PEACE

Peace
What is it ?
When men agree to disagree
To stop the fight
Burying the hatchet
And an Armalite

Peace
What is it ?
To walk the streets without constraint
But not without worry
To leave all our suspicions
To a judge and jury

Peace
What is it ?
When brothers decide to forgive
But not forget
When neighbours look but never speak
Across the fence

Peace
What is it ?
A set of rules and boundaries
That let us live
Or a changing of the heart


Which Jesus gives

THE REAL THING

An hour with my least favourite auntie
A meal in the worst restaurant
A holiday with those I avoid
Teaching a class of delinquents
Making a real bad investment
Finding myself in the red
Paying a dental repair bill
Losing my credit cards
Having a serious illness
Confined to a hospital bed
Losing a real close relation
Burying a very good friend
Ditched by the girl I had dreamed of
And discover her dating my mate
Winning a million pound jackpot
And waking up in a cold sweat
Dancing aboard the Titanic
Or trapped by a large forest fire
Caught in the world's biggest earthquake
Or slipping from off the Sears Tower
Life in Viet Nam in the Sixties
A soldier who fought at the Somme
An innocent victim in Ulster
A Jew in a German war camp
A shark fin emerging beside me
A snake at the foot of my sheets
A black widow under my pillow
A lion I'd rather not meet
Just think of your very worst problem
All these could be hell on earth
But no matter what happens , remember

The real thing's a million times worse

STREET COLLECTORS

Standing on the corner of town
Shaking their money boxes up and down
Trying to catch the slightest glance
And an opportunity to pounce
To give a coloured sticker treat
Or pin a little flag motif
They always know my favourite store
And take up residence beside the door
To give me that disdainful stare
When I pretend that they're not there
Or when I say I have no money
They seem to think it rather funny
That I should reach a shopping zone
And leave my finance all at home
One sticker is a saving grace
When several collecting groups invade
I greet each with a knowing smile
And hand in pocket,pass on by
So some advice,you might take note
Keep that old sticker on your coat
And then in town you'll fear no more

That dreaded figure at your store

GRAVEYARDS

Graveyards are interesting places
Written in stone
Are the names of those
Who didn't die in
Chronological order
Some tragic
Some natural
All planned
At exactly the right moment
A vivid picture
Of incomplete family trees
To be added to
Against our will
And a backdrop of sackcloth
And fresh smelling flowers
Buried deep in the ground
Are a million thoughts and unfulfilled dreams
That no one will ever know

Until the time is right

ASPIRATIONS

Two inches taller
Two sizes smaller
Brown eyes , not blue
And sallow skin too
Hair on my head
And not on my bed
A voice so sweet
And Pele's feet
An artist's hand
And a prince's land
A single mood
A desire to be good
Einstein's brain
The Beatles' fame
A private jet
Not a single debt

I may wish and want
But what I need
He has supplied
And more indeed
And if I was some other man
I couldn't doThe job he's planned

HOME

Home is a two storey terrace
A mansion on an estate
A township in Soweto
A palace in Kuwait
A clearing in the Amazon jungle
A shanty in Hong Kong
A tent on a reservation
A high rise in New York
A space in cardboard city
A yacht in the south of France
A villa in Lanzarote
A rectory or a manse
A mud hut in the Andes
A barge in Amsterdam
An Australian outback sheep ranch
A converted bus or van
Home is what you make it
With friends or all alone
The places we just visit
Are someone else's home
Home is not for ever
Another passing stage
A better home is waiting

On a more eternal plane

NEIGHBOURS

Who is my neighbour ?
My mother and dad
My brothers and sisters
Or uncles and aunts
My far flung relations
At home and abroad
These are my neighbours
My kindred and blood

Who is my neighbour ?
The man down the road
The girl at the checkout
Or the guy with the Post
The reckless bad driver
The tramp in the street
These are my neighbours
The people I meet

Who is my neighbour ?
The German , the Turk
The peoples of language
And culture diverse
The loved and the hated
The well and diseased
That is my neighbour
The one who's in need

OFFERING

The choir had just begun to sing
When I was overcome with fear
The offering envelope I had brought
Had mysteriously disappeared

I hunted jacket inside out
And trouser pockets too
I even held my nose and checked
Inside my slip-on shoe

And as collector closer came
The sweat ran down my side
Imagine the indignity
Of waving him on by

I'd be the talk of all the church
And laughing stock there too
Unless some grand excuse I'd find
To rise and leave my pew

But time passed quicker than my brain
The offering plate arrived
And then the envelope appeared
Before disbelieving eyes

I turned around with some relief
She'd had it all the while
I whispered 'Thank-you' to my wife
And she gave me a knowing smile

COUNTDOWN

Twelve disciples
Eleven good
Ten lepers
Nine rude
Eight sailing in Gopher wood
Seven days
Six used
Five smooth stones from the brook
Four Gospels
Three days
Two roads
One way

READ AND PRAY

Now I lay me down to sleep
Thank You for the food we eat
These two prayers I use each day
How can you say that I don't pray
And every Sunday from the pew
The Lord's Prayer I repeat right through

For God so loved the world , I know
Is from the New and not the Old
Abram nearly killed his son
At Jericho the walls fell down
And the birth of Jesus is quite nice
I read that every Christmas time

I know you think that I'm all wrong
Your eyes are sad and your face is long
Because my prayers are only three
And the Bible's not so clear to me
But before you start to criticise
Remember that I'm only five

GOD'S NOT DEAD

God's not dead
Just badly hurt
By all the rumours going round
That say He's finished
Soon demised
It would make anybody frown

God's not dead
Just badly hurt
By all the friends He thought He had
Who all agreed
When persecuted
It was just a passing fad

God's not dead
Just badly hurt
That we should treat His son the same
When time has passed
And wounds have healed
We'll probably do the same again

God's not dead
Just badly hurt
But no victory comes without a price
I'd rather be wounded and winning
Than making the ultimate sacrifice

THE HEART

Who lives in a heart like this
The door is open wide
The outward signs are promising
But let's take a look inside

The person who lives here would seem
To know just what he's after
No scripture texts upon the walls
And thoughts of God bring laughter

No Bible by the bedside lamp
Replaced by Sunday papers
The silver ashtray overflows
With nicotine remainders

The guest rooms are all occupied
By envy , greed and lying
But the greatest clue to who lives here
The owner's slowly dying

So there you have the evidence
But before you make decisions
Remember , Satan doesn't have to stay
He only rents accommodation

BAPTISM

Fear of the unknown is a terrible thing
That's why baptisms fill me with worry
One minute he's fast asleep in your arms
The next , he's screeching like a canary

You nervously smile and somebody smiles back
As the redness descends to your navel
And you wish you were somewhere else , not here
When he tugs at the minister's Bible

It would all have been fine but the relatives came
And took all the available seating
And if Junior is bad , I've some unmarried aunts
Who'll remind me about it all evening

I remember last time , everything's going fine
'Till the vicar decides to show 'handsome'
So off down the aisle he parades with a smile
And not even a note for the ransom

The Lord bless thee and keep thee , what a wonderful sound
The whole service had such a good spirit
Just a pity we had to give him four names
To please both sets of grandparents

MISSION

Let's have a mission
Maybe the week after next
We can print leaflets in pastel colours
And insert a well known text

I know a speaker
I'm sure he'd draw a crowd
We can line up some mouth-watering testimonies
And soloists who aren't too loud

There are plenty of Christians
Who'd love to come along all week
And if anyone else decides to appear
I'm sure we can find a few more seats

Let's have a mission
It's been far too long since the last
There's nothing like a good heart warming sermon
To make the winter evenings pass

HARVEST

We ploughed the fields again tonight
Then scattered to our homes
The ladies donned their new delights
For the annual fashion show

The choir had made some signings
To swell their anthem praise
On loan from other churches
Or returned from bygone days

The church was overflowing
With long forgotten faces
And others who would just attend
On special church occasions

And uncles,aunts and nephews
The family dog as well
And new found mates of either sex
Were gracefully revealed

The rich fool lost again this year
You'd think he'd get the message
There's no one like that sitting here
His loss is our advantage

The mustard seed grows more and more
The vineyard still needs workers
And there we sit and see the Word
More suited to our neighbour

We ploughed the fields again tonight
And filled our brains with plenty
The offering plates were overflowed

But many hearts left empty

STICKY SWEET PAPER

I'd heard it once the prayer before
It nudged my concentrating
But now the fistle just in front
Was mildly irritating

It seemed the last attempt had failed
Through lack of careful planning
And now this new assault must be
Successful but demanding

An air of confidence appeared
Mid coughs and blowing noses
The volume rose as prayers were spoke
With silence in the pauses

'Till finally the job was done
"Amen" we all recited
But sweet and paper were firm friends
They would not be disunited

That final tug was all in vain
The job must start anew
The boiled sweet lay in tatters
Beneath the wooden pew

The moral of this story is
Be silent when you pray
For I know how our victim felt
It was me last Sabbath Day

EMPTY

An empty garden
Where I should have been
But my arrival delayed
By another man’s sin

And empty throne
Where a Son should have reigned
But events in the garden
Needed someone to blame

An empty manger
Where perfection was born
But a mother would ponder
The day she would mourn

And empty garden
Where the praying was done
But a show of affection
Meant darkness had come

An empty field
Where a seed could have grown
But the price that was paid
Was the cost of a Son

An empty cross
Where He knew separation
But three simple words
Turned my sin to salvation

An empty tomb
Where there should have been grieving
But the folded remains
Held the promise of leaving

An empty heart
Where the fire was so precious
But the words that we speak now
Lie buried in ashes

An empty soul
Where the walls are unguarded
But the story of Easter
Is always discarded

An empty sky
Where the throne was ascended
But the promised return
Means the story’s not ended

CHOIR

Robes cover a multitude of sins
But we know what they're hiding
And God reaches the parts that
Ordinary mortals have given up finding
And there they perch like hungry vultures
Waiting for their moment , to rise
And attack the hymn with gusto
Or their captive audience
With those prying eyes
I wonder how they qualified to take
Such elevated status
A singing test , ancestral rites
Or gate crashed without invitation
Yet there they stand and not all blessed
With vocal chords of gold
But duty to the cause remains
For the face behind the robe

FUNERAL

A real good friend was buried today
Near the church at the top of the hill
And the tears of his closest family
Mingled with those whom he knew well
The minister offered his sympathy
Speaking well of the recent deceased
Its not always so easy to know what to say
For the mourners know what they believe
So strange when you die
Everybody's your friend
Plans are altered to see your last day
But the talk is of farming or business or sport
As the cortege rolls slowly away
And black is the colour and sad are the tunes
And deep are the voices who sing
For some , the beginning
For others , the end
Who are happy with three score and ten

CHILDREN'S CHURCH

Where do they go every Sunday
Just after the choir sing
And the organist plays on half-expectedly
Keeping one eye on the congregation
We tell them not to talk to strangers
But happily let them go with someone
They hardly ever see.
He looks a bit old for Children's Church
That man with the red complexion
Dragging a small dissenter along the aisle
Embarrassed by his partner's lack of attention.
He won't return - he'll sit it out
Having weighed up the lesser of two evils
Missing the sermon because duty calls
And the wife needs a well earned break.
I know where I'd like to go next Sunday
If I can latch on to a child
For just a few minutes
I'm as young as I feel but too old
To join the mass exodus on my own

THE BACK SEAT

You must be early to get the back seat
To beat off competition
Where one can hide from pulpit view
And scan the congregation

To be the last you must be first
Or make a reservation
It matters not that you can't see
Or hear the preacher's sermon

Today I came especially prompt
To be one of these mortals
But not a rear seat space remained
Within the building's portals

I'd like to ask them when they came
My guess is Saturday night
But when the Benediction ends
They're up and out of sight

FEELINGS

So how would you have felt
If a man , old enough to know better
Began to build a boat while warning
That it would get wetter and wetter
When it took a forest of wood
Made up of Gopher trees
Enough to fill a furniture store
Or make several small libraries
When he called again and again
For everyone to change their ways
Or preach about a coming flood
On the sunniest of days
But on and on he persevered
Undaunted by the task begun
And never stopping to consider
That the nearest sea was miles from home
When he gathered up his family
And every animal he could find
And shut the door behind them all
Everyone laughed until they cried
Because soon a tiny drop descended
From a small cloud in the sky
To dampen a small piece of Gopher wood
And the spirits of those outside
Who couldn't quite believe their eyes
That what he said had come to pass
And when that tiny drop became a shower
Their hearts were sinking fast
In a flood of selfish hopefulness
That it would never be too late
To take the moral higher ground
And so escape their fate
So how would you have felt
To view a rainbow for the first time
To see an olive leaf again
And the top of a mountain high
Me , I felt so sorry for those outside
And glad that I'd escaped
To be the first to see the sun again
Yes , being a giraffe is great

SUNDAY

Sunday was a special day
In our house
Roast beef , gravy and veg
After Sunday church
Then a quiet afternoon stroll
Down a country road
Or a comfy little snooze
Listening to Tennessee Ford
A quiet fireside family tea
In the background , Songs of Praise
Soon uncles , aunts and cousins came
And for supper always stayed

Sunday's still a special day
In our home
Bombarded by this crazy age
We hold on
To values taught and handed down
From a parent's knee
Not just about right and wrong
But the way Sunday should be

Sunday's not a special day
In some lives
The church and God are far away
In past times
The trouble is we're easily swayed
To join the crowd
Who think its just another day
Not His now

Sunday's still a special day
In His eyes
He rested when He made the world
And so should I
Not just for doing as I please
But taking time
To think of what He means to me
The True Vine

AFTER

After the flood
The Rainbow
After the fleece
The dew
After the whale
Forgiveness
After the famine
Food
After Goliath
Victory
After the lions
Prayer
After the greatest testing
We know He was always there

MY FRIEND

My friend is a Christian
Though you wouldn't know
From some company he keeps
Or from his favourite jokes

My friend is a Christian
But he isn't quite sure
Just how it all happened
Its a bit of a blur

My friend is a Christian
But I don't quite see
The difference it makes
To his daily routine

My friend is a Christian
In all the right places
But when he's not there
He wears different faces

My friend is a Christian
It seems a good life
He loves God on Sunday
And does what he likes

My friend is a Christian
Of that I am sure
He's learnt Bible verses
And makes lengthy prayers

My friend is a Christian
His Bible is huge
He's there every Sunday
At church in a suit

My friend is a Christian
To doubt is unfair
You see he's the pastor
Of my local church

HARD OR EASY?

It's easy to point a finger
At those who can't control
Their urge to feed a habit
That doesn't fit our mould
It's easy to see the bad side
The pain which others feel
When obsession crosses boundaries
Causing hurts which never heal
It's easy to set the limits
Of what should and shouldn't be
And to cast a scornful glance at those
Who , unlike us , aren't free
It's easy to find an answer
When we are not involved
To patronise and criticise
What someone else must solve
But it's hard to be a listener
And not always give advice
Just to be a ready shoulder
On which to have a cry
And it's hard to go on loving
When love is not returned
When all the efforts that you make
To help , are simply spurned
It's never hard nor easy
To help a shattered life
So ask the Lord for wisdom
And take Him as your guide

HUMILITY

Hidden by a new found confidence
An inflated self belief
Trampled under a rising ego
It lies buried beneath
Covered by the clothes of class consciousness
Designer labels aspire
Imprisoned by diamonds and pearls
Bought out by the wealth we acquire
Believing the things others tell us
Reality fades far behind
The truth is now less important
Than having a self centred mind
It's easy to be absent minded
To forget where we left it alone
Our best friends won't even tell us
We're too proud to admit that we're wrong
It's hard to admit we're not humble
It's hard to be humble too
To live the life of a servant
Breaks all the modern day rules
It needs divine intervention
To strip us down to the core
To take away all of the padding
And return us to what we once were

WORDS

Through the Atonement
We are meant to be
At one with our Maker

Through our Redeemer
We are deemed to be
Reborn in the Saviour

Through His Salvation
We can say Salvete
To the Creator of all nations