Strange Hymns

Strange Hymns

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These strange hymns 

Like a foreign land in my mouth 

An artefact of history not mine 

But yet is 

The mouths around me are shaped to sing them, 

Familiar as the morning’s birdsong

Comforting as a mother’s lullaby 

But the rhythm of my heart doesn’t beat to the same tune, 

I fumble over the words as they flow through, 

Peaking at places I dropped, crescendoing at the moments I abandoned 

And I can’t quite get it right. 

But there are other hymns that used to feel to me strange. 

Emotions, beliefs, ideas that couldn’t wedge into my heart’s landscape 

They sat atop, blown away by the winds 

Those same strange hymns 

Now flow through the cracked soil of my soul like the year’s first rains 

Bringing words to the wordless experiences I could never tame

Giving dimension to the story of my life, not just words on a page but 

The gentle fingers of a sovereign God that brushed me 

And I am changed. 

So those hymns, once strange, now ring in my mind like wedding bells, 

And narrate my steps to the alter where you await me, 

My faithful one, who always knew he would make me his one day, 

Who shaped love that brokenness could receive, 

Whose touch breeds life in the eyes of the blind and the skin of the leper. 

And I see you, and feel you, every time I hear them. 

Those hymns once felt strange too, 

I would have never known they would be the score of my wedding, 

Underpinning a divine romance I could have never predicted or written, 

And these hymns now, they feel strange,

They don’t sit right, 

They don’t ignite me, 

They don’t call to mind a moment in our love story, 

Yet. 

But if they’re anything like the hymns I learned when we first met, 

Then maybe there’s a prophecy hidden somewhere in the melodic structure, 

A new whirlwind when you sweep me off my feet like you never did before, 

Or your words come like a healing balm to my bleeding heart, 

Or your wisdom covers the chaos of my life and presents it back to me in the simplest way. 

And I feel like I’m born again on new soil. 

A fertile land that never grows desolate and blooms in every season with colours I’ve never seen before. 

Spread me out and plant seeds in me Lord. 

Let me be a garden of your glory. 

Let the blooms come from deep within, 

In the language of these strange new hymns. 

Watch my performance of this poem, in collaboration with Visual Flow: