I usually spend my mornings troubleshooting cloud-based document management solutions, navigating AI implementations for clients or wondering why my smart fridge has decided to stage a silent protest against my choice of cold drink, so finding a lengthy papal encyclical on Artificial Intelligence in my inbox was a bit like receiving a system update for my soul.
We often labour under the delusion that we need to “tidy the cupboards of our souls” before we can let God in. We treat our spiritual lives like a divine audit, terrified that our lack of “filter” or our general dishevelment might trigger some celestial “Access Denied” message.
Let’s be honest: most days, life feels less like a serene walk with God and more like trying to assemble a particularly fiddly piece of flat-pack furniture while the instructions are being chewed by the dog and you’ve misplaced the allen key.
In the relentless bustle of modern family life, the notion of “quiet time” can feel like a bit of a tall order. For a tired mother or father, the distance between the kitchen sink and the “quiet conversation of prayer” can feel like a very long way indeed…
We often treat the sudden exit of Ananias and Sapphira as a terrifying divine audit, yet it is actually the ultimate cure for our modern obsession with spiritual stage-management. Their tragedy was not a matter of a lightened purse but a heavy heart that was far too preoccupied with the fickle applause of the gallery. By pretending to be more holy than they truly were, they missed the profound rest of being fully known by a Father who sees every secret. When we finally stop performatively tidying the cupboards of our souls, we find a love that requires no filters.
Finding Jesus in the Old Testament Reading the Old Testament without looking for Jesus is a bit like trying to assemble a complicated piece of flat-pack furniture whilst ignoring the instructions and the illustration on the box; you might eventually produce something that stands upright, but you will almost certainly Read more
Explore the beautiful biblical patterns connecting the Garden of Eden to the hill of Calvary. Discover how Jesus, as the second Adam, reversed the fall by transforming a Roman instrument of death into the new Tree of Life for all who seek his restorative grace and healing.
The heart of the letter to Titus lies in that wonderful assurance that the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation for all people and training us to renounce ungodliness. We often think of grace as a lovely, soft word, perhaps something we say before a Sunday roast, but St Paul describes it as a tutor or a trainer that helps us grow. In our daily lives, from the kitchen to the marketplace, we are invited to adorn the doctrine of God our Saviour by living with kindness and integrity, making the Gospel look beautiful to a world seeking hope.
Let us be honest with one another: prayer is often rather harder than the hymnbooks suggest. We have all been there – starting a prayer only to find our minds have wandered to the shopping list. If this sounds familiar, take heart. You are not a failure; you are simply human. In Colossians 4:12, we meet Epaphras, who was ‘always struggling’ in prayer. The Greek word is agonizomai – the root of our word ‘agony’. But this wasn’t mere suffering; it was an athletic contest, a wrestling match in the arena of intercession. Discover why there is profound joy to be found in the holy sweat of persistent prayer…
We live in an era thoroughly soaked in the suspicion of authority, where modern cultural “liturgy” insists that any disparity in role must equate to a deficiency in worth. Yet, the Christian family was never intended to be a corporation of co-equal executives, but a magnificent, complementary sanctuary of grace.
By clothing His agony in the ancient language of Psalm 22, our Lord Jesus transformed what seemed a cry of abandonment into the opening movement of His glorious victory, revealing that every piercing nail was foreseen in the divine script of the Atonement and inviting us to find a shout of triumph even within our own deepest desolation.