There is Hope: Coastlands

Description

In the silence of my life
Where the purple heather grows
My heart retreats into the voice I know
Into a love that never dies
Oh, my love will never die

In the ruins of past days
Lies an ancient love so old
Where footprints fade upon the changing sand
There is a love that still remains
Oh, my love will still remain

In the coastlands of my life
through the cold northeast wind
I have a joy that warms my soul
In the coastlands of these days
through the baron noise of dreams
I have a love that leads me home
Oh, my love will lead me home

In the morning still to come
Heavens treasures are revealed
Oh, depths of grace deeper than the sea
Oh, depths of Love calling to me
Oh, my love calls out to me

In the Silence of My Life
There are seasons in life that feel uniquely silent— moments when stillness is not just the absence of noise, but the absence of dreams, direction, and clarity. It is a strange quietness, almost holy in its weight. Just as the purple heather on the moors mirrors the ending of summer and the gentle arrival of autumn, so these silent seasons reflect times of rest, surrender, and soul-level reflection.

Yet it is often in these very still moments that God speaks with the greatest clarity. Silence becomes sanctuary. Stillness becomes invitation. These are the moments when we retreat into the voice we know—the steady, unchanging voice of God. His voice remains even when we wander, even when we feel lost, even when hope feels slow to rise. It is the voice that was, and is, and is yet to come—never absent, never failing, merely waiting for us to quiet the noise so we may hear Him again.

In the ruins of past days
Reflection inevitably leads us back—back to places of disappointment, mistakes, and the crumbling ruins of choices we wish we could change. But when we dare to look honestly, we also discover a thread of mercy woven through every season.
“Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life” (Psalm 23:6).

Even in the ruins, God has never let go.
Within the ashes of old hopes lies a flickering ember—small, fragile, but alive. It only takes the breath of God to awaken it into flame.

Just like the ruins of Whitby Abbey, though the footprints have changed upon the changing sands of the 21st century, there is a love that still remains. The prayers of past generations still echo. The work of God still stands and the love of God still endures—untouched by time, untouched by failure, untouched by human frailty.
In the Coastlands of My Life.

In 2001, I left the familiar rhythm of the city of York and stepped into a new call along the Yorkshire coast. It led me from Bridlington to Scarborough and now to Robin Hood’s Bay, (just south of Whitby), The coastlands reflect the prophetic nature of a God that lives with those on the edges, the marginalised, the forgotten, the overlooked, the weary.

Anyone who has lived by or visited the Yorkshire coast will know that when the north-east wind blows—summer or winter—it chills straight through to the bone.
Yet beyond its harshness lies a raw, breathtaking beauty—cliffs carved by centuries, horizons that calm the soul, seas that speak of mystery and wonder.

In the coastlands of these days, often marked by small towns burdened with deprivation and barren dreams, there is still a love that leads us home.

The Holy Spirit moves across these shores—not as a cold arctic wind, but as the restoring wind of God, the One who heals and rebuilds “the places long devastated” (Isaiah 61). It is a love that carries us home.

In the Morning Still to Come
As I reflect on the coastlands, there is a morning still to come—one that will reveal the fullness of the treasures God has prepared for us. These treasures are not earned through our strength or effort, but given freely through the grace of Christ.

There is a depth of love—deeper than the sea—that calls to us. Calls us by name. Calls us into hope. Calls us to trust again.

For at the edges of our lives, where land meets sea, where our troubled souls battle against the raging sea of judgment, there is a love that steadies us. A love that leads us safely home. A love that will not let us go.

Prayer
In the silence of our lives, speak to us. Open our ears to hear Your voice more clearly, and our eyes to see Your hand at work all around us. Reveal more of who You are, and show us the treasure still to come—the grace, love, and hope You have prepared. Help us to recognise Your presence in the quiet, and to follow where Your Spirit leads.