Lyrics On Friday

When you’re dreaming with a broken heart
The waking up is the hardest part
You roll outta bed and down on your knees
And for a moment you can hardly breathe
Wondering was she really here?
Is she standing in my room?
No she’s not, ’cause she’s gone, gone, gone, gone, gone….

When you’re dreaming with a broken heart
The giving up is the hardest part
She takes you in with her crying eyes
Then all at once you have to say goodbye
Wondering could you stay my love?
Will you wake up by my side?
No she can’t, ’cause she’s gone, gone, gone, gone, gone….

Now do i have to fall asleep with roses in my hands
Do i have to fall asleep with roses in my hands?
Do i have to fall asleep with roses in my hands?
Do i have to fall asleep with roses in my , roses in my hands?

Would you get them if i did?
No you won’t, ’cause you’re gone, gone, gone, gone, gone….

When you’re dreaming with a broken heart
The waking up is the hardest part

[Dreaming With A Broken Heart – John Mayer]

How about you?

We Wept

Many of you know that I unexpectedly ended up back in Northern Ireland last weekend. One of my closest friends, Jill, lost her dad to pancreatic cancer. I can’t even imagine how painful it’s been for her. I’m glad I was able to go back and be there for the funeral, to sit shiva with her. It was heartbreaking, yet I know her dad would have been so proud of her. I’m blown away by her strength & her humility.

Jill & I have an odd history; we took a long time to meet each other! We lived in the same area, we went to the same school, we both lead our school CU, we have a large overlapping friendship group… but God chose to wait, and took us to Latvia to meet each other. A few years ago I co-lead an Exodus team to Latvia from Glasgow, and Jill co-lead one from Ballymena. We met for the first time in Belfast, getting on a bus to Dublin airport. Those first few days in Latvia we wrestled with knowing how best to lead our teams and support our leaders. We almost didn’t really hang out that much at the start, as we focused on our respective tasks.


Each evening in Zosna, we’d sit around a camp fire with the kids and talk about life, talk about Jesus. One evening, we didn’t stay. I can’t say why for sure, but as the dusk gave way to night we went for a stroll. As we meandered along the lakeshore, we poured our hearts out to each other. It was as if someone had pulled the stopper out, and there was no putting it back in. We barely knew each other, and yet there was a safety in the others presence that I have rarely felt, before or since. We began to share our stories, warts and all.

As the sun set, we wept in each others arms.
We wept for the pain.
We wept for the things we have lost.
We wept for the difficult choices we would have to make in coming days.
We wept for the kids in Zosna.
We wept for the kids who grew up never knowing they were loved.
We wept for ourselves.

And in that moment, there was a healing.

Or rather, there were the beginnings of a healing.
These scars, they don’t heal fast. Life hasn’t been perfect for either of us. Yet I cannot help but think of the example that I have been shown in Jill.

Our wounds matter.
Jill has helped to teach me that.
That our lives have meaning, and purpose.

And that the weeping is important.

Blog Tidy-Up

You might notice things look a little different on here – if your using RSS, stop by the blog & check it out…

I’ve put up a new header, felt the old one was looking a little too Christmas-ey. The words on the header have changed too. They are an extract from a piece one my friends wrote a while ago that I love…

I show you my scribble plans
The ink on my hands
Hold it up for you to see, struggle and the charm
(What do you want me to be?)

I’ve also updated the links a bit. Joshua and Carlos are both taking an indefinite break from blogging, so I’ve taken them off the list for now. I’ve added Andru, an immense photographer from NI, and Matt, my supervisor at work who is also involved in masterminding Centrelight (more about that later!).

So what d’ya think, like the new header?

Cultural Memory

While driving back from Nairn last week, Matt & I got into discussions on things like church, tradition, change, and musical worship, among many other things! I made a comment that I’ve been thinking about ever since, and wanted to hear your take on it too. I want to preface it with a small caveat, in the interests of honesty: I’m pretty sure I’ve stolen the idea from someone else, but for the life of me I cannot figure out who!

I shared that I wondered how much of our preferences or distastes for a particular style of corporate worship music are influenced by cultural memory (the term I fear I’ve stolen) more than by the music itself. By cultural memory, I am referring to the almost hard-wired associations we have between things. In part this thought was sparked by the realisation that I enjoy some of the old hymns a lot more when they are set to a different style of music, such as when I first heard the Hymns Ancient & Modern album by the Passion band.

As part of the younger generation, certainly my own cultural memory of organ music is that of stuffy church services I couldn’t wait to escape. For an older generation, their collective cultural memory of guitars and drums is one of sex, drugs, and rock’n’roll. I wonder how my granny would react if we arranged some Chris Tomlin for the organ? Would it be a doorway to open up some wonderful modern hymns for an older generation, in the same way that arranging hymns such as Come Thou Fount for guitars has been for me?

So, what d’ya think? Crazy idea? Anyone tried anything like this?