Movers and shakers

The movers, the shakers,

the people of peace, 

Where are they Lord 

and who do they seek? 

The poets, the artists, 

the creatives who see,

What do they notice

and do they see me?

The streetwise, the hive minds,

The melody makers, 

Why do they stand by

And watch all these fakers?

The vloggers, and bloggers,

The tweeters, and bleaters,

Who are these people 

And why all the cries?

The meek, and the lonely,

The downtrodden wives, 

The humble, the thirsty,

The victims of lies. 

These are the voiceless, 

The broken, the lost,

Who will suport them 

And what will that cost? 

©️Revdjo 25/3/2021 

Photo every day through Lent 2016 - voice

1“Very truly I tell you Pharisees, anyone who does not enter the sheep pen by the gate, but climbs in by some other way, is a thief and a robber. 2 The one who enters by the gate is the shepherd of the sheep.3 The gatekeeper opens the gate for him, and the sheep listen to his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. 4 When he has brought out all his own, he goes on ahead of them, and his sheep follow him because they know his voice. 5 But they will never follow a stranger; in fact, they will run away from him because they do not recognize a stranger’s voice.” 

Lent 2014 - 12th April: finding voice

Today's simple pleasure is that of 'finding voice'. Maybe finding our own voice isn't that simple? I think it takes time to find out who you are enough to voice your thoughts and feeling but it shouldn't. It seems we are brought up to conform and do as everyone else does. We are taught to sit quietly with the rest of the class and to learn from the teacher at the front. If we speak out we are told off and learn not to do so. Learning to behave is good but what if that learning to behave means that we loose our uniqueness in the process? I don't really have all the answers and this ramble is, as always, me speaking and thinking out loud. Blogging for me is the simple pleasure in which I am learning to find my own voice. 

Finding voice comes in many forms of self expression. It could be art, or drama, or preaching, or singing, or simply speaking up for ourselves. Finding voice is as much about speaking out for others as it is for speaking out for ourselves. I think most people find the former easier, I know I do. Standing up and speaking out  in whatever form takes courage. It should be much simpler but society, learnt behaviour, and childhood hang-ups get in the way. 

Tonight I watched Britain's Got Tallent (yes it's back). There was a young lady performing who had fought through the pain of being bullied and found helself through singing, in this case Opera. She had a magical voice which projected the emotion of what she was singing. She had found her voice and it was a lovely thing to watch as well as hear.

Finding voice is a simple pleasure but we need to step out in faith, take one step at a time, and get beyond the pain barrier to find it. Have you found your voice yet? I encourage you to do so and promise that it will eventually bring you a simple pleasure.

Streams of Living Water part 2

The words of the following hymn have been with me all week:

O Lord my God, When I in awesome wonder,
Consider all the worlds Thy Hands have made;
I see the stars, I hear the rolling thunder,
Thy power throughout the universe displayed.
Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art.
Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art!
When through the woods, and forest glades I wander,
And hear the birds sing sweetly in the trees.
When I look down, from lofty mountain grandeur
And see the brook, and feel the gentle breeze.
Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art.
Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art!
And when I think, that God, His Son not sparing;
Sent Him to die, I scarce can take it in;
That on the Cross, my burden gladly bearing,
He bled and died to take away my sin.
Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art.
Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art!

When Christ shall come, with shout of acclamation,
And take me home, what joy shall fill my heart.
Then I shall bow, in humble adoration,
And then proclaim: "My God, how great Thou art!"

Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art.
Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art!

On Tuesday I conducted the funeral of Joyce McDonald who finally went home to be with her heavenly Father. We sang this hymn at the beginning of the service. At church on Sunday I found myself singing the hymn again. The words continue to resound, in particular the second verse. Saturday night I could not sleep, I was also a little hot so I opened the window. There was a small brook outside that had swollen because of the amount of rain we have been having recently. It was raining and I could hear the rain hitting the brook and the brook flowing faster than normal. It was a reassuring sound and something else to listen to other than my husbands snoring. I felt God say to me, 'focus on the brook, focus on me'. It is easy to loose sight of God and to stop listening to his voice. It is easy to be distracted from our faith. 

Is it time for you to listen to the brook and to feel God's Holy Spirit again in the gentle breeze? 

We have an awesome God.

 

In the cool night breeze

Your voice echoes in the cool night breeze, gently guiding, enveloping me.
I hear you in the dead of night
amongst the clutter of my mind.
The aroma of your love is strong.
Your dreams fills me with hope.
As I stumble through the darkness you place your hand in mine.
As I journey through the wilderness you water what was dry.
I sit by the stream of quietness and listen one last time.
'Come rest.' You say, 'And follow me.'
Your voice echoes in the cool night breeze, gently guiding, enveloping me.


Copyright Revdjo 16 may 2013

Finding Voice

Everyone has a voice yet not everyone is heard.
Some sit in silence
Others fight for what they deserve.

Everyone has a voice yet not everyone is heard.
The boy tries to tell the world.
He tries to fight his case.
Of abuse and neglect.
His whisper goes unheard.

Everyone has a voice not everyone is heard.
Her tears well up.
Her body shakes.
Her memories echo a distant place.

Everyone has a voice not everyone is heard.
They shout!
They cry!
Will anybody listen?
Does anybody care?
Where is the grace, the love, the warm embrace?

Everyone has a voice not everyone is heard.
The passion that once lived has headed out the door.
The distant eyes.
The lack of smile.
The bitter taste of days once lived.

Everyone has a voice not everyone is heard.
There is something you can do.
There is someone who needs you.
To listen for a moment to the cry from the corner.
To put yourself in their shoes.
To walk a little way.
To feel what it is like when no-one knows your name.
To feel what it is like bound up in pain and shame.

Everyone has a voice not everyone is heard.
Will you speak for me?
Will you change the world?

 copyright Revd Jo  (6 May 2013)

 

The above poem that was a flash of inspiration tonight. I have recently came back from The Baptist Union of Great Britain Assembly during which time I wrote an article for the Baptist Times on finding my voice as a preacher. You can find the article on the Baptist Times Website here.