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  • Week 1: Unrecognised

    1 Nov 2026
    Devotions
    Week 1: Unrecognised

    They stood still, looking sad. (Luke 24:17)

    Introduction to the Week

    Not every road is a road we choose.

    The Emmaus road began in disappointment. Two disciples walked away from Jerusalem carrying broken hopes and unanswered questions. They did not know that the risen Christ was beside them.

    November can feel like that. We carry memories, losses, worries and regrets. Yet the Emmaus story reminds us that God is often closest when he seems furthest away.

    This week we will explore the quiet places where sadness and grace meet.


    The Quiet Tear

    They stood still, looking sad. Luke 24:17

    Selah

    Be still and know…

    Before you read any further, pause.

    Take a slow breath.

    What sadness are you carrying today? What disappointment has settled quietly within you?

    Do not try to fix it or explain it.

    Simply place it before God.

    Be still and know that I am God. Psalm 46:10

    Reflection

    The Emmaus story begins with sadness.

    Not faith. Not hope. Not understanding.

    Sadness.

    The two disciples stop in the middle of the road. Their dreams have collapsed. Their expectations have been shattered. They had believed Jesus would change everything, and now all they have are questions.

    Perhaps that is why so many people love this story. It speaks honestly about life.

    Most of us know what it feels like to stand still looking sad.

    A diagnosis changes everything.

    A beloved person dies.

    A friendship ends.

    A door closes.

    A prayer seems unanswered.

    Yet what the disciples do not know is what Luke’s readers do know. Jesus is already there. Before their questions are answered. Before their hearts are healed. Before hope returns.

    The risen Christ is already walking beside them.

    Sometimes we imagine that we must be strong before we come to God. The Emmaus road tells a different story. God comes to us while we are sad, confused and weary.

    Your tears do not keep God away.

    They may be the place where you discover he has been beside you all along.

    Prayer

    Lord Jesus, you know every sorrow I carry. Walk beside me today. Help me to trust your presence, even when I cannot see you. Amen.

    Road Question

    What sadness do I need to place in God’s hands today?

    Emmaus Refrain

    Were not our hearts burning within us while he talked with us on the road?

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  • God Sees Her

    31 Oct 2026
    book review
    God Sees Her

    365 Devotions for Women by Women

    by Our Daily Bread Ministries

    A book review

    #GodSeesHer #NetGalley

    What Is This Book?

    Sometimes what we need most is not an answer but the reassurance that we have been noticed.

    That is the simple idea at the heart of God Sees Her, a collection of 365 short devotions written by women for women. Its central message is that the God who created the universe is neither remote nor indifferent. God sees the joys, struggles, disappointments and ordinary details of our lives, and all of them matter.

    Each daily reading brings together Scripture with a story or experience from everyday life, offering encouragement that God’s presence is not confined to the obviously spiritual moments.

    It is a straightforward devotional format, designed to be accessible rather than demanding. But perhaps there is something particularly appropriate about that simplicity. After all, most of our lives are not lived in dramatic moments. They are lived in kitchens and workplaces, conversations and car journeys, responsibilities and unfinished jobs.

    A devotional book which wants to find God there is beginning in an interesting place.

    Who Is It For?

    The book describes itself as “365 Devotions for Women by Women”, and the contributions are intended to speak into women’s experiences of difficulties, joys and everyday faith.

    That shared voice may be significant for readers who appreciate hearing other women reflect honestly upon their lives with God.

    Yet the sample supplied, “Overcoming Challenges”, is interesting precisely because its subject is so ordinary.

    It begins with a dining chair.

    The writer tells of a friend who intended to reupholster her chairs. Finding the material and making time took months. The actual job took two hours.

    There is something wonderfully recognisable about that. How many tasks become enormous simply because we have spent far longer contemplating them than doing them?

    From there the reflection moves to Nehemiah and the rebuilding of Jerusalem’s walls.

    The scale changes dramatically, but the underlying question remains: how do we face a task that feels daunting?

    What Works?

    I like the ordinariness of the opening.

    Devotional writing can sometimes feel as though every cup of coffee or missed bus must contain a profound spiritual lesson. Here, however, the unfinished chairs provide a simple and recognisable entry point into a larger reflection about perseverance.

    The move to Nehemiah gives the devotion its biblical centre. The writer does not suggest that reupholstering chairs and rebuilding Jerusalem are equivalent challenges. Rather, the everyday story opens a door into considering what enables people to persevere when something appears difficult.

    The conclusion emphasises calling and God’s provision: when God entrusts us with something, we are not left entirely dependent upon our own resources.

    The brevity works too. There is enough substance to give the reader something to carry into the day without requiring a considerable block of time.

    That accessibility matters in a daily devotional.

    What Gave Me Pause?

    The title God Sees Her makes a substantial promise, and I think the most important test of the collection is whether the 365 entries allow that promise to remain spacious.

    Being seen by God should surely include being seen when we are productive and when we are not.

    The sample devotion focuses upon overcoming a challenge and completing a task. That can be encouraging. But there are also challenges we cannot overcome through determination. Sometimes the illness remains. The relationship is not restored. The hoped-for opportunity never appears. The task is not completed despite our best efforts.

    In those circumstances, “God sees her” becomes even more important.

    I would therefore hope the collection makes plenty of room for lament, uncertainty, waiting and unanswered prayer alongside stories of perseverance and achievement.

    God’s presence cannot depend upon a successful outcome.

    Does the Format Work?

    A 365-day devotional inevitably asks more of a reader than a shorter collection. Few people will approach every day in precisely the same way, though.

    That may actually be part of its usefulness.

    Some entries will be read quickly over breakfast. Others may connect with something happening in the reader’s life and remain with them for much longer.

    The short format also means the book is unlikely to be the place for detailed biblical study. Its role is more modest: providing a daily point of contact with Scripture and an invitation to reflect.

    At its best, a devotion should leave us wanting to return to the biblical passage itself rather than feeling that the writer has said everything there is to say about it.

    Would I Actually Use It?

    Yes, particularly as a book to dip into as well as one to read consecutively.

    There is something appealing about a devotional that does not require an elaborate routine. Open the book, read the day’s reflection, notice what catches your attention, and perhaps allow that thought to travel with you.

    I could also imagine individual readings being useful in pastoral conversations or women’s groups. An everyday story can sometimes open a conversation more easily than beginning with a theological proposition.

    And that may be one of the collection’s quiet strengths. Its theology emerges from ordinary life rather than floating somewhere above it.

    The Verdict

    God Sees Her offers a year’s worth of relatively small encounters with a very large idea: that our lives are lived in the presence of a God who notices.

    The sample devotion shows the accessibility of the approach well. An unfinished household project leads into Nehemiah, perseverance, calling and dependence upon God without becoming unnecessarily complicated.

    But the title remains the part that stays with me.

    There are days when encouragement to overcome another challenge is exactly what we need.

    There are other days when we do not need another challenge at all. We simply need to know that amid the unfinished work, unanswered questions and ordinary messiness of life, we have not disappeared from God’s view.

    If God Sees Her can keep bringing its readers back to that truth throughout its 365 days, then this little book may offer something rather bigger than its size suggests.

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  • God Sees Her for Girls

    31 Oct 2026
    book review
    God Sees Her for Girls

    90 Faith-Building Devotions

    by Our Daily Bread Ministries

    A Book Review

    #GodSeesHerforGirls #NetGalley

    What Is This Book?

    The preteen years can be an awkward in-between space. Childhood has not entirely disappeared, adolescence is approaching rapidly, and suddenly questions about friendship, belonging, confidence, identity and faith can feel much bigger than they once did.

    God Sees Her for Girls enters that space with a wonderfully simple message: God sees you, knows you and values you.

    Designed as a 90-day devotional, the book uses short Bible readings, stories, questions and prayers to encourage girls to begin developing a devotional life of their own. The subjects include faith, friendships and feelings, with the underlying emphasis on discovering identity and worth in God’s love rather than in the pressure to be perfect.

    That makes this more than simply a children’s book containing Bible stories. It is attempting to help a young person begin taking responsibility for their own relationship with God.

    And that is an important transition.

    Who Is It For?

    The book is aimed specifically at preteen girls, and both the language and presentation clearly reflect that intended audience.

    Crucially, however, the sample devotion does not talk down to its reader.

    “Creation’s Song” begins with the fascinating idea of trees communicating through networks involving fungi around their roots. It moves through dolphins, dung beetles, forests and the night sky before connecting the wonder of creation with biblical passages from Psalms and Job.

    There is playfulness here, including the wonderfully appropriate “Woah!” after discovering that dung beetles can navigate using the stars.

    But there is also substance.

    The reader is not simply told what to believe. The devotion ends with a question: “How can you find your own unique way to give God glory?”

    That movement from information to Scripture to personal reflection is particularly well suited to this age group.

    What Works?

    Perhaps the most immediately successful feature is its accessibility.

    The pages are colourful without appearing babyish. Illustrations, generous spacing, varied typography and relatively short sections make the material feel manageable. For a reluctant reader, presentation can make the difference between a devotional book being opened regularly and being quietly abandoned on a shelf.

    The conversational tone also works well.

    The creation devotion begins with something genuinely interesting rather than immediately announcing a spiritual lesson. Curiosity becomes the doorway into theology.

    I particularly like that instinct.

    Faith is presented not simply as a collection of answers but as a way of looking at the world with curiosity and wonder.

    There is also a helpful rhythm within the devotion. Scripture appears throughout rather than being added almost as an afterthought. The closing question invites reflection, there is a short prayer, and finally a suggestion for further Bible reading.

    The devotion therefore has several possible stopping places. A reader could complete it quickly or allow the question and additional Scripture to take them further.

    What Gave Me Pause?

    The language of girls being under pressure to be “perfect” immediately caught my attention.

    That is an important issue, but I would want a book like this to be careful about the solution it offers.

    Telling young people that their value comes from God rather than appearance, achievement or other people’s approval can be deeply affirming. But Christian faith itself can sometimes unintentionally become another arena for performance: Am I praying enough? Am I good enough? Is my faith strong enough?

    A devotional centred upon being seen and loved by God has a wonderful opportunity to counter that.

    I would therefore hope that across the 90 days there is room not just for encouragement to become confident and faithful, but for uncertainty, mistakes, awkwardness and questions.

    A girl should not finish a book about escaping the pressure to be perfect with a new pressure to become the perfect Christian girl.

    Grace needs to be bigger than that.

    Does the Format Work?

    Yes, I think the 90-day format is one of the book’s strengths.

    A full year can feel like an enormous commitment for someone beginning devotional reading. Ninety days feels much more achievable while still being long enough to establish a pattern.

    The varied ingredients also help: an interesting opening, Scripture, reflection, question, prayer and further reading.

    Importantly, the book encourages interaction rather than passive reading.

    The question at the end of “Creation’s Song” does not have one correct answer. That allows the young reader to bring something of themselves to the page.

    That is exactly the kind of habit I would want a devotional book to develop.

    Would I Actually Use It?

    Yes.

    I could imagine giving this to a preteen who is beginning to move from Bible material chosen and explained by adults towards exploring faith independently.

    I can also see value in an adult and child occasionally discussing an entry together. The publisher specifically hopes the book will encourage honest conversations, and the open questions provide natural opportunities for that without turning devotional time into an interrogation.

    For those involved in children’s or youth ministry, individual themes could also provide useful jumping-off points for conversation.

    But perhaps its greatest value is quieter than that.

    It gives a young person something that is theirs: their book, their questions, their prayers and the beginnings of their own devotional rhythm.

    The Verdict

    God Sees Her for Girls is attractive, approachable and thoughtfully pitched.

    The sample devotion demonstrates the book at its best: beginning with curiosity about the world, moving naturally towards Scripture and then turning the question gently back towards the reader.

    But the title may contain its most important message.

    God sees her.

    In years when young people can become increasingly conscious of how they are seen by friends, family and the wider world, there is something powerful about being reminded that their deepest value does not depend upon popularity, appearance, achievement or perfection.

    A good children’s devotional should do more than tell young people things about God. It should give them confidence to begin discovering God for themselves.

    God Sees Her for Girls looks designed to help them take those first steps.

    A page with the title "Day 6: Creation's Song," featuring a Psalm citation, and a description of how trees communicate and support each other in a forest ecosystem. The design includes colorful illustrations of leaves and nature motifs.
    An inspirational piece discussing the connection between creation and God's glory, featuring text about the earth, animals, and a call to recognize unique ways to honor God.
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  • Grace, Mercy, Love, Peace & Hope: Living the Story

    31 Oct 2026
    Devotions
    Grace, Mercy, Love, Peace & Hope: Living the Story

    “And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.”
    1 Corinthians 13:13

    Thirty-one days ago, we began with five words.

    Grace.
    Mercy.
    Love.
    Peace.
    Hope.

    They were familiar words.

    Perhaps they still are.

    But hopefully, after carrying them with us through this month, they mean something a little more now.

    Grace reminded us that we don’t have to earn everything.

    Mercy met us in the places where we got things wrong.

    Love reminded us that before anything is asked of us, we are loved.

    Peace invited us to breathe, to trust, and then to carry something gentler into the world.

    And hope whispered that even when we cannot see what comes next, God is not finished.

    But these aren’t simply five words for October.

    They are words for the journey.

    Tomorrow will bring another month.

    There will be ordinary days and unexpected ones.

    There will be things that make us laugh and things that make us worry.

    There will be people who need us.

    And there will be days when we need someone else.

    So perhaps we finish where we began.

    With five words.

    Only now, let’s carry them with us.

    Receive grace.
    Show mercy.
    Choose love.
    Carry peace.
    Hold onto hope.

    And wherever tomorrow takes you, remember this:

    God goes with you.

    Carry this today

    Receive grace. Show mercy. Choose love. Carry peace. Hold onto hope.

    Prayer

    God of grace, mercy, love, peace and hope,
    thank you for walking with me through this month.
    Let these be more than words I know.
    Let them shape the way I live,
    the way I see others,
    and the way I face whatever comes next.

    And as one month ends
    and another begins,
    help me to keep walking with you.
    Amen.

    Autumn writing scene with coffee, open notebook, Bible, and cards reading “grace,” “love,” “mercy,” “peace,” and “hope.”
    A cozy autumn writing scene pairs coffee, handwritten notes, and words of faith by the window.
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  • Carrying Hope for Others

    30 Oct 2026
    Devotions
    Carrying Hope for Others

    Main passage: Romans 15:1–13

    Key verse: Romans 15:13
    “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him.”

    Sometimes hope needs company.

    There are seasons when we can carry our own hope quite well.

    We can see possibilities.

    We can imagine things getting better.

    We can pray with confidence and look towards tomorrow expecting that somehow God will meet us there.

    And then there are other seasons.

    Times when hope feels heavy.

    Times when somebody says, “It’ll be all right,” and we aren’t remotely convinced that it will.

    Times when even praying feels like hard work.

    Perhaps that is when we need somebody else to carry a little hope for us.

    Paul begins this chapter by talking about bearing with one another.

    He writes about the strong supporting the weak.

    About not simply pleasing ourselves.

    About building one another up.

    And then, towards the end, comes this beautiful prayer:

    “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him.”

    The God of hope.

    I love that description.

    Hope isn’t something we have to manufacture.

    Its source is God.

    And perhaps sometimes God gives that hope to us through another person.

    Think about the people who have done that for you.

    Someone who believed in you when you didn’t particularly believe in yourself.

    Someone who saw possibility when all you could see was a dead end.

    Someone who sat beside you when there were no useful words.

    Someone who prayed when you couldn’t pray.

    Someone who said:

    “I’m here.”

    “I haven’t forgotten.”

    “We’ll take this one day at a time.”

    Sometimes those are holy words.

    We often imagine encouragement as saying something profound.

    Usually it isn’t.

    Sometimes encouragement is a cup of tea.

    A message.

    A lift somewhere.

    A meal appearing at the door.

    Remembering an anniversary that might be difficult.

    Making somebody laugh.

    Sitting quietly.

    Turning up.

    Again.

    Hope often arrives wearing very ordinary clothes.

    And perhaps that’s because when life is difficult, grand speeches aren’t usually what we need.

    We need presence.

    Paul’s words are not addressed to isolated individuals trying desperately to remain hopeful on their own.

    They are written to a community.

    People learning to live together.

    People carrying one another.

    There is something deeply Christian about that.

    We don’t have to hope alone.

    There may be days when my faith is strong and yours is struggling.

    I can carry some hope for you.

    There may be days when I cannot see much beyond the next hour.

    Then perhaps you carry some hope for me.

    That’s community.

    That’s church at its best.

    Not a gathering of people who have everything sorted.

    Not people competing to look the most faithful.

    Just ordinary human beings reminding one another:

    God is still here.

    This month we have travelled through grace, mercy, love, peace and now hope.

    By this stage something becomes clear.

    None of these gifts is meant simply to stop with us.

    We receive grace and become gracious.

    We receive mercy and show mercy.

    We are loved and learn to love.

    We receive peace and become peacemakers.

    And we receive hope so that, sometimes, we can carry hope into someone else’s darkness.

    Maybe there is somebody in your life who needs that today.

    You don’t need to fix their situation.

    Please hear that.

    Carrying hope for someone does not mean pretending you know how their story will turn out.

    It doesn’t mean promising that everything will be fine.

    It certainly doesn’t mean explaining why God has allowed something difficult to happen.

    It simply means refusing to let them stand there alone.

    Perhaps your prayer becomes:

    God, they can’t see very far ahead at the moment. Help me stand beside them until they can.

    There is another lovely detail in Paul’s prayer.

    He asks that God would fill people with joy and peace so that they might overflow with hope.

    Overflow.

    That’s a wonderful picture.

    Hope received becoming hope shared.

    Enough for me.

    And perhaps, today, enough to spill over towards you.

    A Question to Carry

    Who in my life might need me to carry a little hope for them at the moment?

    A Simple Practice

    Choose one person today.

    Send a message.

    Make the phone call.

    Drop something round.

    Pray for them.

    Don’t try to fix anything.

    Simply let them know:

    “I was thinking about you today.”

    Sometimes that is enough to let a little light in.

    Prayer

    God of hope,

    thank you for the people
    who have carried hope for me.

    For those who stayed,
    listened,
    prayed
    and reminded me that I was not alone.

    Show me someone today
    who needs that same gift.

    Give me wisdom not to offer easy answers.

    Help me simply to be present.

    Fill me with your joy and peace
    until hope begins to overflow
    into the lives of others.

    Amen.

    For today: Carry hope for someone else.

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  • Reasons to Hope

    29 Oct 2026
    Devotions
    Reasons to Hope

    Main passage: 1 Peter 1:3–9

    Key verse: 1 Peter 1:3
    “In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead.”

    There are times when hope comes easily.

    The sun is shining.

    Things are going reasonably well.

    Plans are working out.

    People are behaving themselves.

    You know, those rare and precious days.

    And then there are days when someone says, “You just have to stay hopeful,” and you feel like replying:

    Do I?

    Because sometimes hope feels like hard work.

    When we’re tired, disappointed or worried, simply telling ourselves to be hopeful isn’t necessarily much help.

    We need a reason.

    Peter gives us one.

    And it is enormous.

    Resurrection.

    He describes our faith as a “living hope” because it is rooted in the resurrection of Jesus Christ.

    I love that phrase.

    Living hope.

    Not vague optimism.

    Not pretending.

    Not forcing ourselves to look on the bright side.

    Living hope.

    Hope that breathes.

    Hope that grows.

    Hope that somehow survives.

    And its foundation isn’t our ability to remain positive.

    It is something God has already done.

    Jesus was raised from the dead.

    Death looked final.

    It wasn’t.

    The stone looked like the end of the story.

    It wasn’t.

    Friday looked like defeat.

    It wasn’t.

    God was still at work.

    There is something wonderfully stubborn about Christian hope.

    It looks at endings and whispers:

    Maybe God isn’t finished yet.

    That doesn’t mean every disappointment will be magically reversed.

    It doesn’t mean every story will have the ending we would choose.

    But resurrection teaches us something fundamental about God.

    God brings life where we thought there could only be death.

    God creates beginnings in places that look like endings.

    God can write another chapter.

    Perhaps that is why Peter can talk about joy while also acknowledging suffering.

    He isn’t writing to people for whom everything is lovely.

    There are trials.

    There are difficulties.

    Faith is being tested.

    Yet hope remains alive.

    That’s important.

    Because sometimes we imagine hope means denying the darkness.

    Christian hope does exactly the opposite.

    Easter doesn’t pretend Good Friday didn’t happen.

    The risen Jesus still bears the wounds.

    Hope doesn’t erase the painful parts of our story.

    It tells us they are not the whole story.

    Maybe that’s what some of us need to hear today.

    This thing you are facing matters.

    Your disappointment matters.

    Your grief matters.

    Your questions matter.

    But the story is bigger than what you can see today.

    There may also be another way of remembering our reasons for hope.

    Look backwards.

    Think about the times you wondered how you would cope, and somehow you did.

    The prayer that was answered differently than you expected.

    The person who appeared at just the right moment.

    The strength that came when you thought you had none left.

    The door that closed and, eventually, another that opened.

    The unexpected kindness.

    The second chance.

    The moment when you realised:

    I have come through something I never thought I could.

    These become little markers along the road.

    Not proof that life will always be easy.

    But reminders that God has been faithful before.

    And if God has been faithful before, perhaps I can trust God with today.

    Our greatest reason for hope, though, is not anything that has happened to us.

    It is what happened to Jesus.

    Christ is risen.

    And because resurrection is part of our story, despair never gets the final word.

    The circumstances may be uncertain.

    The road ahead may not be visible.

    There may still be questions without answers.

    But hope is alive.

    And perhaps today we simply need to notice it.

    A Question to Carry

    When I find it difficult to hope, what reminds me that God has been faithful before?

    A Simple Practice

    Think of three reasons for hope from your own life.

    They don’t need to be dramatic.

    Write them down.

    Then add one more:

    Christ is risen. God is not finished yet.

    Prayer

    God of living hope,

    when I struggle to see beyond today,
    remind me of resurrection.

    When something feels like an ending,
    help me trust that you may still
    be writing the story.

    Thank you for the times
    you have carried me before.

    Thank you for unexpected grace,
    new beginnings
    and second chances.

    And above everything else,
    thank you for Jesus.

    Keep hope alive in me.

    Amen.

    For today: Remember your reasons for hope.

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  • Hope When Things Go Wrong

    28 Oct 2026
    Devotions
    Hope When Things Go Wrong

    Main passage: Romans 8:18–28

    Key verse: Romans 8:28
    “In all things God works for the good of those who love him.”

    There are some days when things simply go wrong.

    Not dramatically wrong, necessarily.

    Sometimes it starts with something small.

    You oversleep.

    You spill the coffee.

    You can’t find the thing you definitely put somewhere safe.

    The car makes a noise that cars really shouldn’t make.

    Someone sends a message that completely changes the day you thought you were going to have.

    Those days are frustrating.

    But then there are the other days.

    The days when wrong isn’t merely inconvenient.

    Something happens that hurts.

    Something changes that we didn’t want to change.

    A door closes.

    Someone disappoints us.

    We receive news we weren’t expecting.

    We lose something precious.

    And suddenly hope can feel much harder to find.

    Romans 8:28 is one of those verses Christians often reach for at such moments:

    “In all things God works for the good…”

    It is a wonderful promise.

    But I think we need to handle it carefully.

    Because Paul does not say that all things are good.

    They aren’t.

    Some things are desperately painful.

    Some things are unfair.

    Some things leave us confused, angry or heartbroken.

    Faith doesn’t require us to paste the word good over something that plainly isn’t.

    In fact, earlier in this same passage Paul talks about creation groaning.

    That’s quite a word.

    Groaning.

    Not smiling bravely.

    Not pretending.

    Groaning.

    Paul describes a world that isn’t yet as it should be.

    And we know something about that.

    We see brokenness around us.

    Sometimes we experience it within us.

    Paul even says that there are moments when we don’t know what to pray.

    I find that wonderfully reassuring.

    Apparently not knowing what to say to God is still part of the life of faith.

    Sometimes prayer is beautifully worded.

    Sometimes prayer is:

    “God, I don’t know.”

    Sometimes it’s tears.

    Sometimes silence.

    Sometimes all we’ve got is:

    “Help.”

    And Paul says that even there, the Spirit is at work.

    That changes Romans 8:28 for me.

    It isn’t a cheerful slogan shouted from the safe side of someone else’s suffering.

    It is a promise spoken right in the middle of the groaning.

    God is still at work.

    We might not see how.

    We might not know when.

    We may never be able to tie everything together neatly and say, “Ah, now I understand why that happened.”

    Hope doesn’t demand that.

    Hope simply refuses to believe that the difficult thing is the only thing happening.

    God is still present.

    God is still loving.

    God is still working.

    There have probably been moments in your own life when something didn’t go according to plan, yet looking back you can see that something unexpected grew there.

    Strength you didn’t know you had.

    People who stood beside you.

    A change in direction.

    Greater compassion.

    A deeper dependence on God.

    That doesn’t make the painful thing good.

    It means the painful thing did not get the final word.

    And perhaps that’s one of the most powerful things about Christian hope.

    The worst thing is never the last thing.

    We are resurrection people.

    We follow the Christ whose story appeared to end with a cross, while God was still writing resurrection.

    That doesn’t mean every problem will disappear by Friday.

    It means we dare to believe God can still bring life from places that look barren.

    So if today has gone wrong, or if you’re carrying something much bigger that has been wrong for a long time, you don’t need to pretend.

    Groan if you need to.

    Cry if you need to.

    Ask questions.

    Pray badly.

    Sit silently.

    Hope doesn’t require a smile.

    Sometimes hope is simply whispering:

    “God, I cannot see what you are doing here, but I trust that you have not left.”

    And for today, perhaps that is enough.

    A Question to Carry

    Where have I assumed that because I cannot see God at work, God must not be working?

    A Simple Practice

    Think of one situation that hasn’t turned out as you hoped.

    Open your hands and pray:

    “God, I don’t have to call this good. But I trust you to be at work even here.”

    Then leave it with God for today.

    Prayer

    God of hope,

    there are things in life
    I simply do not understand.

    Things I would change if I could.
    Things that hurt.
    Things that have not turned out
    the way I hoped.

    Thank you that I don’t have to pretend.

    When I don’t know what to pray,
    meet me in the silence.

    When I cannot see what you are doing,
    help me trust that you are still here.

    Take what is broken
    and, in ways I may not yet see,
    bring your goodness and grace.

    Keep hope alive in me.

    Amen.

    For today: Trust that God is still at work.

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  • Hope When We’re Waiting

    27 Oct 2026
    Devotions
    Hope When We’re Waiting

    “Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord.”
    Psalm 27:14

    Waiting is hard.

    Waiting for news.

    Waiting for something to change.

    Waiting for an answer.

    Waiting for a door to open.

    Waiting for life to look different from the way it looks right now.

    We tend to think of waiting as empty time.

    Nothing is happening.

    Nothing is moving.

    Nothing is changing.

    But perhaps waiting with God is different.

    Hope doesn’t mean pretending that the waiting is easy.

    It means believing that the waiting is not the whole story.

    Sometimes we can see what God is doing.

    Sometimes we can’t.

    And that can be frustrating.

    We would much rather have answers.

    A date.

    A plan.

    A nice clear sign telling us what happens next.

    But often faith asks us to live without those things.

    To trust.

    To keep going.

    To believe that God is still present, even here.

    If you are waiting for something today, you don’t need to pretend that it doesn’t matter.

    Bring the waiting to God.

    Bring the questions too.

    And then, perhaps, simply pray:

    God, help me to trust you while I wait.

    Carry this today

    Waiting does not mean God has forgotten me.

    Prayer

    God of hope,
    you know the things I am waiting for
    and the answers I wish I had.
    Give me patience when the waiting is difficult,
    courage when I cannot see what comes next,
    and hope enough to trust
    that you are with me here too.
    Amen.

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  • What Are We Hoping For?

    26 Oct 2026
    Devotions
    What Are We Hoping For?

    Main passage: Romans 5:1–5

    Key verse: Romans 5:5
    “Hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts.”

    Hope is a funny little word.

    We use it all the time.

    I hope the weather holds.

    I hope they phone.

    I hope this works.

    I hope there’s something nice for dinner.

    Often what we mean is:

    I would quite like this to happen, but I have absolutely no idea whether it will.

    Christian hope is something rather different.

    It isn’t wishful thinking.

    It isn’t crossing our fingers.

    It isn’t looking at a difficult situation and insisting that everything will definitely turn out the way we want.

    Paul says:

    “Hope does not put us to shame.”

    There is a confidence in that.

    Not necessarily confidence about what will happen next.

    Confidence about God.

    And perhaps that distinction matters.

    Sometimes we attach our hope to a particular outcome.

    We hope the answer will be yes.

    We hope the test results will be good.

    We hope the relationship will mend.

    We hope the problem will disappear.

    We hope the door will open.

    And naturally we do. These things matter enormously.

    But what happens to hope when the answer isn’t the one we wanted?

    Paul writes about hope in a passage that also talks about suffering.

    That’s interesting.

    He doesn’t say that following Jesus means we won’t experience hardship.

    Instead, somehow, right there within the difficulties of life, something can grow.

    Suffering produces perseverance.

    Perseverance produces character.

    Character produces hope.

    I don’t think that means we have to look at every painful thing and say, “Wonderful! Something good will come from this.”

    Some things are simply hard.

    Some things hurt.

    Some things we would never have chosen.

    And when someone is hurting, they usually need our compassion more than they need our explanation.

    But perhaps Paul is saying that suffering does not automatically get the final word.

    Something can grow even here.

    That something is hope.

    Think about a tiny green shoot appearing through a crack in concrete.

    It shouldn’t really be there.

    The surroundings hardly look promising.

    And yet there it is.

    Life.

    Maybe hope is sometimes like that.

    Not a huge certainty.

    Not a triumphant declaration.

    Sometimes just a green shoot.

    A reason to get up this morning.

    A prayer whispered when yesterday’s prayer seemed unanswered.

    A phone call made.

    A candle lit.

    A meal cooked.

    Shoes put on.

    One more step taken.

    Hope doesn’t always shout.

    Sometimes hope simply says:

    Keep going.

    And Paul tells us why.

    Because God’s love has been poured into our hearts.

    There is our foundation.

    Our hope does not finally rest upon circumstances becoming easier.

    It rests upon the God whose love does not disappear when circumstances become difficult.

    That takes us back through everything we’ve thought about this month.

    Grace says we don’t have to earn God’s welcome.

    Mercy says our failures aren’t the end.

    Love says we are held.

    Peace says we don’t face uncertainty alone.

    And now hope says:

    Therefore, keep going.

    Maybe today your hope feels strong.

    Wonderful.

    Carry some for somebody else.

    Maybe today it feels rather small.

    That’s all right too.

    You don’t need enough hope for the next ten years.

    You don’t even need enough for next month.

    Perhaps you simply need enough for today.

    Sometimes faith isn’t a great leap.

    Sometimes faith is getting out of bed and saying:

    “God, I don’t know what happens next, but I’m going into this day with you.”

    That is hope too.

    There will always be uncertain things ahead of us.

    Things we cannot predict.

    Things we cannot control.

    But hope asks a different question.

    Not:

    Do I know what happens next?

    But:

    Who will be with me when it does?

    And that changes everything.

    We don’t know everything about tomorrow.

    But we know something about God.

    God is faithful.

    God is loving.

    God is present.

    So perhaps hope isn’t pretending we can see the whole road.

    Perhaps it is simply trusting enough to take the next step.

    A Question to Carry

    What am I putting my hope in at the moment, an outcome I want, or the God who will be with me whatever happens?

    A Simple Practice

    Find something green today.

    A tree.

    A plant.

    Grass pushing through concrete.

    Pause when you see it and let it remind you:

    Hope can grow in unlikely places.

    Then name one situation where you need hope.

    Prayer

    God of hope,

    I do not know everything
    that lies ahead.

    There are things I long for,
    things I worry about,
    and things I cannot control.

    Help me not to confuse hope
    with having everything turn out my way.

    Root my hope instead
    in your goodness,
    your presence
    and your love.

    When hope feels small,
    help me take the next step.

    And when my hope is strong,
    help me carry hope for someone else.

    Amen.

    For today: Take the next step in hope.

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  • The Peace of Christ

    25 Oct 2026
    Devotions
    The Peace of Christ

    Main passage: Colossians 3:12–17

    Key verse: Colossians 3:15
    “Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts.”

    There are mornings when deciding what to wear takes no thought at all.

    You grab whatever is clean, suitable for the weather and reasonably presentable, and off you go.

    But Paul has an interesting idea about getting dressed.

    He tells us to clothe ourselves.

    Not with jumpers, jackets or anything else from the wardrobe, but with:

    Compassion.

    Kindness.

    Humility.

    Gentleness.

    Patience.

    Imagine choosing those before we leave the house.

    Right. Keys? Yes.

    Phone? Yes.

    Patience? Ah.

    Might need to go back for that.

    Paul is writing about what life looks like when Christ begins to shape us. And you quickly notice that almost everything he mentions is about relationships.

    Bear with one another.

    Forgive one another.

    Love one another.

    Be thankful.

    And then, right in the middle of it all, he says:

    “Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts.”

    The word let catches my attention.

    It suggests that peace is something we can make room for.

    There are plenty of other things queueing up to rule our hearts.

    Fear would happily do it.

    So would resentment.

    Worry is usually available.

    Anger often volunteers.

    We can allow an irritating conversation from yesterday to occupy our thoughts for most of today without the other person even knowing they are there.

    But Paul says:

    Let the peace of Christ rule.

    Perhaps that means allowing the peace of Jesus to have the deciding voice.

    When anxiety says, “Everything is going to go wrong,” peace says, “God is here.”

    When resentment says, “Hold onto this,” peace asks, “Is it time to let this go?”

    When anger says, “Say something right now,” peace sometimes whispers, “Wait.”

    When we feel pressure to solve everything immediately, peace reminds us that not everything needs to be solved today.

    Over this past week we’ve thought about peace in noise.

    Peace in storms.

    Stillness.

    Peace within ourselves.

    Peace with others.

    Peacemaking.

    And perhaps this is where it has all been leading.

    Not simply towards having peaceful moments, but towards allowing the peace of Christ to shape us.

    There is a difference.

    A peaceful moment may depend on our surroundings.

    The music is gentle.

    The candles are lit.

    Nobody needs anything.

    The phone isn’t ringing.

    Lovely.

    But the peace of Christ has to work in less ideal conditions too.

    It has to come with us into kitchens and cars and meetings and queues and difficult conversations.

    It needs to survive interruptions.

    That’s the sort of peace Paul is talking about.

    Peace we wear.

    Peace we practise.

    Peace that gradually becomes part of who we are.

    And then Paul adds something easily missed:

    “And be thankful.”

    Gratitude and peace seem to belong together.

    Perhaps because gratitude brings us back to what is already here.

    This breath.

    This day.

    This person.

    This meal.

    This small kindness.

    This glimpse of beauty.

    This evidence of grace.

    Gratitude doesn’t pretend there aren’t difficult things.

    It simply refuses to allow the difficult things to become the whole story.

    And that feels like a fitting place to finish our week of peace.

    You don’t have to create peace from nothing.

    Christ gives peace.

    Our invitation is to make room for it.

    To let it rule.

    To let it change the way we speak, respond, forgive, wait and live.

    Tomorrow we begin thinking about Hope.

    But maybe hope grows more easily in a heart that has learned something about peace.

    So before moving on, pause.

    Take a breath.

    You do not have to carry everything.

    You do not have to solve everything.

    You do not have to know what happens next.

    Let the peace of Christ rule in your heart.

    A Question to Carry

    What have I allowed to rule my heart lately, and what might change if I gave Christ’s peace that place instead?

    A Simple Practice

    Before you leave home today, imagine putting on the things Paul names:

    Compassion. Kindness. Humility. Gentleness. Patience. Love. Peace.

    Choose one that you particularly need today and carry that word with you.

    Prayer

    Jesus,
    thank you for your peace.

    When fear tries to rule me,
    give me peace.

    When irritation rises,
    give me gentleness.

    When old hurts return,
    give me grace.

    When I cannot control what happens next,
    teach me to trust.

    Let your peace rule in my heart
    and travel with me
    wherever I go today.

    Amen.

    For today: Let the peace of Christ rule.

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  • Forgive Me If I Was Rude: The Art of Having Complicated, Faith-Based Conversations

    24 Oct 2026
    book review
    Forgive Me If I Was Rude: The Art of Having Complicated, Faith-Based Conversations

    by Emanuel Lambert

    A Book Review

    #ForgiveMeIfIWasRude #NetGalley

    What Is This Book Trying to Do?

    There are conversations many of us would rather avoid.

    We know the subjects. Faith. Morality. Sexuality. Truth. The things about which people hold deeply rooted convictions and where a badly chosen sentence can turn a conversation into an argument remarkably quickly.

    Forgive Me If I Was Rude begins in that uncomfortable space.

    Emanuel Lambert sets out to provide Christians with a framework for having difficult conversations without sacrificing either conviction or relationship. The premise is attractive. How do we tell the truth as we understand it while treating the person sitting opposite us with genuine compassion?

    This is not simply a book about finding better arguments. It also promises help with remaining physically and emotionally grounded when discussions become tense. Each chapter concludes with a “Curious Conversation”, modelling an exchange between a Christian and a sceptic, including objections, responses and rebuttals.

    There is much here that feels timely. But there are also some important questions to ask.

    Why Do We Find These Conversations So Difficult?

    Perhaps because the stakes are higher than we sometimes acknowledge.

    What I regard as an interesting theological question may touch very personally on somebody else’s life, relationships or identity. Something I approach as an idea to be discussed may be something the other person experiences much closer to home.

    Then there is the fear of disagreement itself.

    We can become frightened of saying the wrong thing, frightened of being misunderstood, or so determined not to offend that meaningful conversation never takes place at all. At the opposite extreme, Christians can confuse boldness with bluntness and congratulate themselves for “speaking truth” without asking whether they have spoken it lovingly.

    A book that helps us negotiate that territory could therefore be valuable.

    The Framework: Does It Actually Help?

    There is much to commend in the concept Lambert offers.

    Confidence in difficult conversations does not have to mean becoming more forceful. Learning to remain calm, listening carefully and thinking about how we communicate rather than merely what we communicate are worthwhile disciplines.

    I am particularly interested in the book’s modelled “Curious Conversations”. There is considerable value in seeing an approach demonstrated rather than simply being given principles.

    But model conversations also present a difficulty.

    Real people rarely follow scripts.

    They don’t necessarily raise the objection we have prepared for. They bring experiences, hurts, assumptions and histories into conversations with them. A beautifully constructed answer may be logically impeccable and still fail to address what the person is really asking.

    So the usefulness of these examples will depend, for me, on whether they teach readers how to listen, rather than simply providing answers to remember.

    Truth and Relationship

    This is where the book’s central challenge becomes particularly interesting.

    Do we really have to choose between truth and relationship?

    Christian conversation surely requires more than choosing the right words with which to deliver a predetermined conclusion. It requires humility, including the possibility that while my convictions may be firmly held, my understanding is not exhaustive.

    Jesus’ encounters with people repeatedly remind Christians that truth is never merely information. The manner in which we encounter another human being matters.

    That does not require pretending disagreement does not exist. Genuine relationships should be capable of carrying disagreement.

    But preserving a relationship cannot simply become a communication technique. If kindness is being employed primarily because it increases my chances of persuading somebody, it is no longer quite the same thing as kindness.

    The other person must matter irrespective of whether that person ever agrees with me.

    Conversation or Conversion?

    The publisher describes the goal as not “to win arguments but to win hearts”. I understand what that expression is trying to convey, but it is the phrase that gives me greatest pause. What happens if I enter every conversation believing that my task is ultimately to win something? Am I truly listening to understand the person sitting opposite me, or am I listening for the opening through which I can make my case?

    There is an important distinction.

    Christian faith is naturally something Christians want to share. There is nothing inherently wrong with persuasion. But conversation becomes something different if one participant unknowingly becomes the object of the other’s strategy. Sometimes a faithful conversation may end without resolution. Two people may understand each other better and still disagree.

    Perhaps that is not failure.

    Perhaps learning to remain in relationship across genuine difference is itself an important Christian witness.

    What Gave Me Pause?

    The subjects identified in the description include morality and sexuality, alongside religion and truth. These are areas in which abstract arguments can have deeply personal consequences.

    That makes empathy essential rather than decorative.

    I would therefore approach the sample dialogues with a particularly critical eye. Are the sceptics allowed to make genuinely difficult arguments? Are questions permitted to remain difficult? Do the conversations resemble encounters between equals, or does one participant largely exist to provide objections that the other can successfully answer?

    There is also a bigger question surrounding “biblically-based answers”.

    The desire to take Scripture seriously is commendable. But Christians themselves sometimes disagree about how particular passages should be interpreted or applied. Acknowledging that complexity need not weaken conviction. It can demonstrate intellectual and spiritual humility.

    Would I Actually Use It?

    Potentially, yes.

    As a church leader, I find the book’s central concern highly relevant. Difficult conversations are unavoidable. We need to learn how to disagree without dehumanising one another, and how to remain present when a conversation becomes uncomfortable.

    I would particularly value anything that helps Christians become calmer, more curious and better listeners.

    But I would want to use the framework as a set of tools rather than a script. The measure of success would not be whether I emerged having delivered the perfect Christian response. It would be whether the person with whom I disagreed nevertheless felt heard, respected and safe enough to talk to me again.

    The Verdict

    Forgive Me If I Was Rude tackles an important problem. Christians need to become better at difficult conversations, particularly in a culture where disagreement can so quickly become hostility.

    Its attempt to hold conviction and compassion together is therefore worthwhile. Yet perhaps the greatest challenge lies one step beyond learning how to say difficult things well. It is learning to approach another person without treating them as an argument to be won. Truth matters. Courage matters. The ability to articulate what we believe matters. But so does curiosity. So does humility. So does listening long enough to discover that the person across the table is considerably more complicated than the position they appear to represent.

    Perhaps the art of complicated,

    faith-based conversation begins there.

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  • Becoming a Peacemaker

    24 Oct 2026
    Devotions
    Becoming a Peacemaker

    “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.”
    Matthew 5:9

    There is a difference between wanting peace and making peace.

    Most of us want peace.

    We like things settled.

    We would rather avoid arguments, tension and awkward conversations.

    But Jesus doesn’t say, Blessed are the peace-lovers.

    He says:

    “Blessed are the peacemakers.”

    Making suggests action.

    Sometimes a peacemaker is the person who refuses to join in the gossip.

    The one who lowers their voice instead of raising it.

    The one who listens to both sides.

    The one who says, Perhaps there is another way.

    The one who brings calm into a room instead of adding to the tension.

    None of those things sound particularly dramatic.

    But perhaps that’s how peace spreads.

    One conversation.

    One choice.

    One person deciding not to add more anger to an already angry world.

    Yesterday we thought about making peace in our own relationships.

    Today the circle gets wider.

    Where might you carry peace today?

    Into your home?

    Your workplace?

    Your community?

    Even into an online conversation?

    You may not be able to change the whole atmosphere.

    But you can decide what you bring into it.

    Carry this today

    Wherever I go today, I can choose to bring peace rather than add to the noise.

    Prayer

    God of peace,
    make me a peacemaker today.
    Help me to listen before I speak,
    to calm rather than inflame,
    to understand rather than assume,
    and wherever I go,
    let me carry something of your peace with me.
    Amen.

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  • Peace With Ourselves

    23 Oct 2026
    Devotions
    Peace With Ourselves

    Philippians 4:4–9

    We can be remarkably hard on ourselves.

    We say things to ourselves that we would never dream of saying to another person.

    You should have done better.

    That was stupid.

    Why can’t you get yourself together?

    Everyone else manages.

    You should be further along by now.

    Sometimes the least peaceful place we inhabit is our own head.

    Paul writes:

    “Do not be anxious about anything.”

    That verse can sound almost impossible if we hear it as a command to simply stop worrying.

    If only anxiety had an off switch.

    Don’t be anxious.

    Right.

    Grand.

    That’s sorted then.

    But Paul doesn’t stop there.

    He points towards prayer.

    Bring what troubles you to God.

    Bring the requests.

    Bring the needs.

    Bring the thanksgiving too.

    And then Paul speaks of a peace that “transcends all understanding” guarding our hearts and minds.

    I love that image.

    Peace standing guard.

    Not necessarily removing every difficult thought, but refusing to let those thoughts have complete control.

    Then Paul turns our attention towards what we think about.

    Whatever is true.

    Whatever is honourable.

    Whatever is right.

    Whatever is pure.

    Whatever is lovely.

    Whatever is admirable.

    Think about these things.

    Perhaps peace with ourselves begins partly by noticing what we repeatedly tell ourselves.

    Is it even true?

    That’s an important question.

    I’m useless.

    True?

    I always get everything wrong.

    Really? Everything?

    I’m not good enough.

    According to whom?

    Sometimes we’ve repeated a thought so often that we’ve stopped questioning it.

    Paul invites us towards truth.

    And the truth is not that we are perfect.

    We aren’t.

    We make mistakes.

    We get things badly wrong sometimes.

    There will always be things within us that need God’s transforming grace.

    But there is a difference between honest self-examination and merciless self-condemnation.

    God’s grace allows us to say:

    I got that wrong.

    Without adding:

    Therefore I am worthless.

    Grace allows us to apologise without destroying ourselves.

    To learn without endlessly replaying our failure.

    To change without hating the person we were yesterday.

    Perhaps that is part of peace.

    Learning to speak to ourselves with the same mercy we would offer somebody we love.

    Interestingly, Paul also mentions gratitude.

    Prayer and thanksgiving.

    Because anxiety tends to narrow our field of vision.

    One problem becomes the only thing we can see.

    Gratitude doesn’t deny the problem.

    It simply reminds us that the problem isn’t all there is.

    This is hard.

    And there is kindness.

    This is uncertain.

    And I have been carried before.

    I made a mistake.

    And I can begin again.

    I am worried.

    And God is here.

    Peace with ourselves doesn’t mean liking everything about ourselves.

    It means knowing that our flaws do not remove us from grace.

    It means allowing ourselves to be human.

    Loved.

    Learning.

    Growing.

    Sometimes muddling through.

    And perhaps, today, deserving a little less criticism from the voice inside our own head.

    God is not asking you to become somebody else before you can come near.

    You are already here.

    God is already here.

    So breathe.

    Bring what troubles you.

    Notice what is good.

    Think about what is true.

    And let the peace of God stand guard.

    A question to carry

    Would I speak to someone I love in the way I sometimes speak to myself?

    A simple practice

    Notice one harsh thing you say to yourself today.

    Stop.

    Ask:

    Is this actually true?

    Then replace it with something truthful and gracious.

    Perhaps simply:

    “I am still learning, and I am still loved.”

    Prayer

    God of peace,
    you know the noise inside my head.

    You know my worries,
    my regrets,
    and the ways I can be hard on myself.

    Teach me to recognise what is true.

    Give me grace for the things
    I cannot change
    and courage for the things I can.

    Guard my heart.
    Guard my mind.

    And teach me to live peacefully
    even with myself.

    Amen.

    For today: Let peace begin within.

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  • Making Peace with Others

    22 Oct 2026
    Devotions
    Making Peace with Others

    “If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone.”
    Romans 12:18

    Some relationships are easy.

    Others take work.

    There are misunderstandings.
    Words said badly.
    Things left unsaid.
    Old hurts that somehow find their way into new conversations.

    And sometimes we long for peace, but we don’t know how to get there.

    I love the honesty of Paul’s words:

    “As far as it depends on you.”

    He doesn’t say that we can fix every relationship.

    We can’t.

    Peace sometimes requires two people willing to move towards one another, and we cannot make someone else take that step.

    But we can look at our own part.

    Is there an apology we need to make?

    A conversation we have been avoiding?

    Something we need to forgive?

    A grievance we need to stop carrying around?

    Sometimes making peace begins with one small step.

    And sometimes the other person won’t take a step towards us.

    Then perhaps peace means knowing that we have done what we can and leaving the rest with God.

    Carry this today

    I cannot control someone else’s response, but I can choose to take my step towards peace.

    Prayer

    God of peace,
    you know the relationships in my life
    that are difficult or broken.
    Show me where I need to take a step.
    Give me courage to apologise,
    grace to forgive,
    and wisdom to know when I have done what I can.
    Amen.

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  • Book Review: Work for What’s Next by Amanda Schneider

    21 Oct 2026
    book review
    Book Review: Work for What’s Next by Amanda Schneider

    Work for What’s Next is an insightful exploration of how the workplace is evolving and why many traditional assumptions about culture, leadership, and collaboration no longer work. Drawing on research, behavioural trends, and practical experience, Amanda Schneider offers a fresh perspective on building trust and connection in a world shaped by remote work, digital communication, and shifting generational expectations.

    One of the book’s greatest strengths is that it avoids the usual clichés about generational differences. Rather than portraying Gen Z as a problem to be managed or a mystery to be solved, Schneider treats younger workers as an early warning system for broader cultural changes already affecting organisations of every kind. This approach allows the conversation to move beyond stereotypes and focus on deeper questions about trust, communication, and leadership.

    The book argues convincingly that many workplace frustrations arise not from policy failures but from outdated, unwritten norms. Schneider identifies these invisible assumptions and challenges readers to rethink how teams build relationships, share information, and work together. In doing so, she provides practical frameworks rather than simply diagnosing problems.

    As an audiobook, the material benefits from the author’s narration. Schneider communicates her enthusiasm for the subject without sounding overly corporate or academic. Her presentation is accessible and engaging, making research-heavy material feel relevant and applicable.

    What I appreciated most was the book’s balanced tone. It neither romanticises the past nor assumes every new trend is an improvement. Instead, it encourages curiosity and experimentation. The recurring emphasis on prototyping solutions rather than defending old habits is particularly valuable in a world where workplaces continue to change at a rapid pace.

    This is not a book confined to large corporations or HR departments. Anyone responsible for leading volunteers, managing teams, building culture, or navigating organisational change will find useful insights here. While some examples are drawn from business settings, the underlying principles of trust, communication, and shared purpose translate well beyond the workplace.

    A thoughtful and practical guide to understanding the changing nature of work. Schneider moves beyond generational stereotypes to offer a research-based framework for building healthier, more connected workplaces in an increasingly digital world.

    A refreshing, research-driven look at the future of work that replaces generational stereotypes with practical insights about trust, culture, and human connection.

    Although written for business leaders, I found many of Schneider’s insights equally applicable to church leadership. Building trust, communicating across generations, and creating healthy culture are challenges that extend far beyond the workplace.

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  • Be Still

    21 Oct 2026
    Devotions
    Be Still

    Psalm 46

    “Be still.”

    Two little words.

    They sound lovely until you actually try to do them.

    Be still?

    There are things to do.

    People to contact.

    Problems to solve.

    Meals to make.

    Places to be.

    And even if we manage to stop physically, our minds can carry merrily on without us.

    Sometimes I think my body sits down while my brain continues running around the building.

    Yet there is this wonderful invitation tucked into Psalm 46:

    “Be still, and know that I am God.”

    It is worth noticing that Psalm 46 isn’t particularly still.

    There are mountains shaking.

    Waters roaring.

    Nations in uproar.

    Kingdoms falling.

    This is not a psalm written from a deckchair on a peaceful afternoon when everything is going beautifully.

    Chaos is happening.

    And right in the middle of it comes:

    Be still.

    Perhaps that changes what stillness means.

    Stillness isn’t necessarily the absence of trouble.

    It is the decision to stop believing that everything depends on us.

    That can be difficult.

    We are used to doing.

    When something goes wrong, we ask, “What can I do?”

    Often that’s a very good question.

    But it isn’t the only question.

    Sometimes there is nothing more we can do.

    Sometimes we’ve done all we can.

    Sometimes the situation is beyond us.

    And still we keep turning it over.

    Rehearsing the conversation.

    Imagining outcomes.

    Planning imaginary solutions to problems that haven’t happened yet.

    We hold onto things mentally because somewhere deep down we imagine that worrying about them is the same as doing something about them.

    It isn’t.

    Worry can exhaust us without changing a thing.

    Psalm 46 invites us to loosen our grip.

    Be still, and know that I am God.

    Not:

    Be still and understand everything.

    Not:

    Be still and know how this will turn out.

    Not even:

    Be still and know that everything will happen exactly as you want.

    Simply:

    Know that I am God.

    And perhaps underneath that is another truth:

    And you are not.

    There is enormous freedom in that.

    I don’t have to hold the universe together today.

    Neither do you.

    God is God.

    We are loved, limited human beings.

    We can do what is ours to do and entrust to God what isn’t.

    Maybe that is one of the gifts of stillness.

    It helps us tell the difference.

    Stillness creates space.

    Space to breathe.

    Space to listen.

    Space to notice what is going on inside us.

    Space to recognise the presence of God, which was there before we stopped long enough to notice.

    And this isn’t about needing half an hour of perfect contemplative prayer.

    For some people, that thought alone is stressful.

    Perhaps stillness today is thirty seconds in the car before getting out.

    Perhaps it is standing at the kitchen window with your coffee.

    Perhaps it is turning the radio off for part of the journey.

    Perhaps it is sitting quietly after everyone else has gone.

    No great spiritual achievement.

    Just a pause.

    And within that pause, a reminder:

    God is here.

    God is God.

    I am held.

    I can breathe.

    The world will continue turning if I stop for a moment.

    Maybe today you don’t need to work harder at peace.

    Maybe you simply need to stop long enough to notice that you aren’t carrying life alone.

    Be still.

    Not forever.

    Just for now.

    And know.

    A question to carry

    What am I carrying today as though everything depends on me?

    A simple practice

    Set aside five minutes.

    Put everything down.

    Sit somewhere comfortable.

    With each breath, slowly repeat:

    Be still.

    And know.

    That I am God.

    Then leave the silence to God.

    Prayer

    God,
    I find stillness difficult.

    I carry things,
    turn them over,
    try to solve them
    and sometimes forget
    that I am not carrying them alone.

    Help me stop.

    Help me breathe.

    Help me release what is not mine to control.

    And in the stillness,
    help me know that you are God.

    Amen.

    For today: Be still.

    1 comment on Be Still
  • Book Review: Midnight Hallelujah by Ebie Hepworth

    20 Oct 2026
    book review
    Book Review: Midnight Hallelujah by Ebie Hepworth

    Midnight Hallelujah is part memoir, part spiritual companion for those walking through seasons of disappointment, grief, and faith fatigue. Narrated by the author herself, the audiobook feels less like a lecture and more like sitting with a trusted friend over coffee as she honestly reflects on life’s darker chapters.

    Hepworth’s central premise is simple but powerful: God’s silence is not God’s absence. Through her own experiences of loss and struggle, she explores what it means to hold on to faith when prayers seem unanswered and hope feels fragile. One of the book’s strengths is its honesty. There are no quick fixes, easy clichés, or triumphant declarations that everything works out neatly in the end. Instead, Hepworth acknowledges the tension between what we believe and what we experience.

    A particularly creative aspect of the book is the author’s imagined conversations with Sarah, the mother of Isaac. By placing her own questions alongside Sarah’s story of waiting, uncertainty, and trust, Hepworth draws fresh insights from a familiar biblical narrative. At times this device feels unusual, but it ultimately provides a compelling bridge between the ancient story and contemporary struggles.

    The audiobook format works especially well because Hepworth reads the book herself. Her voice conveys both vulnerability and conviction, helping the listener connect emotionally with the material. The result is a deeply personal listening experience.

    What I appreciated most was the book’s refusal to force hope. Instead, hope emerges gradually, rooted not in changing circumstances but in the character of Christ. Those looking for a practical guide will also find useful reflections and exercises, including the author’s concept of “hope therapy”.

    Midnight Hallelujah will resonate most strongly with readers who are wrestling with unanswered prayers, grief, depression, or spiritual exhaustion. It is not a book for those seeking simplistic answers. Rather, it offers companionship for the journey and gentle reminders that faith can survive even the longest night.

    Rating: 4.5/5

    A compassionate, honest, and Christ-centred exploration of finding hope when God seems silent. For anyone standing between faith and reality, Midnight Hallelujah offers a reassuring voice in the darkness and a quiet confidence that dawn will come.

    “A beautifully honest and Christ-centred reflection on faith in the dark, offering companionship rather than clichés and hope rooted firmly in the presence of God.”

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  • Peace When Life Is Uncertain

    20 Oct 2026
    Devotions
    Peace When Life Is Uncertain

    Mark 4:35–41

    Some storms announce themselves.

    Others don’t.

    One minute life is moving along quite normally.

    And then comes the phone call.

    The conversation.

    The diagnosis.

    The unexpected bill.

    The disappointment.

    The news you weren’t prepared for.

    Suddenly the landscape has changed.

    That’s why I like the honesty of this story in Mark.

    Jesus and his disciples get into a boat.

    They set off across the lake.

    And a storm blows up.

    The important detail?

    Jesus is with them.

    Following Jesus has not prevented the storm.

    That’s worth noticing.

    Sometimes, perhaps without quite meaning to, we absorb the idea that if we’re faithful enough, prayerful enough or good enough, somehow life should work out.

    Then the storm comes.

    And alongside whatever difficulty we’re facing comes another question:

    Where is God?

    The disciples ask their own version.

    Jesus is asleep.

    They wake him:

    “Teacher, don’t you care if we drown?”

    I love the honesty of that.

    This is not polished prayer.

    This is frightened prayer.

    Don’t you care?

    Maybe you’ve prayed something like it.

    God, don’t you see what’s happening?

    Don’t you care about this person?

    Don’t you care how frightened I am?

    Why aren’t you doing something?

    There is something strangely comforting about the fact that the Bible allows those words into the story.

    Fear doesn’t disqualify us.

    Questions don’t frighten God.

    The disciples are terrified, and Jesus is still in their boat.

    He gets up and speaks to the storm.

    Peace.

    Be still.

    And the wind dies down.

    Then Jesus turns to his friends and asks:

    “Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?”

    I don’t hear that as Jesus saying, “How dare you be frightened?”

    They are in a storm. Fear is hardly surprising.

    Perhaps the deeper question is this:

    Have you forgotten who is in the boat with you?

    Yesterday we thought about peace in the noise.

    Today this is different.

    Because some things aren’t simply noise.

    Some things really are storms.

    And when somebody is in one, telling them to calm down isn’t particularly helpful.

    Christian peace isn’t pretending the waves aren’t high.

    It isn’t saying, “Everything happens for a reason.”

    It isn’t pasting a cheerful sentence over somebody else’s pain.

    Peace begins by acknowledging the storm.

    Yes, this is hard.

    Yes, I am frightened.

    Yes, I don’t know what happens next.

    And Christ is still here.

    Perhaps that little word and matters.

    I am frightened and God is here.

    I don’t know what happens next and God is here.

    I cannot fix this and God is here.

    The situation hasn’t suddenly become easy.

    But I am not alone in the boat.

    Sometimes peace comes because circumstances change.

    We pray for that.

    But sometimes peace comes before circumstances change.

    A strange steadiness.

    Enough strength for the next step.

    Enough light for today.

    Enough grace to keep going.

    If you are in calm waters today, give thanks.

    But perhaps look around too.

    Somebody near you may be in a storm.

    You might be part of God’s peace for them.

    A phone call.

    A meal.

    A lift.

    A listening ear.

    Sitting beside them without trying to explain anything.

    And if you are the one in the storm, perhaps there is no big lesson you need to learn today.

    Perhaps this is enough:

    You are not alone in the boat.

    Christ is with you.

    Even here.

    Especially here.

    A question to carry

    Where do I most need to remember that I am not alone?

    A simple practice

    Name one uncertainty you are carrying.

    Don’t try to solve it.

    Simply say:

    “Jesus, you are with me in this.”

    Return to those words whenever the worry returns today.

    Prayer

    Jesus,
    when the waters are calm,
    help me remember you.

    When the storm comes,
    help me remember you then too.

    I bring you what frightens me,
    what I cannot control,
    and what I cannot yet see beyond.

    Speak your peace into my fear.

    And when the storm does not immediately stop,
    remind me that I am not alone in the boat.

    Amen.

    For today: Trust the One who is with you.

    No comments on Peace When Life Is Uncertain
  • Peace in a Noisy World

    19 Oct 2026
    Devotions
    Peace in a Noisy World

    John 14:25–27

    There is a lot of noise in life.

    And I don’t just mean actual noise, although there is plenty of that.

    Phones ping.

    Radios talk.

    Cars pass.

    People need things.

    Somebody is asking a question while you’re already trying to answer another one.

    And even when everything around us finally becomes quiet, sometimes our heads don’t.

    Did I remember to do that?

    What am I going to do about this?

    I really should have replied to that message.

    What if this happens?

    Why did I say that?

    Don’t forget tomorrow.

    And suddenly you can be sitting in a perfectly quiet room while internally it sounds like someone has left twelve radios playing at once.

    Then Jesus says:

    “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you.”

    It sounds wonderful.

    But we need to notice when Jesus says it.

    These words don’t come at a particularly peaceful moment.

    Jesus is preparing his friends for what is coming. Things are about to change. There will be confusion and fear. The disciples will face circumstances they would never have chosen.

    And right there, Jesus speaks about peace.

    Not afterwards.

    Not once everything has settled down.

    Right there.

    I find that important.

    Because sometimes I imagine peace as the reward at the end of getting everything sorted.

    I’ll be peaceful when I’ve finished the list.

    I’ll relax when everyone else is okay.

    I’ll have peace when this particular problem is resolved.

    I’ll slow down when things are less busy.

    Which is a dangerous way to live, because there is nearly always another thing.

    Jesus offers something different.

    “My peace I give you.”

    Not the promise of a trouble-free life.

    His peace.

    Perhaps Christian peace is not primarily about creating perfect circumstances.

    Maybe it is about discovering the presence of Christ in imperfect circumstances.

    That doesn’t mean pretending everything is fine.

    Sometimes it isn’t.

    Nor does peace mean becoming so spiritually serene that nothing bothers us any more.

    We will still worry.

    We will still have difficult days.

    There will still be situations we cannot control.

    Peace doesn’t ask us to deny those things.

    It asks whether they are the only things shaping us.

    There is something else here too.

    Jesus doesn’t say, “Try very hard to become peaceful.”

    He says:

    “My peace I give you.”

    Peace is gift before it is achievement.

    That matters for those of us who can turn even resting into another task.

    Right.

    I must be peaceful.

    Deep breath.

    Relax.

    RELAX!

    And five minutes later we’re stressed because we’re not doing peace properly.

    Perhaps today Jesus simply asks us to receive.

    To stop for long enough to remember:

    I am here.

    God is here.

    This moment is here.

    And I do not need to solve tomorrow before I get there.

    There is a phrase later in the verse:

    “Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.”

    That doesn’t sound like criticism to me.

    It sounds like reassurance.

    Jesus knows his friends are going to be afraid.

    He knows their hearts will be troubled.

    And he gives them something to hold onto.

    His presence.

    His promise.

    His peace.

    Maybe we need that too.

    The noise may not disappear today.

    The phone may still ring.

    The jobs will still need doing.

    People will still need us.

    The difficult situation may still be difficult tonight.

    But perhaps peace isn’t waiting somewhere beyond all that.

    Perhaps Christ meets us right in the middle of it and says:

    My peace I give you.

    Take a breath.

    You do not have to carry everything at once.

    Just this moment.

    Just this step.

    Just today.

    A question to carry

    What noise, outside me or inside me, is making it difficult for me to notice God’s presence today?

    A simple practice

    Find two minutes of deliberate quiet today.

    No phone. No music. No words if possible.

    Breathe slowly and, with each breath, simply pray:

    “Your peace, Lord.”

    Don’t try to achieve anything.

    Receive.

    Prayer

    Jesus,
    there is so much noise.

    Around me,
    and sometimes within me.

    Thank you that your peace
    doesn’t depend on everything being sorted.

    Meet me in the middle of this day.

    Quiet what needs quieting.
    Help me release what I cannot control.

    And let me receive the peace
    you are already offering.

    Amen.

    For today: Seek peace.

  • Nothing Can Separate Us

    18 Oct 2026
    Devotions
    Nothing Can Separate Us

    Romans 8:31–39

    Some things are easier to believe for other people than for ourselves.

    God loves you?

    Absolutely.

    God forgives you?

    Of course.

    God hasn’t given up on you?

    Definitely.

    God loves me?

    Ah.

    Now we might need to talk.

    Because somewhere along the way many of us have become rather good at adding qualifications to grace.

    God loves me when…

    God loves me if…

    God loves me as long as…

    Paul doesn’t seem terribly interested in our qualifications.

    Instead, towards the end of Romans 8, he asks a huge question:

    “Who shall separate us from the love of Christ?”

    And then he starts naming possibilities.

    Trouble.

    Hardship.

    Persecution.

    Famine.

    Nakedness.

    Danger.

    Sword.

    These aren’t imaginary difficulties. Paul knows that following Christ does not somehow place a protective bubble around our lives.

    Hard things happen.

    Loss happens.

    Disappointment happens.

    Plans unravel.

    Prayers seem unanswered.

    There are days when God feels extraordinarily close.

    And there are days when we wonder where God has gone.

    Paul’s promise isn’t that those days won’t come.

    His promise is that none of them has the power to separate us from God’s love.

    That’s different.

    Perhaps we sometimes imagine God’s love as something we must hold tightly.

    Don’t mess up.

    Don’t doubt.

    Don’t wander.

    Keep believing hard enough.

    Hold on.

    But what if the deeper truth is that God is holding us?

    That shifts everything.

    A frightened child doesn’t feel safe because their grip on the parent’s hand is particularly impressive.

    They feel safe because the parent’s hand is holding theirs.

    Maybe faith is sometimes like that.

    There will be days when we hold confidently.

    And there will be days when our grip is barely there.

    But God’s love does not depend upon the strength of our grip.

    Paul keeps pushing the idea further.

    Neither death nor life.

    Neither angels nor rulers.

    Neither the present nor the future.

    No powers.

    Nothing above us.

    Nothing below us.

    And then, just in case we’ve found some loophole, he adds:

    “Nor anything else in all creation.”

    Anything else.

    That seems rather comprehensive.

    Including whatever you imagine might disqualify you.

    Your mistakes.

    Your questions.

    Your regrets.

    Your bad days.

    Your doubts.

    Your failures.

    Your yesterday.

    Your fear about tomorrow.

    Nothing.

    Not one of those things can remove you from the love of God revealed in Jesus Christ.

    Maybe that’s where our week of love needs to finish.

    We began with the truth that we are loved.

    We’ve thought about loving God, loving our neighbour, loving difficult people and putting love into action.

    But before love becomes something we give, it remains something we receive.

    We love because we have first been loved.

    And perhaps today we don’t need to achieve anything with that.

    Maybe we simply rest in it.

    You are loved.

    Not because you performed particularly well this week.

    Not because you got everything right.

    Not because you prayed enough or believed enough or served enough.

    You are loved because love is at the heart of who God is.

    So take a breath.

    Put down the scorecard.

    Stop trying to prove yourself.

    You are held.

    And nothing can separate you from the love of God.

    Nothing.

    A question to carry

    What would change if I genuinely believed that God’s love for me was not hanging by a thread?

    A simple practice

    Hold your hands open for a moment and slowly say:

    “Nothing can separate me from the love of God.”

    Then sit quietly and let that be enough.

    Prayer

    God of unshakeable love,
    when I doubt, hold me.

    When I struggle, hold me.

    When I get things wrong, hold me.

    When I cannot find the words to pray,
    remind me that your love
    does not depend on my ability to hold onto you.

    Help me rest in the truth
    that you are holding onto me.

    Amen.

    For today: Rest in love.

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I write to illuminate the journey of faith.

Writing that helps you notice God in the everyday, reflections from the road of faith and words that shine on the path

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