*Pathetically weeps at the thought of devising a post title*

I have a terribly publicly known secret: from time to time when i preach, i also cry. A little. Well, sometimes i cry, sometimes i just get a bit choked.

My experience of this is very mixed. On the one hand it's obviously rubbish. It is embarrassing, and i do feel stupid. Also going round my head is how irritating it must be for some people, in the same way oscar-winning speech whiners wind everyone up. People must be thinking "get over yourself, get to the point, or put the mic down and get away from the front". Others will be thinking "Wow, you really remind me of Sylvester Stallone... having his arse kicked by Estelle Getty in 'Stop, or my mom will shoot'". Yet others will suspect a cynical rouse whereby i'm attempting to employ some sort of emotional blackmail in a bid to manipulate the congregation.

All these things are regrettable and make me wish i didn't carry this affliction. The real kicker with it for me though, is how frustrating it is to be rendered silent while preaching. While i look to communicate a fragile point, for which i need my very best words to be most carefully aligned, i'm suddenly robbed of them all, only for them to have been replaced with silent sobs or a pain in my throat and a stinging in my eyes. Or, occasionally, by a little bit of snot.

However, on the other hand, i like it - to a degree. It comes from a place of genuine heart where i'm deeply feeling the weight of what i'm saying, to a level where that weight is clearly much, much bigger than i am. I like that because it has the sense 'of God' about it, and that encourages me. It's also rooted in three other things that i can identify:
- One is that perhaps i'm feeling the grief of what i'm describing.
- Another thing is anxiety because i feel that what i'm saying is important, it's something i've been entrusted with, and i'm hoping to God that i don't botch it. Or rather, the anxiety comes because the words i'm using can't fully contain what it is that i'm trying to express.
- The other thing it's rooted in is my own vulnerability. Often, if i'm saying something which is outside my sense of where most people are in their thought (or would admit to being), but which i'm convinced about and have struggled with, i feel terribly exposed and at huge risk of expulsion (or something like it), and the difficulty of the journey i've been on to get to that point all comes out.

This Sunday past was one of those Sundays. As well as looking to give account of myself here, there was a further thought that struck me. As well as some people finding the whole thing irritating, there are those who find it endearing, and others for whom it's a mark of authenticity in what i'm saying - or at least in my experience of what i'm saying.

It came back to me that one person who was there had reported to a third party that "it was good. I wasn't paying attention until he got upset, and that drew me in". So here's the thought:
We have this huge tendency to separate 'head' and 'heart' / emotion and reason / thinking and feeling. We're aware of this, and our post-enlightenment, post-modern world seeks to address it, but do we do it enough? If there is 'Spirit', it is surely a full-bodied combination, and potent exacerbation, of both parts. Do we still pay too much regard to reason at the expense of emotion? Do we do this more in preaching than in other realms? Do we require reason to lead us to emotion, or do we just pretend we do? What's the appropriate balance for preachers; for them to have thoroughly thought something through, or for them having been deeply affected by it?

England's lament.

Advisory: Explicit Content.

It's World Cup time so the world and her partner is trying to cash-in by attempting to write the next 'Football's coming home'. Sadly, so are Baddiel, Skinner and The Lightening seeds - literally the next 'football's coming home'. Their effort is an ever-so-slightly tweaked version of the song they've re-released every tournament since 1996. So no doubt everyone else's efforts to top the charts and get the terraces chanting their tune will be in vain.

Out of this milieu of 'musical'-England-supporting-football-based-desperation rises one song. It won't be a hit, no-one will sing it and i can't even find it anywhere to buy. In fact i'm not even really sure who's done it or what it's called.That in itself is refreshing enough, no self-publicity, just a song.

What i really like about it is the way it contains bits of everything associated with English football fans. There is a strong sense of wit and self-deprecation, combined with hope and passion. But there is also thuggery and xenophobia / racism - which i'm not entirely sure is celebrated or lampooned. I think the video slightly errs towards celebrating it, but the song on its own is self-aware and ironic.

What underpins all this though, and gives the song its worth, is a surprising sense of lament that comes from the guitar, and the sense of almost mourning found in usually aggressive and upbeat chants. Yes, it probably is about lamenting England's footballing performances; the way we always have to hark back to '66; the way we always seem to be undone by injury or petulance on the part of key players; the way we already know we'll go out because we can't score penalties. But i also read it as lament for the things already referred to here; the thuggery, the racism, the violence, the excesses. Or maybe i just desperately hope that that's what's going on. Either way, i find myself strangely moved by it.

Health warning: Language is strong, the chorus revolves around the 'Let's go something mental' chant.

A Mars a day helps your pride go away

Mars and John Barnes (via New Order) collaborate on the all-time greatest exercise in exchanging shame for cash.