing
About loneliness
You can’t comprehend

Why
Do I lose heart
When the going gets tough?
Am I like Peter
Jumping out of the boat
Safe looking at you
Yet
When the waves come
Soaking my feet
I fear
I shake
I sink
As he did

Lord
Save me
Tell me
It’s safe now

Safe
To let go
To relinquish control
For the watchman
Is off-duty

Yet for so long
that’s what I was
being strong
for others

Now, being strong
Is too much
Like a battle weary soldier
Too tired to fight on
Yet too restless
To find true peace

Whisper to me
My God
In the still of the night
Put those fears to flight
Teach me
It’s OK
to let go

To surrender
and rest
in your arms

Knowing 
all I have to do
is be content
in you



Untitled – as Yet


I can’t decide what to call this one

Whisper
Take me away
From the day
Full of nothingness
To a place of fullness

Remind me
That I am so much more
Than the sum of my days
Worth more than the turning of the earth
Journeying round the Sun

Whisper
In the gentle breeze
Bid me welcome
In the chuckle of the contented stream
Gurgling merrily
In its journey
To meet the ocean

Call to me
In the cry of the gulls
The chittering of the sparrows
The neighing of the horses
And the call of the sheep to their lambs

Seduce my weary heart
Away from the shallow city
Bid me come away
To you and rest

Welcome me
To the familiar cave
Of the heart
So oft neglected,
Ignored

The wounds are harder to face
Than the pretty baubles
The streetlight sirens
Calling my name

But will I ever be content
In that crazy life?
Or will I lose myself
Wayward
Like the prodigal son?

How long will it be
Before I come to my senses?
And listen to the yearning
To hear your soft, gentle whisper
“I love you”

“Spend time with me
rest and be content
Come home, my child,

Come home”

No Man an Island



The road is long
and I’m not strong
Enough to walk it
Alone

Damn this pride
This pain inside
Makes me whimper
Makes me rage
Yet the stage
Of weeping
Still evades

Is it so much
To ask
That tears are given space
To be?

Am I too proud,
Content to bear wounds
Unneeded, and uncalled for
Too scared
To admit defeat?

Pride is masked
The label of self-sufficiency
Biting into broken skin
Rubbing salt
Into the wound

No man is an island
Yet hard-heartedness
Or fear
Insist that our island
Remains

Break, oh break
Let the rage pour forth
Let the healing begin
And let me let You in

I don’t want
to spend my life
Raging
Wrestling
With fears
And past hurts

Memories haunt me
What if and if only
Dominate a life
Scarred by tragedy

Watching loved ones suffer
Helplessly
Like a captive audience
In a trance, watching a show
No-one wants to see

Take this wounded warrior
Heal shattered memories
Angrily I try
To cope

When will admit
I can’t do it?
Go through it
Without You
Beside me
To guide me
Protect me
Love me
Forgive me

Bid me come to you
let the silence and promise of rest
seduce me
and let me feel peace

Let the anguish cease
The anger subside
Let me hide
and lose myself
In you



Here It Comes Again



That crazy, mixed-up, confused sense of disatisfaction. It comes uninvited, slicing through my self-esteem like a knife through butter. Trying to describe it is like chasing the wind. I hate it, but when it’s there, I do the best writing I’ve ever done

It’s always been here, we circle each other, eyeing ourselves warily, not letting our guard down. It’s part of me, and without it I’m not whole, yet I do not miss it, I welcome its absence whilst acknowledging its presence

If the post doesn’t make sense, neither does this strange yearning that creeps in. The only way to placate it is either writing or sitting in His presence. For I know that is where it comes from, where it is rooted. There are times I just want to be there for ever, I know I can’t stay on the mountain top, yet the valley holds no sway over me

Remind me who I am, Lord. Bid me follow you, to the desert, to the mountain, the quiet place where I reclaim my identity. For this sense is really a search, a longing to know myself and my place, but my place isn’t in this world. It’s with you



Falling Shadows



Shadows are falling
And you are calling
Come now and rest
At the end of the day

As the sun’s brightness
Gives way to moonlight
And weary souls
Wander to rest

I hear you calling
As I am falling
Into the blest
Haven of peace

When my eyes won’t close
Lost in my dreaming
Fretting about the morning
Remind my heartache
Your love is there

Cover my sleep
With your everlasting love
Remind me
Tommorow has not yet arrived

Hold me safely
Keep me close, Lord
When peril knocks
At my door

Rebuke the rage
As you did the waves
Calm the storm
Soothe my angry soul

For I am lost
Deep in distress
Floundering
I call
Save me!

It’s so easy
When the night
Makes trivia
Important

I don’t know
How to express it
Other than to hand it
To you

It makes no sense
Yet even if I don’t understand
This feeling
Yearning
Longing

It seizes my heart
Chains my words
Steals my tongue
For it is deeper
Than words can ever say

You know what I mean
Even if I don’t
I could live a thousand years
Yet never work it out

It’s a mystery
Why I even attempt it
I know I’ll never solve it
Yet false pride
Demands I try

Teach me
That all this raging
Steals my time
And my peace

Come, soothe me
Bid the angry beast sleep
Touch my soul
With gentle fingers
Of rest

Be the saving guest
At table
Sharing bread and wine
For I am your child
And you, Father mine

Love me
For who I am
Weary and broken though I be
All I need is to see

The pierced hands
The wounded side
In your embrace
I will hide

To find

My rest



Falling Arms



Stretch forth those pierced hands
To grasp my own
For I am lost
So alone
Without the touch
Of the sacred

Grasping
For the divine
My hands fall
Empty

Tired,
I let them fall
Surrender
Defeated
By my own hubris

Yet
I hear you call
Echoing deep
In my soul

The cavern
Where I dwell
Safe
From the judgement
Of an angry, shattered world

You bid me follow
The hollow
World holds no attraction
To me

All I want
Is to be here
With you
Where I come from
And where
One day
At the close of my eyes
I will return

Speak to me
In the pattering rain
The joy of the chattering sparrow
The dance of the curling breeze
Blowing papers down an empty street

Remind me
I am more
Than the sum of my days

My heart
Belongs to the divine
For I am divine breath
In human form
Love, walking on this earth

So often, I hide
Afraid
Alone
My light
Hidden

When I want to run
Bid me run to you
When I want to hide
Let me do so in your embrace
Shelter under your wing
And find rest

I know I still
Have to journey through this world
But remind me
That I can come
And rest
In You



Whisper in the Silence



When my head has had its say
When my heart has lost its way
When all is done, at end of day
You whisper in the silence

When the battle has been lost
And my heart had to count the cost
Of the love I thought I’d lost
You whisper in the silence

When I feel the sense of peace
That slowing down can release
And notice the anguish cease
Then you whisper in the silence

Teach me, Lord, not to shout
Not to rage, or storm, or pout
When my strength has all run out
Whisper Lord, in my silence

Remind me I am in your care
And you will always find me where
The sunlight meets the sea
And where you, Lord, find me
As you whisper my Name
Of the ending of my shame
Welcoming me home again
In the silence



A Modern Prodigal – Dare I Hope?



The road is long
And I’m so weary
I Long for home
And the love left behind

Can I dare hope
That I will be heard
My heart is spent
I must repent
And come to rest

Could I dare He could forgive
And once more I could live
For existing is all I do
Without my God
My life means nothing

Yet broken, torn
I’m straining to see
Those open arms
Ever stretched wide
Reaching out
For me

Could I dare
How could I return?
When all my sins
Burn scarlet
In front of my eyes

I am so lost
I have nothing left to prove
Nothing left to prove
But a stubborn heart
And a foolish heart

For alone I fear the night
That stalks my dreams
Sometimes it seems
The dawn will never come

So, yes, I will go
Return once more
To the arms of my Father
Repenting my stubborn heart
And my foolish pride

For no matter what I do
Or how I fall
He is my all-in-all
For He is love
And love is all
His children
Need