Nothing Can Change Your Mind

Have you ever felt like you're far from your home?

“Have you ever felt like you’re far from your home? Have you ever felt like you’re all on your own? I know I have.” a lyric from the single I released last week, called Nothing Can Change Your Mind.

Cover art by Marine Buffard

I’ve processed a lot through this album and one of the things I felt challenged to do was just to name things plainly. To say it like it is. In between the poetic imagery and the references to scripture and other concepts, I position a few lines that just say it like it is.

It feels strangely vulnerable to be so straight-forward but the truth of the matter is I wrestle with loneliness on a regular basis. I live alone. I lost both my parents, the people who felt like home to me. And going through a break-up meant letting go of the person I truly loved. Honestly, being in my 30s I started to let go of the hope of ever finding someone like that. There were days I told myself that if heartbreak hurts this much, I don’t ever want to love again. There were moments I felt the same way about my parents. Maybe if we weren’t so close, and our family didn’t have such a tight bond, then this wouldn’t sting as much. Maybe it’s safer not to love people or be close with people.

But finding comfort in my family and my siblings during those moments also reminded me that I was, in fact, incredibly grateful for the gift of family and the closeness we have. That was a gift my parents left us. But the good being so good does make the bad feel really bad. The ache of loneliness feels even deeper after experiencing such a rich sense of belonging. When the good things are really good, the bad things feel really bad.

In my processing, I read a lot. I turned to scripture. I read books by people like Henri Nouwen, John O'Donohue and Rilke. They talked about the importance of ascetic solitude and “befriending your loneliness”. I scoffed a bit at the idea. “This isn’t something to befriend” I thought to myself “it’s a burden to carry”.

And I’d think about the things I was taught growing up in church. I’d think about God’s omnipresence. Friends would remind me through prayers, texts and conversations that I’m never really alone. That God’s presence is always with me. And yet somehow, even though I’d nod in agreement and know deep down they were right - the reality of it felt so out of each, so ethereal. There were times I could sense God’s nearness and presence. But, if I was a character in one of those RPG games where I could press a button and switch the camera into third-person view, I would see it’s still just me sat here in my apartment, no one else around.

People would remind me that my relationship with God is the ultimate relationship, the best thing there is. But then I find myself sat with my Bible, trying to read a passage I don’t understand, speaking prayers out into the room and not hearing anything back, and I’d think - really?

A friend encouraged me with 2 Corinthians 4:

“we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.”

I get it. Those tangible things in front of us are temporary. Fleeting. I know this all too well. Sometimes I just wish those eternal things were also a little more ‘seen’. I want to be like the disciples, to sit face to face with Jesus and have breakfast, and ask him questions, and see his facial expressions. But even Jesus told his disciples that it’s better that he goes, because then he will send the Spirit. I think about this often and wonder how much I must underestimate the role of the Holy Spirit in my life. For Jesus to say that it is better than literal face to face communion with him? I believe but help my unbelief.

And sometimes these thoughts ‘cause me to run. To go in search of the tangible, the temporary, the face to face. I don’t want to sit with the loneliness. I try and fill my calendar with things to do and people to see, but then when I’m with people I feel overwhelmed and sometimes still not fully seen and I wish I was back home. I try and fill the gap with validation, posting things that people like, reading nice comments on my songs, getting a complement from the stranger working at a store in town, anything! Because sitting with myself, “befriending my loneliness”, meant facing things I don’t want to face. It means time to be alone with my thoughts. The thoughts I try and block out, all the things I’ve done and ways I’ve messed up. All the parts that I can’t cover up with any amount of performance. And it’s in that fear and hesitation that I wrote the second verse, from an outsider perspective (maybe a friend? maybe the Spirit?)

“Where you trying to run to? His mercy never ends. He’s taken all of your failures as far as east is from the west - you’ll never see them again.”

And then I flip my confession of loneliness into an ‘even when’.

“Even when you feel like you’re far from your home, even when you feel like you’re all on your own - you’re still in his hand.”

I spoke with a couple of friends during a songwriting session recently about the life journeys we had been on, the feelings and the thoughts that come from our experiences. But one thing that we could all say with confidence was: God never failed us. He never actually let us down. Sure, we might have disappointments and things that weren’t answered in the way we thought. But deep down, we know he’s there. It’s just something we can’t shake.

On the days I wrestled with doubt, when prayers felt like they landed right back in the silence of my room and I tried to run away, I would run into his hand, hemming me in like a little hamster trying to run off a table. I’d slam into this wall that I couldn’t deny, reminding me that he’s still very much there. He might be silent, he might not be answering any of my questions, but when I start to run, I know that’s him stopping me.

And even though I wrestle with all these thoughts on a regular basis, I know one thing to be true. We all desire to be seen and known, at the deepest level. And I don’t think any person can really hit that mark. I don’t think the best parent or partner can fully see every part of us, know us, and love us perfectly and unconditionally. And when we pin all of our hope of that in a person, we set ourselves up for disappointment.

A few days ago I found myself set around a table in London pub, talking through some of these very feelings. A friend mentioned the exact same thing: “Do you ever think about why Jesus said it was better that he goes away?”. I nodded the biggest nod I could. We spoke about it for a while and realised, as well as the obvious answer of him sending his Spirit, it may also be for the reason of sitting around tables like the one we were sat around. To be around one another, in deep friendship and connection. Each with the Spirit of God living in us. In that way, we all, across the world have access to Jesus, through other believers. The body. And perhaps part of our ache is that we haven’t explored the depths of what real, soul friendship is meant to look like. The type of friendship Jesus intended for his church. Perhaps it takes us leaning into one another and allowing ourselves to be fully seen and known in that space, to feel the love that is by our side.

That’s why the second chorus of this song is a reminder to myself. Sometimes I sing it in confidence and sometimes in sheer defiance in spite of how I feel.

“Steadfast, you have known me from the beginning to the end of time. Every. Single. Moment. Your love was always by my side.”

And when the fear creeps in that maybe God won’t love me if he fully sees me and knows me. That maybe he’ll want to take away his love when he finds out how up and down I can be, how fickle my heart is. Then I hit myself with the final reminder:

It’s already set. Done deal. He loves me, and I can’t convince him otherwise. No amount of “but do you know about…?” can alter his opinion. He sees everything. He knows things about me that I don’t even know about me. And he still chooses for his love to be with me wherever I go. What outrageous kindness!

So this is my song to blast when I feel alone. When I don’t know what’s happening and I feel that old ache in my heart. I sing it until I believe it a little more.

“Nothing can change your mind”.