Grace finds a way

Grace flows!

Grace is a soothing, healing reality that flows through nooks and crannies in our lives.

Grace finds a way!

Grace’s entry comes at the most unusual times. It’s appearance is unmistakeable. It softens hearts and opens heaven’s healing encounters. It releases unspoken songs. It gives birth to long buried longings and dreams. It is the tangible expression of my Daddy God’s love. When I  experience grace you become incarnate in my personal experience. Once again you meet me. You caress. You invite. You celebrate.

Grace creates space where you, Spirit of God, can move and whisper my name. Grace imparts possibility and releases the colours of life. It is the entry to the wedding feast! It is festal and rejoices with the wine of the Spirit.

Grace confers the power of identity. It takes the resources  of your treasury and translates them into currency that can be transacted in this broken world. Grace meets blessing at the foot of your cross Jesus, where dirt and blood where mingled irrevocably. Earthen fragility wedded to divinity in the sufferings of the lover of my soul. You gave all for me! Words so lack the capacity to contain your extravagance.

Author – Bill Tidsbury


On Being


Fire’s presence.

Life leaping forward.

Passion meets hunger’s question.

Moments of clarity, instant recognition.

Knowing to know and be known.

Life’s breadth calls without capacity to answer.

Music’s intricacy, anchors souls yearning quest.

Possibilities released through fluid motion.

Masquerade shimmers depth’s wonders.

Eyes see mystery.

Open stance.


Author – Bill Tidsbury

Where angels fear to tread

To paint a world where angels fear to tread,

never flows from violence, being messy or just “nice”.

It’s a place that’s full of choices and denial,

A place where encounters are very wild:

-the wonder of a passion still unknown,

-the glory of a stretching that stills my dread.

-the insight of a wandering wounded child,

-the brokenness of a lover left in ice.

There is a place of delicacy that’s fragile,

the slightest breath will leave it wrecked and strewn in a pile.

There is a glen of quiet that brings a hush while sub-sonic rumbles turn the dust to mush.

When sight is opened to the sky, and light bedazzles so that squints the eye,

when laser’s flash destroys the insight plain, and rips out fragments of retinas frame.

In a time that shifts and twists the plane, so knowing present shifts with future’s past.

If only once there would be a pause, in all the hell bent noisy rush.

Then I would surely paint, a place of life, of freshness and desire,

where angels fear to tread!

Author – Bill Tidsbury

With You

Joy is a feeling internal,

Peace engages my will,

Love is a feeling of mystery

Hope always opens my cage.


To dance when the dance floor is missing,

To laugh when no one is playing,

To sing when the piano is tuneless,

To be when I’m alone in my haze.


It takes courage to laugh in the silence,

It is strong to weep when feeling the song,

It is loud when I’m still and most quiet,

It is life when I breathe and move on.


I stop so I  hear you just being,

I look for a glimpse of your eyes,

I hold  your hand to feel tender,

I turn cause I’m safe in your arms.


I’m best when I’m with you alone.

I’m happy to skip when away,

I’m free to whisper my secrets,

I’m ready to dance all my days.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Seeing yet believing

I walk the streets and see the needs, the rawness of despair. I wander through so many lives and hear their stories rare. I pause and listen to wounded hearts, that yearn for peace and more. I touch a hand that’s shrivelled up with pain and sores galore. I look and see the sweethearts laugh as sexuality blooms. I also see the flash of lust when flesh is grasped and laughter’s joy is overcome instead of loved. I hear the hardness and cutting edge of a woman who’s so abused, she’s willing to have whatever done and feel there is nothing to lose. I see a man embroiled in hate and anger- bitterness most raw. Yet he smiles and quietly submits while the thug struts toying with his fear. I see an owner envisioning things, with craft and yet despair. His work is lost through others graft and his family lies in despair.

I see that people are open to words of life,that speak of Hope and dreams that dare. I know that people can weep with ease when they know that someone is there and cares. I feel the fragments of people’s hearts, the pieces left strewn and torn. I see the bloodless wounds leak life as resignation’s curse gives birth. I cry from deep within my heart, I hurt with none to hear. I sense that need for grace released, but woe, it seems overtaken by force and spent.

I see structures intended to bring release, that lift up an anthem of praise. I see them left empty and soulless now that the service has played its course. The litter is gathered and winds blow along. The garbage is spilled by the edge of the way. And then, as always the meaningless rush of trucks and cars grinding refuse and mercy into streets and byways forlorn. In a broken land – most can not afford to care. Most hurry with eyes cast down. Most concentrate solely on what’s next today and hope that today’s curse will fall else where.

So I wander and drift through a small city’s maze, and ponder the fate of so many who lose. The miracle really is that people keep on, when all around them is disarray. It’s easy to see why they look for release. A moment in someone’s arms to escape. A flight of some fancy, the taste of some sweet, before once again jarring reality I meet.

What do I have to offer, today? I know I carry peace and my eyes speak of grace. I ponder the harshness of desperation’s plight, that can not hold out to sample hope that won’t suffice. There’s yearning for promise, there’s desire for more. But, please can’t you show me that it can blast open a door? How do I prove you? How do I share, the wonder of open heaven’s meeting earth’s darkened shores?

Still there is a whisper, still there is a taste. Moments arise of infinite grace. Sudden encounters, where hope turns to life. Miracles that happen, bringing instants of change. It may be a pain that is suddenly gone. Then there is the liberty of freedom when found. There’s the gasp of surprise and sometimes the awe, when physical bodies heal in an instant of power. Yet still the mystery continues to call. How do I humbly walk out a new call? How do I simply and graciously live, in transparency’s mercy and humility’s embrace?

I’m messy not perfect. I’m crazy yet boxed. I know all the answers and then I have none. I understand hopeless and then I hear more, I shake my head knowing I can’t even find the door! I think instead of feeling, I walk when I should run. I get bored when I’m lifeless and then I’m not fun. I want , yet often, I find I am not seeking. I read but my mind can be off somewhere else sleeping! Whenever I’m ready to give up and just quit, it’s then that you come and gently speak peace.

I find it doesn’t matter, if I live rich or poor. I find the big challenge is in my heart’s core. I want to hear truth, and not just hear the lies. I want to live joyful and not bent with sighs. I know there’s a reason to live in great Hope. I also know simply, that I run when I’m scared. I get caught in the tangle. I get confused by the roar, of pain and confusion that lies at my door.

So I waken this day, with a thirst to know more. I want to feel pain and sit unashamed. To reach out a hand and hold on to you so tight. When everything in me wants to run or just fight. I will not be silent. I will not give in. I will hold the door open and let some light in. I don’t have the answers. In fact I just encounter more – the questions and sorrows seem always to grow. I know something is blooming, I can feel it when still. It is stronger than death and sings beauty’s haunting score. It moves me, it shakes me, and I can not explain, but I know it is tied to your infinite grace.

So I continue to wander, I continue to see. I continue to look into eyes and believe. I care for the hurting. I hope with the hopeless. I hold hands with those who no longer feel nice. I listen and whisper life in the Name. Peace is my country, Hope’s in my core and Love is the blood that you’ve poured in my vein. This is the difference, this is the change that breaks out the violent and gives treasure your name.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Seraphim’s song


planted firmly.

Boundary to oppression.

Light rejoicing in Life.

Arrows flying, ending tyranny’s reign.

Hope flows quietly, washing broken pain.

Noisy words never soothe; Love’s embrace invites.

Settled quietness heals, piercing grief.

Revelation opens heaven’s intimate kiss.

Identities reaction galvanizing surprise!


Seraphim’s song


Author – Bill Tidsbury

Wounds that bleed

Watching fathers clash with daughters.

The road is so rough and hard.

Words leap out to wound

hearts laid bare by ignorance’s brutal knife.

A daughter, she is only fifteen. She is bright yet struggles with her schooling. She, compared to a younger brother, he seemingly gifted and loved. I see – he is favoured, she outside, feeling longing. So the longing for love finds an answer in a friend, a little wilder than her father is willing to embrace. Failure at school and technology bring reactions. Accusations fly, labels stick, and love gets trampled in the fray. Triggers pulled continuously, barbed arrows landing accurately until only rawness separates two souls that really only long for love from the other. Tragedy is in the wings.

Another daughter older, grieving the pain of death.  A deeply empathic soul grinding through the tortuous journey of life in a broken world. Depression’s horizon seems to daily accost. The horror of solitude is now accentuated by the stifling actions of a father. His heart truly longs to embrace yet reaches out to fix and then control that which he can not understand. Actions, bring words that wound. Eyes become haunted believing lies. Journey’s spasm opening steps into ever more dangerous territory. Suddenly, almost irrevocably, decisions occur. Running away is the cry of a wounded heart. Sorrow in a panicked father only releases controlling actions that create even more distance and bitterness. Isolation reigns and trauma multiplies.

Watching, yet Hope breathes life.

Crying as the bleeding runs red.

Listening, if only to understand.

Sitting, as grief speaks loss.

Mystery, it is so hard to see oneself.

Change, so hard to comprehend.

Offering, to stand beside.

Knowing that wounds can heal.

Waiting for heart’s to ask.

Praying to break oppression’s vice.

Knowing each journey is not done.

Resting, I can only do my part.

Believing that light is stronger.

Knowing that love finds a way.

Loving, because love’s my life.

Being, the reality is mine to share.

Identity , comes with Father’s eyes.

Hope stays true to Love.

Love believes all and never fails.

Love takes action and begins to bleed.

Blood given freely, brings healing.

Healing opens doors to Love.

So I watch and Hope and Love.

Author – Bill Tidsbury