Prayer is a strange and fascinating process. Probably not the same for you as it is for me. Everyone has their own way and ideas about what prayer is, or isn’t. I’ve been tangling with the process since I started…
Category: Prayer: the cry of the human heart
I wrote this prayer, or cry of the human heart, for an interfaith gathering at the Cathedral of the Holy Spirit in Palmerston North and the MidCentral DHB vigil. Chant, sing or say it with great passion! O God of…
People remember where they were when Martin Luther King and John Kennedy were shot. From here on in, Kiwis will know where they were on the 15th March 2019. The day a man opened fire in two sacred spaces killing 49 of our Muslim…
Over the past few weeks a number of friends and colleagues have experienced the death of someone close to them. Whether the person is famous or a solitary unknown, whether the room is crowded at death or the person dies alone,…
No matter how hard I trydespite the theology I’ve doneI can’t separate God from the bloke in the skysomewhat disinterestedremoved and impenetrablein league with earthly patriarchy. If I say Goddeis it different?Sometimes, but not always. What I mean is thatat…
The thing is Godde when I speak to you I find that I’m pretty incoherent. No fancy phrases, or lucid lines as if I’m not even sure what I’m doing. It’s as though, without wanting to be rude that I’m…
Oh, Godde, whatever you are and I don’t know; my mum is dying. Maturity disappeared in one phone call when she said, I have something to tell you. No! I’m not ready. Too many memories of being held hurt soothed…
This prayer/poem was created out of a conversation I had with a seriously injured man in ICU. Can you close the curtain?Sure.We call them the blue soundproof ones.Yeah, nah, not, it’s an illusion.(He laughs) So, what does God look…
Everyone carries secrets. Not necessarily the kind that titillate, but the ordinary, everyday ones that rise to trouble us like a recurring virus. The pain of regret, of knowing that our lives are not perfect, not even close but sometimes…
like rainbows that never reach the pot of gold there’s a kind of beauty in the unrealised the unfinished, the chaotic omnipotent god (the one Prof Dawkins fights with good on him but it’s limited, like only seeing an elephant…