Words to bridge the gap between faith and life…
And now we lift
this bread, this wine
born from dust,
tilled in soil,
fermented,
kneaded,
baked: now break
this bread
and rend
your hearts, your hands.
You look
one to another,
say,
“Not I?” Yet surely you, before
the night
is done
will swear
you did not ever eat this bread.
This bread for you
is broken.
This blood for you
is spilt.
This is the day that the Lord has made:
My soul is weary; my heart is faint.
This is the righteous gate of the Lord:
I hear the slander of many.
The Lord has done this;
it is marvellous to our eyes:
My life is consumed in anguish.
O Lord, save us. Grant us success:
My times, O God, are in Your hands.
Blessed is he who comes in the name –
To the Lord I lift my soul.
Since no one can keep the law, what is its purpose?
That we may know the holy nature and will of God, and the sinful nature and disobedience of our hearts; and thus our need of a Savior. The law also teaches and exhorts us to live a life worthy of our Savior.
(New City Catechism)
So earthly good starves, yet Law stands,
a good tree planted in sick soil,
exemplar of life, arrow to Eden.
And we, though our stomachs
sicken at the sight, may eat –
if we first learn to kneel at its roots.
Desperation must come first: the cry
of a helpless heart eternally lost,
mercy the one last, half-hoping hope.
Then the tree: planted in the place of skulls,
and the Exemplar ascending,
desperate and hopeful, merciful to the last.
Sit with Him; eat with Him;
dip the bread, by His side –
Surely Lord not I?
Walk with Him through olive trees;
fall asleep and fail to pray;
watch as one of you betrays –
Surely Lord not I?
Warm yourself by cosy fires;
answer truth with spitting lies;
listen as the cock crows; Thrice
you will deny me. Adamant:
Surely Lord not I?
Watch as thorns are made His crown;
see the dice cast for His clothes;
see them spit and mock and dance;
see them cast their king aside;
Surely Lord, surely Lord,
surely Lord, not I?
See Him breathe with aching breath;
see Him lift Himself and gasp;
see Him turn His gaze to sky;
see Him ask in agony:
Forgive them, Father, they know not
what they do. See; watch and weep:
Surely Lord, surely Lord,
surely, Lord, not I?
See Him cast death, weak, aside;
see Him take on life and rise.
See Him lift the cursed ones too
and take them through His life and death;
see Him give His death to them
and give His life and give His pain
and give His life to live again.
Surely Lord, surely Lord,
surely, Lord, not I?
Look:
see the woman with her oil and hair;
see His feet (they’re not yet scarred);
see the gasp upon your face;
see His searching eyes.
Listen:
He spoke to you of the Son of Man;
He spoke of death and burial;
He spoke of Passover, exodus;
He spoke; you did not hear.
Learn:
He stands to tell you all the truth;
He stands beside the lavish act;
He stands against what we expect;
He stands soon in our place.
What now? Death
takes the best; the body droops
upon the Cross. We look;
the sting in eyes declares
that all is done.
It is finished. What?
Are we done for, Lord? Where
the hopes and fears of all
the years, once met in You?
Where now? All done?
All done for?
What next? Take the body down
and wait? The evening yawns.
Swing low, sweet chariot, come.
Come take us home.
One of the original purposes with which The Consolations of Writing was created was to celebrate the ways in which God can use our trials and struggles to grow good fruit in our lives. This purpose emerged out of my own struggles with mental illness – depression and obsessive-compulsive disorder – and the ways in which, in my darkest times, evidence of God’s presence could clearly be seen in the writing that I was able to produce at those times.
So, it is with great excitement that I announce my next writing project, due to begin after Easter: an eight-month project, going until the end of the year, exploring the fruit of mental illness in the lives of prominent Christians throughout the ages.
This is where I need your help. While I have a number of figures already whom I am looking forward to exploring, I am sure there are others I am missing. Please feel free to comment with any thoughts or suggestions: whose are the stories you have found comforting in your own struggles? Whose work, whether it be writing, music, art or theology, has demonstrated God’s work within and through mental illness?
Look, the shepherd separates:
sheep from goats He divides,
bone and marrow He prises open,
hearts’ deep secrets He dissects.
Look, the true ones walk
through streets and feed the poor.
The children give their food to dogs,
the princes clothe the naked…
Look; deep inside, now look.
Secret acts reveal our secret thoughts.
When none around you look, He sees.
The shepherd separates.
First the garden.
And this first betrayal:
friends asleep
when most needed; then –
another
in the wings, a kiss
at the ready; a sword,
the sternness of armies
come to slay a spotless lamb.
O Christ –
I have not even a sword;
only betrayers’ kisses
heaped with pride.
Why must You bleed, even now?
When legions of angels could
take You away?
Why must You take the kiss of death
as we betray our Lamb?
And it will reveal
who has taken talents, hid
them in the frugal field,
who has sown what has been given
and let small things grow.
And it will reveal
the hearts of those who plant and reap,
the hearts of servants great
and small, the motives of the heart’s
dark countries. The light
will reveal, it will
shine into chasms, abscesses,
show forth the truth of what
we did while left unto our own
devices and desires. Let
the truth shine brightly in.
The Consolations of Writing 