The Bishop, Bob Dylan and the Book of Psalms

It's not always the case that I find myself in tune with a Bishop on Thought for the Day...but today, the Bishop of Leeds, our former Bishop of Croydon, Nick Baines gave a Pause for Thought on Radio 2 that chimed with what we have planned here for the summer at HT.

Nick's transcript is below if you'd like to read the whole thing, or you can listen to it here.

Nick spoke abut the power of songs - words and music combined - to 'shred our souls' as we listen to songs that convey the whole range of human emotions.

He then turned to the Psalms:

Whether howling with complaint about the injustices in life, or laughing with joy at the wonderful enormity of the cosmos, or weeping alongside those whose lives have been torn apart, or encouraging your mates to stick with it regardless of the hindrances … the whole of life is in there and there’s a song for everyone at every time and in every place.

Over the summer services at Holy Trinity we are looking at some of the Psalms. 
On Sundays it is Psalms 61-63: God my Rock (61), God my Fortress (62), God my God (63). 
Tomorrow at Rendezvous - our 10am midweek service - we begin a series on 'My Favourite Psalm (and Why)'. Different preachers will say how the psalm they have chosen has been used by God to speak to them at some point in their life - pointing them to God, to hope, to comfort; enabling them to express pain, sorrow, doubt, delight.

Come along and let God put a new song in your mouth!

Psalm 40

Long journeys by nickbaines

This is the script of this morning's Pause for Thought on BBC Radio 2's Chris Evans Show.

It's that time of year again. For me August slows everything down and I finally get some space. But, it's also the time for long car journeys … and that means loads of time to listen to music. The great thing about your kids having grown up is that no one argues with your choice of CDs.

Well, what you’ll find in my car this morning - I have just checked - is a strange mix of Bruce Springsteen, Bob Dylan, Richard Ashcroft, Elbow and the wonderful Imelda May. I got back from a trip the other day feeling that my emotions had been shredded, listening to songs that seem to have been dragged out from the depths.

And that’s the power of music. Words on their own can pack a punch, but add a good tune and some decent backing and your guts go on a different journey.

There’s nothing new about this. One of the other things I do during August is read all 150 Psalms from the Hebrew Scriptures. Why? Simply because I get immersed in a song book that doesn't always reflect my mood or circumstances, but does provide a vocabulary for times yet to come. Whether howling with complaint about the injustices in life, or laughing with joy at the wonderful enormity of the cosmos, or weeping alongside those whose lives have been torn apart, or encouraging your mates to stick with it regardless of the hindrances … the whole of life is in there and there’s a song for everyone at every time and in every place.

Just over a week ago I was talking to child refugees in the countryside outside Khartoum in Sudan. Kids whose family have disappeared and who find themselves abandoned or orphaned through the violence of others. Yet, they still hear the echoes of a haunting melody that whispers of hope as they are taken in and cared for by strangers who meet them where they are. Lament is coloured by laughter; memory does not just belong to the past, but is being created for tomorrow.

So, in all the twists and turns of a fragile life, it is still possible to detect the sound of a plea uttered by Canadian songwriter Bruce Cockburn: “Love that fires the sun keep me burning.”