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Tag: Jesus

  • Christmas 2025: Jesus

    Jesus – Luke 2:41–52

    We have citrus trees along the side of our house. Four years ago we planted them. They are still in the juvenile stage, growing taller and taller each season. It’s a slow process and will take another few years before they produce any fruit.

    Before Jesus preaches and begins His ministry of healing, teaching, miracles, and calling followers, we read of Him doing something very ordinary – learning. Here we get that picture of a student, asking questions, listening, and sitting among teachers. Even Jesus, the Son of God, takes part in that slow work of growth before going about producing anything.

    It’s quite a simple story. Jesus doesn’t perform any wonders or reveal Himself to others. What He is doing is growing in wisdom, stature, and favour with God and the people (v52). This is a time of formation for Jesus. And if Jesus required it, then perhaps we too might need to do the same.

    Growth doesn’t happen overnight, it’s often gradual, unnoticed, and uncomfortable. Yet God uses these seasons to shape us, to humble us, and provide us with wisdom and patience for the road ahead. Luke’s inclusion of this story reminds us that we are being formed through those unseen and ordinary years.

    It’s like learning a new musical instrument, having to practice and practice and practice when no one is looking. It’s like moving through adolescence, discovering who we are, what our purpose is, and where we belong. As someone once said, growth is like outgrowing old shoes; it’s awkward, slightly painful, but necessary.

    We often want instant results, instant transformation, but discipleship takes time.

    Ask God to highlight one area where He wants you to grow this season. Is it patience, courage, compassion, humility, wisdom, rest? Something else perhaps? Take one small step this week in that direction.

    Where might God be inviting you to lean into slow, steady growth this Christmas?

    This devotional series runs alongside our Songs for the Saviour sermon series this Christmas. It explores the four ‘songs’ of Luke’s Gospel, which in their historical Latin form are known as the Magnificat, Benedictus, Gloria in Excelsis, and Nunc Dimittis.

  • Christmas 2025: Simeon

    Simeon – Luke 2:21–38

    Waiting is quite painful, isn’t it? It’s painful because we want answers now. We want things to happen right away. We want to know or see things happen in our own timing, not in the patient and enduring time of the Lord.

    Simeon’s life was shaped around a promise that was slow to arrive. To be fair, he’s not passive about it, he is attentive to what God might be doing. He waits with hope.

    We might know this kind of experience ourselves. Waiting stretches us, it teaches us, and in the course of waiting that which we genuinely hope for is often revealed.

    When Simeon finally sees Jesus, he is full of thankfulness and gratitude. He isn’t relieved, he doesn’t make a big scene, and there is certainly no big announcement by this old gentleman. Rather, he is worshipful. He praises and blesses God for the kindness in allowing him to see the Christ child (v29-32). This song, the Nunc Dimittis, affirms God’s timing, knowing it is never late and never rushed. Simeon shows us the kind of faith that doesn’t demand answers from God but trusts the God who knows them.

    This short story of Simeon is a great reminder that God is at work even in the seasons that feel awfully slow.

    He’s like the grandparent who has prayed for their family for decades, faithful in giving over to God what is His and trusting that in His good timing He will fulfil His word.  

    Waiting is part of our Christian life, our Christian experience. Can you think of one area in your life where you are waiting? Lift it up to God each day this week.

    How might God be shaping you through the waiting rather than simply delivering what you long for?

    This devotional series runs alongside our Songs for the Saviour sermon series this Christmas. It explores the four ‘songs’ of Luke’s Gospel, which in their historical Latin form are known as the Magnificat, Benedictus, Gloria in Excelsis, and Nunc Dimittis.

  • The Tender Mercy of God

    In the month leading up to Christmas Day I think I have been present and shared something of the Christmas story at six ‘extra’ end of year events. We all know it’s a busy time, with plenty of different activities in church, school, and other community groups we’re involved in. For me, this has probably been my most active Christmas in some time, possibly ever. And as you can imagine, I’m wanting to share the great news of Jesus’ birth, but also do so in a way that isn’t stale. I want it to be attractive and meaningful for the hearers, and also for me personally as the speaker. At some of these events I can share the same message with a tweak or two, but by the time you’ve done that 2-3 times I feel within myself that it’s time to change it up. 

    That’s why, at our Community Kitchen Christmas meal the other evening, I decided to share for five minutes on the phrase, “the tender mercy of God”, which comes from Luke 1:78.

    It’s such a great phrase. It’s beautiful really. And it is part of the Christmas story, tucked away in Zechariah’s song. 

    After months of silence, and the birth of his son John, Zechariah breaks into praise. His words look back and acknowledge God’s faithfulness (Luke 1:68-75), and then turn toward the future and the coming of Jesus, which lead him to say those words, “the tender mercy of God”. 

    Tender mercy. 

    This is not forceful power. 

    This is not harsh correction. 

    This is not distant authority. 

    This is tender mercy. 

    Zechariah’s song helps us understand what kind of God we are dealing with, and what kind of salvation He is bringing into the world through Jesus. 

    John, Zechariah’s son, was not to be the central character of the story. He would be the one who prepared the way. Like the opening act at a concert who warms up the crowd and gets them ready for the main artist or band, his role was important but not ultimate. He would point beyond himself to Jesus. 

    And what was he preparing people for? 

    Not a political revolution. 

    Not economic rescue.

    Not national independence. 

    John was preparing people for salvation through the forgiveness of sins. A salvation that flows from God’s tender mercy. 

    If we’re honest, we often look outward for our own salvation. We want to be saved from difficult circumstances, whether it’s pressure at work, financial stress, health challenges, and broken relationships. And God cares about all those things. 

    But Christmas reminds us that God’s deeper work for us is inward. 

    God comes to deal with the things we carry beneath the surface. Guilt. Shame. Regret. Fear. The quiet sense that things aren’t right inside of us. 

    And He doesn’t come aggressively or forcefully, He comes gently and tenderly. 

    God doesn’t approach us with a raised voice, or come to shame and humiliate. He isn’t impatient or hurried or fed up and disappointed. 

    God meets us in our brokenness with closeness. 

    He draws near. 

    Perhaps you’ve had a similar experience to me when on Christmas Day you celebrate a meal with all the special cutlery and utensils. I’m sure you know what I’m talking about. Out comes the special plates, the special bowls, the fine glassware, and the more expensive cutlery. There are decorations that only come out once a year, perhaps there are some precious ornaments displayed around the room too. And within this celebration there are kids around, excited and happy and joyful. 

    Now, imagine that one of them accidentally knocks a glass off the table. It shatters on the floor and its contents stain the carpet. The room is suddenly quiet. The child freezes. They’re waiting. 

    What are they waiting for? Most likely a parent or family member to get cross out of the stress, pressure, and frustration that a Christmas Day meal can bring. 

    But tender mercy is not snapping in frustration. 

    Tender mercy is not shaming or scolding. 

    Tender mercy is kneeling down, wrapping them in a hug, and saying, “It’s OK. No worries. I’ll sort it out.”

    This, Zechariah tells us, is what God is like. 

    Because of God’s tender mercy, Jesus comes into the world. 

    Because of God’s tender mercy, forgiveness is possible.

    Because of God’s tender mercy, light shines into dark places.

    And because of God’s tender mercy, God guides people into a path of peace.

    It isn’t about having life neatly organised. It isn’t about pretending things are fine. It isn’t about performing spiritual competence. It is about a God who draws near, who sees us as we are, and who chooses compassion over condemnation.

    Wherever this season finds you; tired, hopeful, grieving, uncertain, or desperately trying to hold things together, the message of Christmas remains the same.

    God’s mercy is tender.

    And it is for you.

  • Christmas 2025: The Shepherds

    The Shepherds – Luke 2:1–20

    Ah, the shepherds. Those who go unnoticed, seem unimportant, and are largely invisible. Their work, of course, is constant. It’s dirty work. It doesn’t win them any points on the social scale. No one would be expecting God to speak through these guys, but that’s exactly what happens.

    This announcement to the shepherds by the angels is dramatic. God chooses the last group anyone would think to invite, shepherds working the overnight shift. And in such a moment the shepherds sing Gloria in Excelsis, not to kings, or those in power, or the influencers of the day, but for the people who never made it to the temple. They sing for those who are overlooked, responding to this announcement of good news with great joy and wonder there in v14, “Glory to God in the highest and on earth peace among those with whom he is pleased”.

    Isn’t this a reminder that the gospel is meant to be received with fresh eyes and a ready heart? Doesn’t this give us a quiet correction to our assumptions about who God uses and who He seeks to draw close?

    It’s like the late-night cleaner in the large office building in the city. It’s like the nurse on night shift who cares for patients while the rest of us are asleep. It’s like that parent that wakes early, while its still dark, to prepare the school lunches. These are people we may walk past without noticing. These are the people who persevere with resilience and quiet strength. These are the people who, if announced in our day, would hear this good news first.

    Make a point this week to notice someone you usually overlook. Might it be the barista, the cleaner of the toilets at your local shopping centre, the crossing supervisor at school, or the bus driver? Offer a word of thanks, gratitude, or encouragement.

    Who around you might be waiting for the simple reminder that God sees them?

    This devotional series runs alongside our Songs for the Saviour sermon series this Christmas. It explores the four ‘songs’ of Luke’s Gospel, which in their historical Latin form are known as the Magnificat, Benedictus, Gloria in Excelsis, and Nunc Dimittis.

  • Christmas 2025: Zechariah

    Zechariah – Luke 1:56–80

    No matter how long you’ve been a follower of Jesus there seems to always be a way for doubt to sneak in. Here in the story of Zechariah we read about a sliver of doubt that that brings change. Zechariah is not a faithless character, he’s a man who has spent years praying, serving, waiting, and longing for God. Perhaps life had taken a toll by this point, perhaps hope was wearing a little thin for him. We don’t know, but what we do know is that when the angel appears with this unbelievable news, he doesn’t fully trust it. There is a quiet doubt that sits there.

    In response to this doubt God does not dismiss him. He doesn’t replace him with someone else full of faith and life. No, His response is to put him into silence. Nine months of silence. Unable to speak. Can you imagine?

    This isn’t punishment though; it is more about formation. It gives Zechariah the chance to reset. It gives him a chance to listen to God again. When Zechariah’s voice returns it isn’t a soft, fragile, or timid voice. It is now strong, full of praise from the resultant faithfulness he has seen in God. His song, in v68-79, is clear, full of conviction and hope. He has a new vision of God that brings worship and praise.

    This is an encouragement to anyone who has a spiritual flat tyre. This is a message for those of us who continually wake spiritually tired even though we’ve been getting enough sleep. It’s like the car that goes and goes but eventually runs out of petrol and can’t go anymore. The key is to fill up, to reset, to rest in God and allow Him to speak into our well-worn heart.

    Take five minutes of silence today. No words. No lists. No phone. No expectations. Just be still in God’s presence. Allow Him to speak to you. Just be in Him.

    Where might God be using frustration, fatigue, or doubt to draw you into greater trust?

    This devotional series runs alongside our Songs for the Saviour sermon series this Christmas. It explores the four ‘songs’ of Luke’s Gospel, which in their historical Latin form are known as the Magnificat, Benedictus, Gloria in Excelsis, and Nunc Dimittis.

  • Christmas 2025: Mary

    Christmas often arrives with equal parts excitement and pressure. We’re surrounded by familiar songs, familiar expectations, and familiar busyness, yet underneath it all sits an invitation from God.

    This devotional series runs alongside our Songs for the Saviour sermon series this Christmas. It explores the four ‘songs’ of Luke’s Gospel, which in their historical Latin form are known as the Magnificat, Benedictus, Gloria in Excelsis, and Nunc Dimittis.

    During our services we will explore each passage more fully, but in these devotionals, I hope we will see how our story intersects with each of the characters of the narrative. They remind us that God doesn’t wait for perfect conditions or give much thought to impressive resumes or extraordinary strength and power. Instead, God works through ordinary, unvarnished, and fragile human lives.

    These devotionals are an invitation for us to pace ourselves this Christmas and remind us that the same grace that shaped those in the Christmas story is the same grace that continues to shape us.

    Mary – Luke 1:39–55

    When we least expect it, we often find God at work. Mary is a very ordinary girl, living in a very ordinary town, one that’s never made the travel bucket list of anyone, ever. But God arrives at her doorstep, with a calling that would change the rest of history. She doesn’t feel ready, she hasn’t been rehearsing for this moment, yet her response is remarkable. A response that shows courage and trust in the confusion.

    Mary’s song is a song from the heart, with evident joy and wonder from what she has just been told. She praises God’s power, mercy, and faithfulness, stepping into a future that is unknown and will make life complicated for her. Any plans Mary had are now disrupted, with more questions than answers at this point.

    Mary’s faith is an honest faith though. There is uncertainty, but she is still able to say in v38, “May your word to me be fulfilled.” What faith! And what an approach to take as disciples of God in Christ. Mary surrenders not knowing how everything will turn out, but she is trusting in the One who does.

    Mary’s place in Scripture reminds us that God doesn’t outsource His plans to the impressive. He gives His kingdom work to people who feel small and unimposing. People like her. People like us.

    Mary’s experience is certainly unique, but she is like the new mother who realises they are now responsible for far more than they imagined. She’s like the graduate teacher who is given a class she’s not sure she can handle. It’s that moment when responsibility arrives and confidence needs to catch up.

    It is in this space where God often does His finest shaping.

    This week, begin each day using Mary’s words as a basis for prayer, “Lord, let your word shape my life today”. This isn’t a task to get done, it’s a way of opening our day to God’s leading.

    Where might God be inviting you to offer Him a hesitant but faithful ‘Yes’ this Christmas?

  • Book Review: Spurgeon’s Sorrows – Realistic Hope for Those Who Suffer from Depression

    Would it surprise you to learn that one of the greatest preachers in Christian history, the so-called ‘Prince of Preachers’, struggled with depression throughout his life and ministry? 

    Charles Haddon Spurgeon, pastor of the Metropolitan Tabernacle in 19th-century London, preached to thousands weekly, wrote extensively, and continues to shape preachers today. Yet behind the sermons, quotes, and books was a man who often walked through deep fog and valleys of darkness.

    I have known for many years that Spurgeon battled various health concerns, and at least a little depression, but I hadn’t realised how pervasive it actually was. In reading Spurgeon’s Sorrows by Zack Eswine I gained a better picture of the man but also the depths to which his depression and anxiety impacted his life. The other surprising thing about this was how public and how often he spoke about it. This short little volume (just over 100 pages) really opens the reality of mental illness not just for believers but also for pastors. I know it’s not talked about often, if at all, and this book is so helpful and insightful for all saints and sufferers. 

    Our churches are full of people who are going through depression, anxiety, and all ranges of mental illness. We may not see it while interacting with them on a Sunday morning, but they sit there, often silently, battling the melancholy of the mind. Older people carrying the weight of loneliness, middle-aged adults questioning their position in life, young people navigating their identity and uncertain future. They may not look depressed but are sure to be there in the pews. 

    As Christians it is important to talk about this. The Psalms do. So does Job. So does Elijah. So does Paul. And so does Spurgeon. One reason I found this book helpful was the normalising of this conversation without reducing it to Christian cliches or simplistic solutions.

    To give you an idea of the depth of Spurgeon’s struggle he once said, 

    “The mind can descend far lower than the body, for in it there are bottomless pits. The flesh can bear only a certain number of wounds and no more, but the soul can bleed in ten thousand ways, and die over and over again each hour.”

    He knew the darkness that makes it hard to pray, to preach, to feel anything at all. That numbness that comes over us when walking through an unending fog. He writes about this kind of depression as something that comes uninvited and stays longer than is welcome. And yet, in all of this, he saw no contradiction between faith and depression. He writes elsewhere, “Depression of spirit is no index of declining grace”. 

    This is encouraging for us as believers. It’s comforting to hear this from someone who has lived faithfully under the weight of this burden. How often are we prone to think such a thought or such a condition may disqualify us of our belief? But it is not so!

    We walk with Christ in the valleys and on the mountaintops and everywhere in between. 

    Eswine writes with care and warmth. He doesn’t overreach. He lets Spurgeon speak and then offers reflections that feel more like a conversation. 

    In one part of the book Eswine lists various helps that Spurgeon would undertake to help him recover from these periods of flatness, which again was really helpful. But he goes on to talk about how, 

    “The melancholy life thrives when it runs marathons instead of sprints, or when it sprints often, only to rest often. You needn’t try to do “the most things” in “the fastest ways” anymore. To resist this is to have seasons of rest and nature forced upon us by breakdown.”

    This is helpful for all of us who find ourselves running too fast and living on the edge of our limits. Whether it’s burnout, exhaustion, or anxiety, there is the invitation to slow down and let go of that performance mentality. 

    At times Spurgeon himself described what it was like when the overwhelm was upon him.In a sermon called The Christian’s Heaviness and Rejoicing he preached these words:

    “I was lying upon my couch during this last week, and my spirits were sunken so low that I could weep by the hour like a child, and yet I knew not what I wept for…”

    How about that!? How raw. How open. How vulnerable and honest. It’s not the kind of thing we would hear out of a 21st-century preacher would we?

    The book, thankfully, doesn’t offer neat answers, tied up firmly like a shoelace. It doesn’t promise that darkness will lift, but what it does do is point to Christ. It points to Christ to declare that He is the one who truly understands what we may be going through. 

    I would recommend this book to anyone, it’s a must read. It’s five stars. If you’re a pastor it will do your own soul a truckload of good, and also help you walk with those who suffer from mental illness themselves. If you’re someone who experiences depression, or are in it now, then this book gives you a helpful and faithful voice to that which you struggle with. And if you walk with those who do walk the road of mental illness then this book might help you understand it a little more. 

    To close I can’t but leave you with one of my favourite quotes from Spurgeon about suffering and depression. While speaking about God providing all our needs from Philippians 4:19 he preaches,

    “Then comes our need in suffering, for many of us are called to take our turn in the Lord’s prison camp. Here we need patience under pain and hope under depression of spirit. Who is sufficient for furnace-work? Our God will supply us with those choice Graces and consolations which shall strengthen us to glorify His name even in the fires! He will either make the burden lighter, or the back stronger—He will diminish the need, or increase the supply.”

    Amazing. 

    How great that the Lord our God is with us through the troughs of life and will indeed supply us with everything we need. 

  • Pull Up A Pew

    Pull Up A Pew

    I’ve been toying around with poetry lately, both as a fun little exercise and something to learn and improve my writing.

    I wrote the following after reflecting on Matthew 14:23, where Jesus, even after all the ministry and miracles, withdraws alone to pray. I suspect many of us live in the tension of hurry and stillness, this is a kind of prayer from that place. An invitation to slow down and respond out of the rest in his presence.

    Pull Up A Pew

    Driven, my heart beats fast and faster
    Hurried, from one to the next
    The urgent crowds out my time and place
    To sit, be still, and seek your face. 

    The mind, it races on and on
    Thinking, what I ought to do
    So much, so many, so few pursue
    But here you call, pull up a pew.

    You stopped and went with task after task
    Up the mountain, where in the Father you bask
    Teach me your ways, for I forget
    Instead I find I just project.

    I want to stop and pray my Lord
    To find the rest you promise so
    To leave the work in your hands
    As you lead me to the silent lands.

    After dismissing the crowds, he went up on the mountain by himself to pray. Well into the night, he was there alone. – Matthew 14:23

  • The Ethics of AI: A Pastoral Reflection

    The Ethics of AI: A Pastoral Reflection

    AI is no longer just a buzzword or a new toy for those tech enthusiasts, is it? It’s here, beginning to expand its tentacles into our lives. Whether it’s at home, at work, our life admin, our church, and even our habits of thought and prayer, AI is making an impact. It’s fast. It’s smart (-ish). And if we’re honest, it can become slightly addictive. 

    Beyond the speed and fascination I’ve found myself asking some of those deeper questions about AI. Not about what it can do, but what it’s doing to me, to us. I’ve moved on from the question about whether it is right or wrong, and beginning to think through the way it forms me and my faith. What kind of person am I being shaped into, and is this coherent with the way of Jesus? 

    This is certainly not a how-to article on AI. Nor is it a listicle full of tips about the best apps or top tips in ethical AI use. Rather, it’s a reflection, a pastoral reflection seeking to bring to the top that question of, “Who am I becoming as I use this tech?”

    The reality is that tools don’t just serve us, they shape us. And AI, more than any other since the creation of the smartphone, is beginning to reach into parts of life where formation may already be fragile. 

    Worship Is Where Ethics Begins

    The starting point for Christian ethics is worship.

    Romans 12 doesn’t begin with behaviour. It begins with a posture drawn from the well of God. It says, 

    “In view of God’s mercy, offer your bodies as living sacrifices…”

    In other words, ethics isn’t just about what we do. It’s about how we live before God and who we are becoming because of God. It’s not just doing the ‘right’ things, it’s about the ‘who’ things. And so perhaps the first questions to ask ourselves is, “Is this helping me to live and worship and trust in God”? 

    This is where the hammer hits the nail for me. 

    AI, in all its cleverness, doesn’t only help me perform tasks. It makes me more efficient. It removes uncomfortable thinking, and sometimes thinking all together! And if I’m not careful it pushes me forward into a way of life that looks like a worldly hustle rather than the unhurried pace of the Spirit of God. 

    I’m not here to cry foul of all of AI, nor even say it is inherently wrong. I use it regularly. But I am saying we need to stop and reflect on how we are using it. I’m saying it’s worth watching closely its impact in not just our lives but in our hearts. If I don’t walk in the mercy of God, and stay firm in that foundation and identity, then I will find myself using these AI tools to keep producing and performing more and more. And I know if I walk that path then I’ll slowly but surely become less present to God, to others, and to myself. 

    The Promise and the Pushback

    A little while ago Kenny Jahng wrote an article called Beyond Binary Morality: How AI Challenges Traditional Christian Ethical Frameworks. It’s certainly worth your time to go and read. Kenny argues that AI reveals the limits of simple “right/wrong” categories. Algorithms, after all, aren’t choosing between good and evil by they’re weighing trade-offs, running probabilities, and calculating complexity.

    And in many ways, I agree with him. Wisdom in our time requires nuance (as it always has, no doubt). Neat moral boxes are beginning to be stretched for us, there is complexity and complication when thinking through Christian ethics of AI. 

    Where I found myself gently pushing back on this article, however, was the idea that AI might be the solution to pastoral overwhelm. As Kenny writes, many pastors feel burdened by tasks that don’t require their spiritual gifts—like creating policy and guidelines, doing administration, or making decisions on future projects and ministries without experience. Some of these aren’t soul-shaping tasks but just the cost of managing and navigating church life in the modern day. 

    AI, he argues, can be a relief valve.

    And he’s right, it can. It has been for me, in some areas of ministry. I’ve used it to help structure content, bring creativity to my thinking about ministry areas, and provide clearer communication to the church. This has meant I’ve had more time to focus on people, to be creative, and I’ve even found more time for prayer. But I do acknowledge there is another side to this. 

    That other side, the shadow side, is the fact that AI doesn’t remove the overwhelm, it can accelerate it. 

    If I don’t deal with what’s happening in my heart, the time I’ve saved won’t go to the priorities of prayer and preaching and other elements of what I call ‘Wordwork’, it’ll go to more output. More tasks. More tweaks. More production. More performance.

    This is why I keep coming back to remember that ethics begins with worship. When my use of AI is grounded in worship of God then the posture I hold is one of submission, surrender, and obedience. When it flows out of a need to produce, to prove myself, or to perform in front of others then it becomes something else. 

    Something that promises rest but quietly feeds the restlessness.

    Babel and the Illusion of Control

    That story from Genesis 11 is one that lives rent free in my mind at the moment. 

    “Come, let us build ourselves a city, with a tower that reaches to the heavens, so that we may make a name for ourselves…”

    The Tower of Babel is a story about autonomy. It’s about humans using their creativity not in response to God, but in competition with him.

    And I think it’s an image that speaks into our age of AI. Not because AI is evil, but because it tempts us to think like Babel: I can control more. I can create more. I can become more. 

    But we’re not created in God’s image to view our lives and all that it entails in this way. We’re not given such responsibility. We’re made to receive the mercy and grace of God. We’re made to live in communion with God, not as optimised beings. 

    As we explore AI’s possibilities it’s worth asking ourselves the question, “Are we building a life with God or are we building a life for ourselves? 

    The Way of Jesus

    The more I use AI, the more I feel the invitation to slow down.

    It’s one thing to use a tool. It’s another to let it use you. And I don’t want to become the person who outsources the very parts of life and ministry that form and shape me as a child of God. 

    Sermons aren’t just written, they’re lived. 

    Pastoral care isn’t just organised, it’s personal and relational. 

    Discipleship isn’t just explanation and knowledge, it’s years-long formation under God and his people. 

    The way of Jesus is still slow. It’s relational. It’s incarnational. It requires presence. And if AI helps me serve others better, I’ll use it. But if it pulls me away from the kind of person Jesus is shaping me to be then it might be time to put it down.

    If you’re interested to explore this further you can also listen to our church podcast where we are beginning to explore AI in the church. You can grab the episodes here or on YouTube.

  • God’s Glory in Jesus: An Easter Reflection

    God’s Glory in Jesus: An Easter Reflection

    I preached this little reflection as part of our Service of Shadows at our Easter Thursday evening gathering.

    Hebrews 1:3 describes for us a clear and powerful summary of who Jesus is.

    The Son is the radiance of God’s glory and the exact representation of his being, sustaining all things by his powerful word.

    What do we find of Jesus in this stunning sentence?

    1. He radiates.
    2. He represents.
    3. He sustains.

     First, he radiates.

    The Son is the radiance of God’s glory… (Hebrews 1:3)

    This is the image of light bursting forth from its source. Like the sun breaking through the clouds on an overcast day, with spots of light radiating through.

    Jesus doesn’t just reflect the glory of God, like a mirror reflects what is in front of it. Rather, he is the radiance of it. His light isn’t borrowed from somewhere or someone else, it actually comes from him directly. He is the light of the world after all (John 8:12). The glory of God shines through him.

    In a world clouded by confusion and darkness, Jesus is the one who shines clearly. If you’ve ever wondered what God is like, the answer is this Jesus, who radiates the heart of God.

    Second, he represents.

    …and the exact representation of his being… (Hebrews 1:3)

    He is the exacts representation of his being. Jesus isn’t a shadow or a copy. He’s not like a movie that has been adapted from a book, which never quite does the book justice. He’s not like a photocopied document, which is as never as clear as the original.

    He is the exact imprint of God’s nature. His character, his heart, and his holiness are all in Jesus.

    Colossians 1:15 says,

    “He is the image of the invisible God.”

    And in John 14:9, Jesus says,

    “Whoever has seen me has seen the Father.“

     In Jesus we don’t just get a glimpse of God—we get God himself.

    Jesus shouldn’t just remind us of God, he reveals God and makes the unknowable known.   

     Third, he sustains.

    …sustaining all things by his powerful word. (Hebrews 1:3)

    As we gather this evening, right now, Jesus is holding the universe together. He’s not straining to do this, he’s not finding it particularly difficult or has to put in a lot of effort, but he is doing this through his word.

    The breath we take, the turning of the earth in time, the presence and placement of the stars and the moon are all upheld by Jesus and his word.

    John 1:3 reminds us that,

    …through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made.

     And Colossians 1:17 tells us,

    He is before all things, and in him all things hold together.

    This Jesus, the one who we hear in each of the readings here in our Service of Shadows, readings that speak of Jesus’ mocking, bruising, and crucifying, but who is also the one who sustains the universe.

    Even though we will hear the end of Jesus’ earthly life through these readings, his power isn’t diminished by the cross. In fact, it is the other way around, his power is revealed through it.

    As we sit in stillness and walk through the shadows on the way to the cross we know that Jesus is (1) the radiance of God’s glory, and yet went to the cross for our sake. We know that he is (2) the exact representation of God’s nature, and yet sacrificed himself for you and for me. And we know that he is (3) the one who sustains all things, upholding our very lives, yet gave up his life for ours, taking our place on the cross for our restoration to God.