I write to illuminate the journey of faith.

The Peace of Christ

25 Oct 2026

Devotions

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

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

“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

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

“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

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

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.

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Book Review: Midnight Hallelujah by Ebie Hepworth

20 Oct 2026

book review

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

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.

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Peace in a Noisy World

19 Oct 2026

Devotions

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.

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Nothing Can Separate Us

18 Oct 2026

Devotions

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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31 Days Through Proverbs: Wisdom for Every Day

17 Oct 2026

book review

Proverbs 31 Ministries

A Book Review

#31DaysThroughProverbs #NetGalley

So, What Is It?

The concept couldn’t be much simpler: thirty-one chapters of Proverbs, thirty-one days.

But this isn’t simply a reading plan. Each day includes Scripture, reflection questions, cross-references, charts and practical exercises intended to connect biblical wisdom with ordinary life. Relationships, words, conflict, patience, humility and decision-making are all part of the territory.

So although it is described as suitable for personal use, I could easily imagine working through this with a small group and discovering quite a lot to talk about.

More Bible Study Than Devotional

This is an important distinction.

Unlike a devotional that gives you a couple of verses followed by somebody else’s reflection, this book appears designed to keep sending you back into Proverbs itself.

For me, that’s a real strength.

There is always a danger with devotional books that we spend considerably more time reading what somebody says about the Bible than reading the Bible. Here, the structure deliberately takes readers through the entire biblical book.

I particularly like the inclusion of cross-references too. Proverbs does not exist in isolation, and making connections with the wider biblical story can help prevent individual sayings being treated as little inspirational quotations.

Wisdom for Real Life

Proverbs is wonderfully practical. It has an irritating habit of getting into areas of life we might prefer God didn’t mention!

How do I speak about other people?
Who influences me?
How do I respond when someone annoys me?
Am I teachable?
How do I make good decisions?

Those are not abstract theological questions. They’re Monday-morning questions.

That makes Proverbs particularly well suited to this kind of workbook approach. The challenge, of course, is moving beyond discovering what the wise response would be to actually living wisely when the situation arises.

I Like the Work

And I mean that positively.

The charts, questions and decision-making exercises mean that this isn’t necessarily a book to skim over with a cup of coffee while still half asleep. The reader is expected to participate.

For somebody wanting to begin studying Scripture more intentionally but intimidated by a traditional Bible-study commentary, that feels like a useful halfway point.

There also seems to be enough structure here to help someone who doesn’t quite know what questions to ask of a biblical passage.

But I Do Have a Question…

As with Stand Stronger for Boys, I find myself wondering about the intended audience.

This is specifically presented as a resource for women, and its introduction speaks about the demands women face as they make choices for families and relationships.

But Proverbs offers wisdom for the whole people of God.

So I would want to keep asking as I worked through the book: is this genuinely exploring Proverbs through women’s experiences, or is this essentially a good Proverbs study packaged specifically for women?

There is a difference.

And perhaps there is an even bigger question underneath that. When Christian resources are aimed specifically at women, what picture of women’s lives do they assume? There is enormous diversity among women in terms of family, work, relationships, responsibilities and season of life. A good resource needs enough breadth for women to find their own lives within it.

Would I Actually Use It?

Yes. And probably with a pen in my hand.

I could see myself using this personally, but I think I would be particularly interested in trying it with a small group. Proverbs has an extraordinary ability to provoke conversation because its wisdom so quickly bumps into lived experience.

Thirty-one days also feels achievable. It provides enough time to establish a rhythm without asking for an enormous commitment.

My Verdict

31 Days Through Proverbs has a simple idea at its heart: open Proverbs every day for a month and allow biblical wisdom to interrogate ordinary life.

What appeals to me most is that the workbook doesn’t appear to want to become the destination. Its purpose is to get the reader reading, thinking about and responding to Scripture.

I still have questions about the specifically female packaging and whether the content itself really requires it. But as an accessible bridge between a daily devotional and more substantial Bible study, this has considerable potential.

And perhaps its greatest success would be if, after day thirty-one, the reader closes the workbook but doesn’t stop opening the Bible.

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Stand Stronger for Boys: 90 Faith-Building Devotions

17 Oct 2026

book review

A book review

#StandStrongerforBoys #NetGalley

There is no shortage of children’s devotional books around, but I always think the real test is quite simple: would a child actually pick this up and read it without an adult standing over them? Stand Stronger for Boys is aimed at boys aged eight to twelve, and its purpose is to help them develop their own relationship with God, particularly as they negotiate the sometimes complicated preteen years.

Each of the ninety devotions follows a fairly predictable pattern. There is a suggested Bible reading, a short story, some reflection, a prayer activity and a fun fact. Predictable, though, isn’t necessarily a criticism. For a child beginning to develop a devotional habit, knowing what to expect can be quite helpful.

Will Boys Actually Want to Read It?

Visually, I think the book works. It doesn’t look like something intended for very young children, but neither is there a daunting wall of text. The strong headings, muted colours and little features such as the “Fun Fact” boxes break the pages up nicely.

More importantly, the individual readings are short. That matters. There is enough substance to give the reader something to think about without making spending time with God feel like another piece of homework.

The language is also straightforward without talking down to the reader. That is a difficult balance to get right with this age group.

Same Story, Different Audience

One thing particularly caught my attention because I had just been looking at Stand Stronger, the companion devotional for adult men.

One of the devotions here, “Don’t Be Afraid”, uses Jeremiah 1:4–10 and the extraordinary survival story of Louis Zamperini. The adult devotional uses essentially the same starting point.

That makes comparing the two fascinating.

In the children’s version the story is shorter, unfamiliar terminology such as “POW” is explained, and the focus moves quickly towards something a child can understand personally: what am I afraid of, and what difference does believing God is with me make?

For me, that is where the book is strongest. The writers haven’t simply shortened an adult devotion and used easier words. There is an attempt to bring the biblical theme into the everyday world of the child.

Something I Really Liked

I particularly liked the section headed “Just You and God”.

At the end of this devotion, children are invited to complete a prayer by naming something they are afraid of and asking God to be with them as they face it.

It’s a very small feature, but possibly one of the most valuable.

We can be very good at telling children what they ought to believe. Giving them space to talk honestly to God for themselves is something rather different.

And perhaps that is one of the best things a devotional book can do. It shouldn’t become the child’s relationship with God. It should help the child develop one.

But I Did Wonder…

I kept returning to one question: what makes this specifically a devotional for boys?

There is nothing wrong with producing resources specifically for boys, of course, and some children may particularly appreciate knowing that a book has been created with them in mind.

But I would have liked to explore whether the content genuinely reflects something distinctive about the spiritual lives and experiences of boys aged eight to twelve, or whether many of these devotions could just as easily be offered to children more generally.

Perhaps that is something parents, grandparents and children’s ministry leaders will want to decide for themselves.

Would I Use It?

Yes, I would.

I can easily imagine giving this to a child who is beginning to explore reading the Bible and praying independently. I could also see individual devotions providing useful starting points for conversations at home or in children’s ministry.

And I like that the book continually points beyond itself towards the Bible. A children’s devotional has succeeded, I think, when eventually the child discovers that the most interesting book on the bedside table isn’t the devotional at all.

My Verdict

Stand Stronger for Boys is attractive, accessible and genuinely manageable for its intended age group. The mixture of Bible, storytelling, interesting facts and personal prayer gives children several different ways into each theme.

My one lingering question concerns how specifically the book needs to be marketed towards boys. But that does not detract from what it does well.

For an eight to twelve-year-old beginning to take some ownership of their faith, this could be a very useful companion, particularly if it opens the door not simply to ninety devotions, but to a lifetime of opening the Bible and discovering God for themselves.

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Library of Forbidden Books

17 Oct 2026

book review

A sweeping historical fiction novel about a librarian protecting banned books in Nazi Germany

by Mario Escobar and narrated by Kathleen Gati

A Book Review

There is something wonderfully audacious at the heart of Library of Forbidden Books. In an age when dictators feared books enough to burn them, Mario Escobar tells the story of those who loved them enough to risk everything to save them. From the opening chapters I was intrigued. The historical notes drew me in, but it was the care and courage of the librarians that kept me listening. This is not simply a novel about people. It is a novel about books themselves.

Set in Berlin in 1933, against the backdrop of rising Nazi oppression, the story follows Helene Nathan, a librarian determined to preserve works condemned by the regime. Escobar paints a city increasingly shaped by violence, intimidation and fear. Neighbours become informants, friendships fracture, and danger lurks in everyday encounters. Yet amidst this darkness, Helene and her colleagues quietly resist by safeguarding literature destined for the flames.

One of the book’s greatest strengths is the way books become characters in their own right. They are not merely objects sitting on shelves. They carry ideas, memories and hopes. Some are treasured as a collection, others emerge as individuals with distinct significance. One scene that particularly stayed with me involved reading Kant to soothe a baby. It was such a beautiful and unexpected moment, reminding the reader that books are more than repositories of information. They comfort, nurture and accompany us through life.

Escobar also succeeds in showing why authoritarian regimes fear literature. Books encourage people to think, question and imagine alternatives. The burning of books becomes symbolic of something far greater than censorship. It is an attack on human freedom itself. Through Helene’s story we are reminded that preserving culture can be an act of resistance every bit as brave as standing on a battlefield.

As an audiobook, the story works exceptionally well. The tension of the historical setting, the emotional weight of Helene’s choices, and the love of literature at the centre of the narrative combine to create an engaging listening experience. There were moments when I found myself eager to return to the story simply to discover what would happen next.

If I have one criticism, it is that some characters beyond Helene occasionally felt less developed than I would have liked. The strength of the historical setting and the compelling central premise sometimes overshadow the supporting cast. However, this is a minor complaint in an otherwise excellent novel.

Library of Forbidden Books is ultimately a tribute to the librarians, teachers, readers and quiet custodians of culture who understood that ideas matter. It is a story about courage in dark times, about the power of literature to preserve our humanity, and about the conviction that some things are worth risking everything to protect. For anyone who loves books, history, or stories of ordinary people displaying extraordinary courage, this is an audiobook well worth seeking out.

As a minister, I found myself reflecting on the parallels between those who preserved books and those who preserved faith through difficult times. Both understood that ideas, stories and truth are precious gifts. Both believed that some things must be handed on to the next generation, whatever the cost. It is with sadness that I tell you the real Helene – took her life in 1940 when life was unbearable.

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Love in Action

17 Oct 2026

Devotions

1 Corinthians 13:1–7

Love is one of those words we use so often that we can forget how demanding it actually is.

We love people.
We love places.
We love songs.
We love coffee.
We love a particular television programme, a favourite meal, a view, a book.

And then Paul comes along and rather inconveniently tells us what love looks like.

It is patient.

Oh.

It is kind.

Fine so far.

It does not envy. It does not boast. It is not proud. It doesn’t dishonour others. It isn’t self-seeking. It isn’t easily angered. It keeps no record of wrongs.

By now, I’m beginning to wish Paul had stopped at kind.

Because this isn’t sentimental love.

This is love with its sleeves rolled up.

We often hear 1 Corinthians 13 at weddings, and understandably so. They are beautiful words.

But Paul wasn’t writing a romantic poem for a wedding ceremony. He was writing to a community of people who were struggling to live well together.

People with different personalities.

Different opinions.

Different gifts.

Different ideas about what mattered.

In other words, people.

And perhaps that is precisely where love becomes real.

It is relatively easy to love people in theory.

Actual people are considerably more complicated.

Actual people interrupt us.

They disappoint us.

They say the wrong thing.

They don’t notice all the things we’ve done.

They take too long.

They misunderstand.

So do we.

And into all that ordinary human mess, Paul says:

Love is patient. Love is kind.

Notice that he doesn’t spend much time telling us how love feels.

He tells us what love does.

That changes things.

I might not be able to manufacture warm feelings towards everyone I encounter today.

But I can choose patience.

I can choose kindness.

I can refuse to keep score.

I can listen.

I can hold my tongue.

I can make room.

I can encourage.

I can forgive.

I can turn up.

Sometimes love looks remarkably ordinary.

It’s making the cup of tea.

Sending the message.

Letting somebody else speak.

Remembering the person who might otherwise be forgotten.

It’s asking, “How are you?” and then staying long enough to hear the real answer.

Love isn’t always spectacular.

Very often it is simply faithful.

And perhaps there is another challenge here.

Paul begins this chapter by saying that we can do impressive things and still miss love entirely.

We can speak beautifully.

We can know an enormous amount.

We can possess great faith.

We can even be extraordinarily generous.

And yet without love something fundamental is missing.

That’s worth sitting with.

Because it is perfectly possible to do the right thing for the wrong reason.

To serve while resenting.

To give while wanting recognition.

To help while secretly feeling superior.

Love asks something deeper.

Not merely:

What am I doing?

But:

How am I doing it?

Perhaps today we don’t need to do anything enormous.

Perhaps we simply choose one of Paul’s descriptions and practise it.

Patience.

Kindness.

Not keeping score.

Protecting.

Trusting.

Hoping.

Persevering.

Pick one.

And let love become a verb.

A question to carry

If love became something I did today, rather than simply something I felt, what would it look like?

A simple practice

Choose one person today and deliberately show them love in a practical way.

Don’t announce it.

Just do it.

Prayer

God of love,
thank you that your love
is more than words.

Teach me to love like that.

Make me patient when I want to hurry,
kind when irritation comes more easily,
generous when I want my own way.

Let the love I speak about
become the love I live.

Amen.

For today: Practice love.

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Loving the Difficult Person

16 Oct 2026

Devotions

“Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you.”
Luke 6:27

And then Jesus goes and says something like this.

Love your enemies.

Really?

Loving the people who love us is one thing.

Loving the person who annoys us, hurts us, misunderstands us or seems determined to make life difficult?

That’s different.

And let’s be honest.

Some people are difficult to love.

Jesus doesn’t pretend otherwise.

Nor does loving someone mean allowing them to hurt us repeatedly. Love can have boundaries. Love can say no. Love can step away when that is necessary.

But love refuses to let bitterness take over our heart.

Sometimes loving a difficult person might simply begin with refusing to return hurt for hurt.

Not rehearsing the argument again.

Not enjoying their failure.

Not letting resentment become the thing that occupies our thoughts.

Perhaps we are not ready to feel warmly towards them.

That’s all right.

Love is not always a feeling.

Sometimes love begins as a choice.

God, I don’t know how to love this person.

But I don’t want bitterness to win either.

Maybe that’s enough of a prayer for today.

Carry this today

I cannot control another person’s behaviour, but I can choose what grows in my own heart.

Prayer

God of love,
you know the people I find difficult.
Give me wisdom to know when boundaries are needed,
grace not to return hurt for hurt,
and freedom from bitterness.
Teach me what love looks like
even when loving is hard.
Amen.

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Loving Our Neighbour

15 Oct 2026

Devotions

“Love your neighbour as yourself.”
Mark 12:31

It sounds simple.

Love your neighbour.

Until, of course, we start wondering who exactly our neighbour is.

The person next door?

The family we get on well with?

The friend who thinks like us?

Surely they count.

But Jesus keeps making the circle bigger.

Our neighbour is the person in front of us.

The person we notice.

The person whose need crosses our path.

And loving them doesn’t always require something enormous.

Sometimes love is very ordinary.

Listening when we’re tempted to hurry on.

Noticing the person everyone else overlooks.

Sending the message.

Making the phone call.

Offering practical help.

Remembering the name.

Making space at the table.

Perhaps we sometimes miss opportunities to love because we’re waiting to do something significant.

But love is often found in small things done with great care.

So maybe the question for today isn’t:

How can I change the world?

Maybe it is simply:

Who is my neighbour today?

And what small act of love might I offer them?

Carry this today

Love begins with noticing the person in front of me.

Prayer

God of love,
open my eyes today
to the people around me.
Help me to notice,
to listen,
to care,
and to respond when I can.
Show me who my neighbour is today
and teach me to love them well.
Amen.

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Loving God

14 Oct 2026

Devotions

“Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.”
Matthew 22:37

What does it actually mean to love God?

Perhaps we imagine something dramatic.

A powerful worship experience.

A great moment of faith.

A prayer in which everything suddenly makes sense.

And sometimes loving God will feel like that.

But most of life isn’t lived in dramatic moments.

It’s lived while making breakfast.

Driving to work.

Answering messages.

Walking the dog.

Doing the shopping.

Putting the kettle on.

Maybe loving God happens there too.

Perhaps loving God is less about trying to manufacture a particular feeling and more about learning to notice God’s presence in the middle of ordinary life.

A quiet thank you.

A moment of wonder.

Choosing kindness.

Stopping long enough to pray.

Trusting God with something we cannot control.

Loving God with all our heart, soul and mind doesn’t mean withdrawing from ordinary life.

It means inviting God right into the middle of it.

So today, don’t wait for a particularly holy moment.

Look for God in the one you’re already in.

Carry this today

I can love God right here, in the ordinary moments of today.

Prayer

God of love,
teach me to love you
not only in special moments,
but in the ordinary rhythm of my day.
Help me to notice you,
to make room for you,
and to offer you the life I am actually living today.
Amen.

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Love That Knows Us Completely

13 Oct 2026

Devotions

“You have searched me, Lord, and you know me.”
Psalm 139:1

We all have different versions of ourselves.

There is the version other people see.

The capable version.
The cheerful version.
The yes, everything’s fine version.

And then there is everything underneath.

The worries we don’t mention.

The thoughts we wouldn’t particularly like anyone else to hear.

The insecurities.

The questions.

The parts of ourselves we are still trying to understand.

And God knows all of it.

Psalm 139 tells us that God knows when we sit down and when we get up. He knows our thoughts, our movements and even the words we are about to speak.

God knows us completely.

That might sound slightly terrifying.

Until we remember what we discovered yesterday.

The God who knows us completely is the God who loves us first.

There is nothing you need to hide.

Nothing you need to disguise.

Nothing God is going to discover about you today that will make him say, Well, I wasn’t expecting that.

You are already known.

Completely.

And you are loved.

Perhaps that is one of the deepest gifts love can give us:

To be fully known and still fully loved.

Carry this today

I am completely known by God and completely loved by God.

Prayer

God who knows me,
thank you that I don’t need to hide from you.
You know my strengths and my struggles,
my hopes and my fears.
Help me to rest in the wonderful truth
that I am known
and I am loved.
Amen.

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Loved First

12 Oct 2026

Devotions

“We love because he first loved us.”
1 John 4:19

We talk a lot about loving God.

Love God.
Love your neighbour.
Love one another.

All important.

But perhaps, before we talk about any of that, we need to notice the order.

God loved us first.

Before we did anything.

Before we understood.

Before we prayed the right prayers or believed the right things or managed to become better versions of ourselves.

God loved us.

First.

Christian love doesn’t begin with us trying harder to be more loving people.

It begins with being loved.

Maybe that’s why receiving love can sometimes be harder than giving it.

Giving makes us feel useful.

Receiving requires us to open our hands.

This week we’re going to think about love in all sorts of ways.

Loving God.

Loving other people.

Loving when it’s difficult.

Putting love into action.

But today we begin here.

Before anything is asked of you, something has already been given to you.

You are loved.

Let that be enough for today.

Carry this today

I don’t begin by trying to love more. I begin by remembering that I am loved.

Prayer

God of love,
before I loved you,
you loved me.
Before I reached towards you,
you were already reaching towards me.
Help me to receive that love today
and let everything else flow from there.
Amen.

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