The Child Who Loved to Groove

At the age of seven, I remember picking up a copy of an interesting CD off the side. It had a rounded metal guitar on it. It intrigued me, to say the least. My mum had just brought a new CD player with four disc trays, and a banging sound system. I took full advantage. This particular band were of course Dire Straits, not that I knew that at the time, I just liked the songs. In fact, it wasn’t just Dire Straits. One night, our long suffering neighbour, ended up banging on the door, someone was playing Oasis at eleven O’ clock at night. My neighbour was confused and angry. My baby sitter too was shocked, she was in bed! Imagine how surprised they both were to find a seven year old Joseph Turner grooving away to Wonderwall in the living room. The third album I loved was Nirvana’s Nevermind with the picture of the naked baby on the front. Whilst on holiday in Malta, they had it on a jukebox, I put it on over and over again. I loved Come as you Are. However, like that baby in the picture (I saw a news report on him a couple of months ago) I am now grown up.

My taste in music has grown up too. I tried to be cool, which meant sticking with one genre, but I loved everything. Every time I tried, new music from a different genre would always slip into my collection and wreck my dream of being trendy.  At present, there are roughly one hundred and thirty bands on my Spotify. A lot more if you count the compilations. The latest editions to my music collection include Coldplay’s Mylo Xyloto, and Enter Shikari’s, a flash Flood of colour. Both exceptional albums, but on totally different spectrums to each other. One has elements of the Verve, the other sounds like the techno, you'd imagine The Jetsons would listen to. Many things have changed, but one thing hasn’t; like that little boy who used to blast out to Dire Straits on full volume, I still have exceptional taste in music. If you are wondering what my favourite album is, I would say at this moment, Sound of Melodies by Leeland. It continues to speak to me in a powerful way about the Grace of God. Of course, any album that starts “we are called to be your people, struggling sinners and thieves” is gonna chime with me. I highly recommend listening to it. It should be available on Youtube.

The Little Lost Lamb

The devil roars, I escape, another soul saved.

The water of life flows out from this place from a rock in the desert.

Who’d have thought it, just one man, on one day would be enough,

enough to vanquish our sin as far as the east is from the west.

But where am I? I strayed too far....

Oh lord tip over the water jars of the heavens for I am thirsty.

The devil taunts me, I feel alone in this, come to me in my darkest hour.

Pick me up like a newborn lamb, carry me under your arm, you good shepherd.

An enemy approaches with a staff, no wait–the good shepherd. You came for me!!!

I asked you to come, and you did! My leg hurts good shepherd.

“Your fleece is all muddy lamb. You must be so thirsty, and your poor leg. Why did you wander from me?” Asked the good shepherd.

You found me with a broken ankle in the wilderness, I was so scared.

Bind up my wounds and bring me home. Show me what it means to lie down in green pastures.

Protect me from the wolves, from the lions that seek to devour.

God you are good to me, though I fled from you, you still carried me home.

"I don’t deserve you, what did I do to earn such favour with you?

Nothing for I am just a lamb after all..."

“You may just be a lamb,” replied the good shepherd “but you are my lamb.”

The Art of Being Joseph Turner

I wake up and study the list on my wall. Exactly one week ago, I started this new list. The previous list is now in the bin. I look at it for a few moments before spotting two things I can now cross off. This list is harder than the last one. I've put tasks on there I could not possibly dream of finishing in a hurry. In Hindsight, I am glad I did, because, like the previous list, the tasks are being crossed off. The last few weeks have been a minor miracle in themselves– the amount of stuff I have seen. People have started opening up to me in a big way, and Bradford campus is now ripe for a harvest. The students did a phenomenal job, during mission week. I've seen people who were previously unresponsive to the gospel suddenly open their ears and listen. I now have stronger links with the Muslims on the university campus. The only downside is that by Monday of last week, I was on the verge of burning out completely. The greatest problem I have is that I am a perfectionist. Being a perfectionist tends to mean I am incredibly busy. Last Sunday night after work, which finished at 2am, I chatted to a lad till about six in the morning.

This will be my first consecutive Friday and Saturday night off since before Christmas. Sounds crazy, right? What's even crazier is, though we have the church weekend away, there is a part of me that would rather be working. I am undoubtedly a workaholic. With regards to the short story, now called "Out of the Darkness." It should be up on kindle within the next week or so. As with everything that I have written before, it has been read, by at least several different people, all of whom, found it to be gripping, and spine chilling. It is currently with an editor, and a dear friend of mine called Calab. His website is www.englishchecking.com.

Death, the great equalizer

As the stars of my childhood drop like flies, first Michael then Dumbledore, and now Whitney I can’t help but think death may not be that bad. When people's time on this planet comes to an end, there is a renewed sense of appreciation, for their contribution to society. Take Whitney, I have not listened to her stuff in years, and all of a sudden I hear her music everywhere I go and am actively seeking it out. You can take the–oh it's such a shame route, but actually is that the best way to look at death? Besides if we all lived on this earth for eternity we would be in trouble, I mean we treat each other so badly anyway. Imagine a sex slave I am pretty sure she would not want to do that job forever. Death brings us the peace we strive for, but so rarely find in life.

To those that are left behind they normally have a renewed desire to make the most of the time they have. When my dad passed a few years ago, slowly his faced faded from my memory, but there is always something that will bring me back to his face, to the flat he called home for so many years: Golden Virginia rolling tobacco. We live on not just in the hearts and memories of others, but also in smells and touch. I personally believe life is such a gift. I can't wait to have kids, because as with most gifts life is worth sharing. However, I have had a happy life. As Jerome Crabb put it: Dying is like coming to the end of a long novel–you only regret it if the ride was enjoyable and left you wanting more. As both a writer and a reader, I can really identify with that.

An update from Bradford: Is that a light I see?????

It has taken over five months, but I can finally see a light at the end of this extraordinarily long dark tunnel. Finances are in a better shape than they have been since I moved to Bradford. The mission trip is to Serbia has been paid for with generous donations from various parties, family and one very generous anonymous donation of £200. Even better news by mid march I should have the money to send the book off to the editors-one last time. I will soon be starting the football project in Bradford, which I am extremely excited about! Not even the snow and the chaos it brings can dampen this man’s mood! If anything this experience has undoubtedly given me more respect for church planters, it's not easy upping sticks and moving half way up the country. It creates chaos for at least for the first half a year. The dust has finally settled, and I once again am back to my reasonably content state. I am working on a short story at the moment, it will be a children’s story. Apologies for the delay in posting The Forgotten, I have finally found someone who is capable of turning it into HTML format for Kindle. I am going to set a bold date of the 31st of February to get it online by. Anyone with an IPAD or Kindle should be able to read it.

An update from Bradford:Time to grow up?

As I sat at my computer filling out my PGCE application I had a C.S Lewis moment. What I mean by that is, C.S Lewis at the age of thirty wrote this quote: "at the age of thirty, I finally had to come to terms with the fact I was a walking talking adult." I want kids, I would like a lovely wife as well, perhaps it is time I started preparing the ground for that. I honestly believe that my childlike view of the world is not wrong, we grow old because we stop playing, I don't intend on stopping playing, running around the house with Nerf guns is something I will do with my own children, it is far too much fun. Nevertheless it is time to grow up, because as my elder Stew put it, I am not a child anymore. Indeed I am no longer a new christian child, but a new christian man. Time shake off the nothingness and go for gold. I can summerise my early twenties as a feat of whimsical nostalgia, born of childlike ignorance. I genuinely believed I went through two childhood's, the one with an absent biological father, and the one where I got to know my real father— my heavenly father.

This does not mean that my hours of writing will be traded for hours in front of the telly, but I will at long last get some life focus. I have made strides towards it in the last year, with goal setting and list making. Something which I have never done before, I am at last becoming a productive human. Whilst I enjoy the fun and games and I am sure those around me do to. What I have now (the job and my current life style) I will consider a hindrance by the time I hit my thirties, especially if I am married. Or worse I'll just become a dead weight, still living with mum, no recognisable future, just drifting. After all, we all have to grow up sometime. My advice is this— grow up, but don't ever grow old, and you should be end up reasonably content. Whats the difference? We grow old because we stop playing, we grow up because it is the right thing to do.

A day of endings and New beginnings

It's a day of endings and new beginnings. Viewshound is closing. Whilst it is not a unexpected end for a site that was dishing out cash, like it grew on trees. It is been traunmatic for us as it's writers, and what it created was something really special. C.S Lewis was quoted as saying "We read to know we are not alone." I think the same can be said of writers. And truly what the website taught us, is that we are not alone. Indeed there is a sea of aspiring authors and writers out there. People who want their voice heard, people who after forty years on this planet are completly lost, and people with incredibly stories to tell. The sun however has set on Viewshound, but life carries on in much the same way as it always has. Guess I should hunt down a new website to write on. Merry Christmas! 2012 will be the year I can finally afford to send Nowhere to be Found off to the editors one last time. Who would have thought writing would be such a costly and time consuming process? The good news is we have a first draft of Unspent Convictions, and if I do say so myself, more of the rip roaring action, will they-won't they moments, that are defining Matthew Deezat as a character. 2012 is going to be a good year, I can feel it in my bones!