Take Off My Shoes

This is one of my favourite Delirious songs.

I’ll take off my shoes, I’m coming in

Untie this rope, I’m staying with him
Love of my life, I’ll live and die
Just for the moments for my king and I
Why did you call, why did you wait
For someone so guilty, someone so fake
There are no words for my beautiful song
Now I’m in the arms of my beautiful one
Hold me, blow all the pride from my bones
with your fire
Hold me, breathe on this heart made of stone
make it pure
Hold me, saviour of heaven and earth
king forever
Hold me, love of my life lead me on
through the fire
lead me on
I’ll take off this crown, and fall at your feet
The secret of joy are the moments we meet
How could a man with all of your fame
Pull me from darkness and call me by name
So hold me today, as I carry your cross
Into the desert to find who is lost
Look at my hands, they’re still full of faith
God keep them clean till we finish the race
Hold me, blow all the pride from my bones
with your fire
Hold me, breath on this heart made of stone
make it pure
Hold me, saviour of heaven and earth
king forever
Hold me, love of my life lead me on
through your fire
lead me on…
I hear you singing, I hear you singing
Stand up and be strong
You gotta finish, finish
We’ve gotta finish, finish
I love you
I’ll take off this crown and fall at your feet
So hold me
~Delirious (Mission Bell, 2005)

to dance

I want to dance
To leap gracefully, always poised
To fall elegantly into the energy of the earth
And rise on strong arches
To enter the exquisite motion of music
With a silent harmony, grace notes flexing and pointing
I desire the timeless rhythm
To feel it in my clumsy feet
Until my toes can touch the sky
There is a song that I know
But it cannot be sung
I must search it out with tendons
Give it voice with the pounding blood of throbbing feet
Till they are beautiful on the mountains


triune prayer

Surround me today holy Trinity. Let me stand within thy threeness, let me stand upon thy oneness. I need thy strength and purity. Surround me with thy will till I know not my own. Let all I do flow as from the heart of thy being. Let thy mystery illuminate my passion and infuse my hands in thy service. Holy Trinity be thou my life and my living.


The Roof

Dad said we weren’t allowed to go on the roof, and Mom agreed. But the old woodpile next to the garage was the perfect stairway to heaven. So we waited till it was dark, when we could see into the house but they couldn’t see out, and we climbed Jacob’s ladder, angels in snowsuits.

We crawled up through the snow, under the spruce branches, noiselessly, till we reached the peak. There we lay, cold and still, with a singular purpose – to watch the northern lights.

It seems they were always out the most when the mercury was at the least, but we didn’t care. Shivers are a small price to pay to sit at heaven’s threshold.

They say if you whistle loud enough, the lights will come down and carry you away into the black night. The elders say not to whistle, but maybe their bones are too crackly for the journey. We whistled as loud as we could. We were young, and foolish, and not supposed to be on the roof, but we knew there was something up there, something beyond, and we wanted to go.

I thought if I could breathe deep enough, I would inhale the magnetic fire, and be drawn up to piercing brilliance with the exhale. My heart was pierced, but my feet stayed on the roof.

The next day, Dad looked out the window and saw our clumsy path. He smiled and said nothing.

Lent reflections

Lent was never part of my religious tradition growing up. It was one of those “Catholic” things that involved eating fish on Fridays and praying with beads and things like that – highly suspicious to a Protestant. I think I first “discovered” it in my third year of college, when we had a class on the festivals and seasons of the Church’s year. I was fascinated to learn of this great Church tradition that has been practiced across time and continents, and decided to give up chocolate! I haven’t observed it every year since then, but I am always aware of those little words that pop up in my agenda or on a calendar: Ash Wednesday. Being part of an Anglican seminary the last 2 years has also raised my awareness of the season.

It’s not just about giving something up. It’s not about a yearly weeding out of unhealthy practices, like fated new years resolutions. It’s not about works righteousness and it’s not about making myself feel any better or worse about myself.

I’m no expert, and I haven’t done any research into the season, but this is what I’ve felt out from those around me and experienced myself:

It’s about orienting myself to a bigger story, to its rhythms of denial and fulfillment, death and resurrection, of fasting and celebration. It’s about placing myself on the way of Christ, and embracing the call to pick up my cross. It’s about reminding myself of the constant necessity to place my sins, my habits, my unexamined life, my desires and my time before a holy merciful God. It’s about joining with a community who are trying to walk with each other on this often-difficult way, confessing our sins together, jumping into the gospel story in the days leading up to Christ’s passion and asking Him to form us through His footsteps.

This year I’m fasting from television. It’s not a great vice of mine in particular, but I’ve felt it eating away at my time and mental energy, and it has all but replaced dinners together at the table. Since I’ve decided to give it up, I’m amazed and amused at how many times a day I have the impulse of turning it on – at a lull in my activity, when I’m bored or tired, when I’m procrastinating, when I’m just being thoughtless. It’s a good exercise. Days seem longer – who wouldn’t want more time in their day? – more reading and dish washing get done! I think the greatest change I’ve noticed so far is not only the diminished noise level in my house, but that my inner life is quieter. TV is another voice in my life that sometimes just needs to shut up. I haven’t come upon any great spiritual revelations in its absence, but I pray the silence is an open door for God to speak more clearly.