David's Pen

John tentatively put the key in the lock and turned it. He’d spent most of the day without the physical presence of, well, of whoever… and his brain was insisting on recalling the time with him as a false memory, an hallucination. He didn’t know whether he preferred the idea that he was going quietly mad or that God was waiting for him in his flat. He opened the door hesitantly and heard nothing, realising that he was feeling disappointed along with an internal sigh of relief. He hung up his jacket on its peg and went into the kitchen to get a well-deserved beer. God was sat at the table with an open can in his hand whilst another one was on the side, waiting for him. Disappointment was quickly exchanged for shock and he gaped, open-mouthed. “Thought you’d want a beer after the day you’ve had. It’s not the best I’ve ever tasted, but it’s cold.” And with that, he picked the spare up and tossed it to John. “Nice flat by the way, you keep it tidy when there’s no one else to see it – t...

 Numbly, and with some trepidation, John followed him inside. Would other people see him? Was he some kind of ‘holy ghost’ that only he could see? The answer was quickly answered, “Two of your finest eclairs, one espresso and one latte please.” The assistant smiled and replied: “You’re in a very good mood this morning!” “Ah well, that’s because I finally get to have some time with my good friend John.” Then, turning to said friend, “Pay the lady, John – you know I never carry any money!” Once they had their purchases they headed for a table away from other ears and John spoke first: “Ok, this is freaking me out. I don’t know what to call you or who you are or how long you’re going to stay or what any of this is about - I mean, I thought you were the holy spirit or something, but if you’re holy, surely, you’d have run away from my anger and swearing…” His new friend smiled and nodded. “John, I am who I say I am, but you don’t really know me. You’ve heard about me, and you’ve t...

  John’s brain was revving more than the car, which had stalled and come to a halt in the middle of the road. He rationalised: The Holy Spirit, is a, well, a spirit – not a middle-aged man in T shirt and jeans sitting next to you in your car. And yet he was fairly sure he hadn’t given anyone a lift, the car had been empty, other than him, when he had started. True, he had been in a tearing hurry, but a stranger getting into the car next to you is something you’d surely notice. He began to sweat – maybe the pressure he was under had finally made him crack. There wasn’t really a man impossibly in the car next to him, it was a trick of a disturbed mind, the lack of sleep, the slight hangover, the pressure of the interview… The stranger shook his head: “No, you’re not cracking up – well, no more than normal.” Then with another chuckle, “But I love the fact that you’re so surprised by an answered prayer that you’re more ready to believe in your own insanity than that it has been ans...

  John was running late. Again. He was so late that he was regretting squeezing in his quiet time before leaving.   He was caught up in the school run traffic and unless he got a parking place near the office, he’d be late. And not just for the start of work, but for the interview that so much rested on. He knew deep down that it was his own fault, but that was just adding to the angst. He decided to pray as he drove, briefly closing his eyes and putting his hands together before remembering that he was driving. He opened his eyes and put his hands back on the wheel, hoping that God would overlook the non-standard prayer posture. He wanted to do it right in order to make it more likely that his prayer would be answered, even whilst recognising this sounded a lot like superstition. Distracted, he began: “O Lord, maker of heaven and earth, sovereign Lord, the one who…” he interrupted his own prayer, realising that time was of the essence, “Actually, what I really need right ...

Forming, moulding,  rhythms set in motion. The heartbeat of love, a dance of joy and delight, the creator creates Words breathing from heart bringing to life Sparkling, sharing, A twinkle in eye love without bounds His beauty imprinted Relationship ignited God's heart delighted And then to the fall Heartbreak for all Gods longing for Met with fingers up And sod off, We can do it alone, from the ones that he loves The rhythm now broken Relationship shattered The heartbeat still there but now there's a barrier Out of the greenery, out of gods presence Living now harder without the gardener Death has now come in God's heart is still longing His beauty still moulding His desire for our healing And heart for us living Have never faded or diminished or wavered Wholly for, sending his all, his son Plan into motion, A vulnerable solution borne of love not control Who he is displayed for all Ever hoping, ever longing Love and Humility ki...

The Bystander’s View   A teenage pregnancy that must surely end in an abortion. The betrayed husband who must surely seek a divorce. The appalled family, scrabbling for stones to throw. The former friends spitting as you pass. The future is written in the past. It's the law. This must lead to death. And yet it doesn’t… The pregnant girl and her husband, trekking to Bethlehem, away from the hatred. The fear and pain of that first labour. The slamming doors, the lack of help. Here in the street, a carpenter and his wife. It's inevitable. This must lead to the death of the mother and her child. And yet, they survive… A house at last, normality. But what did Simeon mean, 'a sword will pierce your side'? Wise men might know the answer, but they bring attention of the wrong kind. Herod's murderers. Jesus' friends. Gone. All his power against one small child. Only one possible result. And yet, they escape… Great holiday, b...