why do we choose less than Promise?


Why do I choose eyes half shut and feel surprised when things seem grey and I have no vision?

Why do I choose heart half closed and wonder why I can’t love; why my words tear down more than build up?

Why do I choose hands half clenched and feel surprised when they are empty at day’s end?

Why do I choose seconds upon minutes upon hours of procrastination and wonder why my roots are so covered in sediment that Light can’t nourish them anymore. Then blame you for my brown-edged blossom. Though really I know I blame myself. Shame seals the sediment, and I accept the half-life. Continue reading


I arrived to find files on my desk which used to be K’s, because she left yesterday. It was sad, but punctuated the end of a long, drawn out battle which neither side wanted to fight anymore. Peace seemed to have returned.

I looked at the scrap of paper attached to these files though – ‘this is a bit of a mess’…’Not sure what’s gone on here, you may need to abort and start again’… Continue reading

a third heaven

How You let your side be ripped open that our lives need never be split into sacred and secular.

How you were slashed that our lives could be seamless — all holy.


I see you.

Your curve of your mouth, the light in your eyes – and the grey

The restlessness of your feet

The ache of longing in your heart rendered by

That place where joy unspeakable meets not yet. Already.

But not yet.

Taste! And see that I am good.

Touch this here, taste this sweet honey, listen to my voice – weighed deep and still.

Count each blessing, inscribe on your heart and with each carve the yawning gap of not yet is imbued with the hue of the already. There is a now to this moment. Touch it! Taste!

And watch as I breathe on your eyes and cobwebs fall. I will show you a third heaven and you will know it is Me.

I will put a new song in your mouth – ‘Come and see!’, and they will come for it is I, and I, and I and I simply am.

But stay a while. For this place is just for you and I too. So stay a while.

I see your smile, your restless feet, your aching heart. Don’ think it escaped my n0tice – I will tell you in a crowded room through the touch of a hand unfamiliar.

And here is enough. Take this with you, friend.

broken bodies, resurrected buildings: beauty of a day unplanned

‘Our photographs capture the spirit of the in-between of the place as it rests between stages, neglected and keeping its secrets’

We find you under a bridge. ‘Amazon’ – utterly vulnerable despite your best efforts. Your discomfort with your vulnerability clashed hard with your desire to expose it. The exposure at once celebrated its perfect beauty and the the strength of your heart. The light bounces off the strongest ridge – that curved upside down V between your ribcage. Womanhood. It was irresistible and made me ache for you. Continue reading

a holy kiss


Eyes cast down, heart-weary. Then – eyes lifted and heartbeat quicks

Red. The shame, the passion, the fire, the hate, the love all surface

To collide in this space.

It spills obscene, nothing untouched and eyes are burning, and can I turn from this?

Outrageous grace. Sky-fire to refine the day. I see it now, the Lord’s handcrafted gold for my delight.

Had you forgotten?

This is amazing grace. Blood poured out. Covers all, in all, through all – obscenely spilled.

Eyes cast down again. Now eyes open to blood on my hands – stained at birth. Rusty iron nails clenched within, fingers which bleed from the thorns woven into a crown.

Where to turn from this?

Eyes lift again. Blood red spills, covers all. Hands lift skywards and blood meets blood. The burning kiss of grace.

Hands are cleansed and all is whiter than snow.

Outrageous, inconvenient, redemptive beauty reminds that this is enough. It is finished.