My Invitation.​

My Invitation.​

Looking Up

On Sunday I was asked if I could give a short testimony on how I came to faith and how I met Jesus. I was a little unsure if I wanted to do it at first, as I hadn’t spoken about my faith in front of an audience of people before but after thinking about it I decided I would.

During the service, I didn’t end up using any of my notes as I wanted to make sure I was making eye contact with the people I was speaking to and not looking down at any words. So what I have here for you is a rough idea about what I said on Sunday…

A year ago today I wasn’t a Christian, nor did I think or believe in any God. If anything, I was against religion, after all, we never hear anything positive about religion in the media, so…

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A Night In

let’s bury this in the loam of soft memories…

Ella and Louis

the coco pops patter of vinyl        t w i r l i n g

pencils and maps you’ve drawn of home, lovely names


Maraziii o n                    Pol zzeath


Sin Ives


Sin Columb

Mawgan Porrth



and, the rain, would you believe, on the skylight

Easter. Baptism.

Easter. Baptism.

My boyfriend got baptised and wrote the most beautiful blog post you will ever read…

Looking Up

On Easter Sunday, it would be my first time at a Cornish church called Tubestation. I was recommended to go to the church by my girlfriend’s dad and had no idea what I was about to spontaneously do.

I woke up on Easter Sunday, the sun was shining through my blinds and partly onto my pillows and partly on my wallpaper. I was reasonably nervous that morning, knowing that I was about to introduce myself to a brand new church without any of my friends from York for support. The morning before I messaged a guy call Joff, who helps run the church. He was going to give me a lift in and hopefully become a friendly face that I could turn to if I felt out of my depth or whatever. Anyway, I had a shower, got dressed – all of the usual stuff – even if I did spend…

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The night was thrown thick over the world.
It muffled the stars, at the hour when
We saw the fox.
Lamplight yellow she was
Curled like a fern, like the spiral of a snail shell, in the grass.

She was there to begin with.

Her brother slipped nose- first out the dark;
If he was called, we never heard the call.
Our breath met in a cloud.

They slowed time with their tails
And they drew a fortress around their patch of night.
They had let us in and now they let us out.
When we looked back, they still were keeping vigil for their circle of sky.

heavy water

at night there comes a wave

which i sit under.

more and more now,

the water seeps into my daytime thoughts

the safety of sunlight is not to be trusted.

instead i seek your wings

and i listen for your call

but you, who have comforted me before

seem to be soaring above

whilst i hang in a tarry sea

yet even as i am there, i know that my lungs will not split

for you are in the nighttime and the day

you are in the waves and the clouds and you are

the breath in me