by James Webb
Following last week’s post, I’ve been reflecting a little more on my spiritual journey over the years. I think I have passed through three distinct stages since I became a Christian, which I have decided to categorise as follows:
Dear Sister/Brother,
There is something that I want to say to you.
When I decided to follow Jesus as an awkward teenager (really, is there any other kind of teenager?) I had only one redeeming quality. It wasn’t that I was quite clever, or reasonably likeable, or that I had a glistening ball of potential creativity resting in me. Read more
Clickity clickity clickity click. Michael’s hands rolled across the keyboard like an express train. On the screen in front of him the numbers spontaneously appeared in the grid. Cause and effect. Read more
For someone who likes words, I seem to spend a lot of my time not able to find the right ones.
Many of my days are spent searching for perfect words, and then trying to arrange them in the perfect order. There are plenty of moments where I can’t even seem to find adequate words, let alone perfect ones. Read more
I hope you’re in the mood for some electropop. This one is by Joy Electric and is called ‘I’m Your Boy’.
The album version of this track isn’t available on YouTube (not in the UK, at least) so I’m having to post a live version taken from a festival, which is somewhat at odds with what the song means for me, as I’ll go on to explain.
Anyway, the band is Selfmindead and the song is called ‘Always’. Read more
There’s a line in Nehemiah 12, when the people of Judah are celebrating the dedication of Jerusalem’s wall, that reads like this: “The sound of rejoicing in Jerusalem could be heard far away.” Read more
I’m going to take a blog break for a couple of weeks over the summer, starting after this post. This is the first break I’ve taken since I started in 2015, so I don’t feel guilty at all. I’m going to leave you with a thought, something you can mull over while I’m off-line, and then we’ll pick up with business as usual in a couple of weeks. OK? Good.
The thought is this: you are contagious.
Don’t worry. So am I. Read more
The workshop smelt of oil and sweat,
Of stone and wood and clay.
The tools of many disciplines,
Around, about they lay.
The handyman, he raised his head:
“How may I help today?” Read more
Reid has already left for school with his mum, while Calvin sleeps on in his GCSE-free zone. Xanthe is somewhere in the house, killing time by listening to music at a volume level chosen for the purpose of agitating her younger brother. I ask Parker about his homework. He declares in a loud voice that he needs some alone time and marches out into the garden. Imogen, sitting at the table munching on her cereal, doesn’t even look up from her book. Read more
