Easter Week 2025
Note: all Inspirations are uploaded in advance for this week – scroll down to find each day…
Saturday 26th April – John 17:1-7,20-23 ‘That they may be one…’
Let’s ask ourselves a cheeky question for a few moments: if Jesus was to visit earth for a while this year, which church would he join? Would he be a charismatic or a Catholic, an evangelical or a liberal? Is he secretly an Anglican or a Baptist or a Pentecostal? Would his requirements be very specific? Where we used to live in Clapham Junction, we regularly walked past a church called, and I kid you not: ‘The Ransom African Methodist Episcopal Zion Church’. Now there’s a church whose name is its doctrinal statement!
I’m sure most of us will be thinking two answers to my question. The one we’ll say aloud with a beatific smile on our face is: ‘Jesus would be happy to join lots of churches.’ The one we’ll be thinking is: ‘but I’m sure he’d prefer my church to the other lot round here.’ And from one perspective, that’s fine: to be honest, if we don’t think Jesus would want to join our church we’re in the wrong church.
But although we joke about it, there’s a real issue here. On one level, a huge movement like the church is going to have lots of faces, and we should celebrate that. On the other hand, the fragmentation and divisions should make us weep. It’s not what Jesus planned – look at what he prays in our passage for today – ‘That they may be one, as we are one.’ Jesus loves diversity, but not division. His desire is for us to be one.
As most of you know – but some may not – we are an ecumenical church. What that means is that several types of church – Anglican, Baptist, Methodist, Reformed and Catholic – have partnered together to be one church. It’s our little way of saying that what divides us is way less than what unites us. We will all disagree over some stuff, but being together as one community of Jesus is much more important.
And today’s passage reminds me why I want to be a minister leading that kind of church. It’s what Jesus wants for us. We might not always do it very well, and I’m sure there’s loads I could do better, but, as best we can, we’re trying to be faithful to what Jesus prayed for us: to be one, a community of love which in turn reflects his love to the world.
But this is not some wishy-washy ‘love is all you need’ type of message. It is based supremely in one act. ‘Glorify your Son,’ Jesus prays, and what he means is: glorify him as he gives his life on a cross. This is how we know what love is, St John reflects elsewhere – Jesus laid down his life for us. True love is selfless service: and as Jesus loved us, so we offer that to each other and to the world.
So, today, let’s celebrate that we are one; but let’s also remember that this one-ness calls us to offer ourselves for the good of others, wherever we are. Then the world will know that God sent Jesus and has loved us, even as God loved him. Amen.
Friday 25th April – Acts 17:16-28 ‘God in our hearts’
I wonder what is the greatest city you’ve visited? In our modern world, there are many such cities. I myself have lived most of my life in London, and I’ve been fortunate to visit some of the other great cities of the world.
In today’s passage, we find St. Paul in Athens: at the time the second greatest city on earth behind Rome, and unquestionably its greatest in terms of learning and culture. But I’m fascinated by Paul’s response to this experience: what he saw, what he did and what he felt. What Paul saw was not a city full of extraordinary buildings and unparalleled learning, but a city full of idols. What he felt was not awe at its grandeur, but distress at its spiritual ignorance. What he did was dedicate himself to sharing the good news of Jesus.
Paul saw through Athens’ impressive facade to its real heart: idolatrous and looking for wisdom in the wrong places. We human beings tend to create god or gods in our image, not the other way round – and St Paul is having none of it. His God, our God, the one true God, is not like this. He’s not small or only concerned with a part of our lives. Notice how he begins the key section of his sermon: ‘The God who made the world and everything in it is the Lord of heaven and earth.’ Our God is a great big God – he made the whole world, the whole universe is suffused with his presence.
And notice the three radical implications of this statement which immediately follow: first, ‘God does not live in temples built by human hands.’ How could he? How could any building be big enough to house this God? We humans have certainly tried, and who can fail to be awe-inspired by some of those buildings? But God is bigger than all of them; he’s not limited to certain places on earth or in our lives. There is no place on earth where Jesus can’t say: ‘This is mine.’
Second, God doesn’t need anything. Or as Paul says: ‘He is not served by human hands.’ He doesn’t need our libations or rituals to appease him or impress him. He is complete and whole within himself. We do all that stuff to try and make ourselves feel better, not God. And third, it is this God whose breath fills our lives: ‘He gives everyone life and breath and everything else.’
The true God is not limited to certain places or rituals or buildings, to certain boxes and compartments in our lives. He fills the whole universe, and all of our lives matter to him – every breath, every thought, everything that matters to us matters to Him as well. Or as Paul summarises beautifully later in his speech: ‘In him we live and move and have our being.’
Imagine a life where every moment is filled with God’s presence. We can bring every worry to him, we can cry every tear with him, we can share every joy with him, we can celebrate every blessing knowing that he is smiling with us. This is not fiction or pie in the sky: it is the reality of what Jesus came to bring us. God’s Spirit – in other words his very breath, his presence – comes to dwell in us. It is what you might call the with-God life.
And one prayer we can all pray for the church in this nation is that it would rise up again in our generation with this truth etched into every moment of our lives, wherever we are: ‘In him we live and move and have our being.’ Amen.
Thursday 24th April – John 14:1-6,27 ‘Jesus Our Way and Peace’
Receiving peace is one of the foundational themes of the New Testament. St Paul introduced all of his letters with the greeting: ‘Grace and Peace’. Grace is what enables us to know salvation and the zoe life of God within us; peace is the first and greatest outcome of this new life.
Peace is designed to be the hallmark of every dimension of our relationships. Peace with God, peace with others, peace with ourselves. We are called to peace. In Colossians 3:15, Paul writes: ‘Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace.’ Peace is not merely the absence of strife; it is the presence of harmony.
And peace is not merely a concept, such as not harming someone. Notice what Paul wrote: ‘Let the peace of Christ rule…’ The idea of peace is not what solves conflict; it is the peace of Jesus that provides the power to live and work in harmony.
So what is the peace of Jesus? It is “the peace that belongs to his kingdom by virtue of his sovereignty.” Jesus rules and reigns over everything: all creation, all humanity and all history. When we step into his reign (in other words, when we step into the kingdom of God), we step into his peace. We can now live in constant interaction with Jesus, and because of his protection, guidance and provision, we have nothing to fear; we can live with real confidence. In the kingdom of God we are safe, secure, valued and assured that God is with us.
And this assurance enables us to receive the peace of Christ, a peace that, as Jesus says the world cannot give; or as St Paul puts it elsewhere, a peace that surpasses all understanding.
It’s why Jesus is so emphatic when it comes to issues of worry, fear or anxiety. Have you noticed that Jesus never talks about these things in terms of advice or encouragement, but instead as a command? He doesn’t say: try not to worry, try not to fear, try not to be troubled… He commands it: ‘Do not worry, do not fear, do not be troubled.’
Of course we all face temptations to worry and fear, to un-peace as you might say. And Jesus knows that. But he also knows that the solution is not human effort or technique. The key to peace is found in him, and through him. He is the Way. Our peace is found in a person, one who has all the power and resources of the universe at his disposal. His perfect love casts out our fear.
And so he says to his disciples: Do not be troubled, because I am the way. All other worldviews, all other religious teachers, say: this is the way. Only Jesus says: ‘I am the way.’ The key to life is not a set of moral values or guidelines or principles, it’s a relationship. It’s a deep union of love with Jesus.
‘…and when you know that, you’ll know the right way to live, because I am the Truth. And you’ll have abundant life, because I am the Life.’
And so we can affirm these great words again today, and claim the peace that Jesus promises his followers. In these troubled times, we are surrounded by the shadow of death. And yet, we can also affirm, with hope and even joy, that peace is possible, a real peace, a peace that only Jesus can give, because he is the Way, the Truth and the Life. Amen.
Wednesday 23rd April – John 10:7-18 ‘The Good Shepherd’
Seven years ago, on the second Sunday of 2017, we were about to start the 9.30am service at St Mary’s, when one of our welcomers came and found me urgently. ‘Come outside, you’ll want to see this,’ they said. So I hustled out and watched one of the more unusual sights I’ve seen in my 9 years here. Running along the road, and just passing the churchyard gate, were about 50 sheep.
We had no idea where they had come from or where they were going. I don’t think they had any idea where they were going either! There was great excitement – some wag commented that our flock had swelled considerably that day. But anyway we delayed the start of our service to work out what on earth we were going to do with them. It took quite some time… but eventually, by lunchtime, the sheep were safely back in a nearby field.
What’s the moral of this story? ‘Never leave your gate open’ would be one of them. But more simply, sheep need a shepherd. Look what happens when a large flock is left to its own devices.
Jesus tells us today: ‘I am the good shepherd.’ Or to make it more personal: ‘I am your good shepherd. I know you and you know me. You know my voice, you know that life is better with me, because my life is dedicated to you.’
In these times we need the reassurance of that voice perhaps now more than ever. To know that we have a good shepherd leading us through the chaos and uncertainty, one who is totally dedicated to us, who walks with us and will never leave us, who comes to meet us where we are.
And our shepherd ultimately means to give us life – life in all its fullness. The Greeks had two different words for ‘life’ – bios and zoe. ‘Bios’ means physical existence – simply being alive, breathing. ‘Zoe’ is real life – spiritual life, wellbeing, wholeness. This is the word Jesus uses here when he says that his purpose for us is abundant life – abundant zoe.
We are wired for zoe life. It’s built into our DNA, because we are made in God’s image, so therefore we long for the same things God already has within himself. Even those who would not profess our faith long for deep relationship, strong community, fruitful lives and to rejoice in the beauty of our world.
But to really know this kind of wholeness, this abundant zoe life, we need to receive it from the one who made it – the Good Shepherd himself, Jesus Christ. By God’s grace we can all experience it in part: but the fullness is only found in Christ. He is the gate, he’s the way to know this true life, he’s the one who can plant it deep in our hearts. Without him, we get the temporary ‘hired hands’ version, not the real thing.
So today, let’s give thanks for our Good Shepherd. Let’s acknowledge our need for him, let’s invite him to lead us again. And let’s do that confident of this great truth: that his plan for us is true life, zoe life, life in all its fullness. Amen.
Tuesday 22nd April – Luke 24:13-35 ‘Emmaus’
I wonder if any of you have ever had the experience of talking with someone you didn’t recognise, and then later discovering that they were famous? In 2015 Cristiano Ronaldo, the world’s most famous footballer, disguised himself and went out to play football in one of Madrid’s central plazas for an hour. Almost no-one gave him the time of day. Most walked by quickly, embarrassed at the thought they might be asked for money by someone who looked more or less like a tramp. Eventually one little boy joined in properly, and passed the ball around with this stranger and tried to tackle him. After a while, the stranger picked up his ball, asked the boy’s name, signed the ball… and then took off the disguise bit by bit.
As you can imagine, at that point pandemonium broke out. The last scene on the secretly-filmed video was of Ronaldo walking out of the square surrounded by a great entourage of dozens of fans. Unlike Jesus, not even Ronaldo could disappear from their sight!
The image that stayed with me, though, was the face of the little lad just after he realised what he’d done, that he’d actually not just met one of the world’s most famous people, but played 1-on-1 and even tackled him. He was overcome with emotion and buried his face in his mum’s coat.
That sense of overwhelming emotion was probably just a fraction of what would have been experienced by Cleopas and his friend. Can you imagine suddenly realising that you’d just spent the day with God himself, their Lord and friend Jesus? And they hadn’t even realised!
The road to Emmaus is such a wonderful story, and there’s so much we could say about it. How Jesus opened their hearts to the Scriptures and showed them how his coming was written throughout the ages of the Old Testament. How Jesus met them in the breaking of bread and everything that tells us about both hospitality and sharing communion. How we can rejoice in further evidence of the resurrection as Jesus widens the circle of people he appears to, people who will witness to the glorious truth of our faith in the years to come.
All of those are great to reflect on – but I just want to pick up on one simple point that the story tells me today. And it’s this – when we know and love Jesus, when we follow him, we are never alone. Jesus walks with us every step of the way. We never walk alone.
Like the disciples, we might not always recognise him. There are times in our lives, tough times, when it seems like there is just one set of footprints in the sand, as the famous story goes. But the point is not that God has left us, rather that we haven’t recognised his presence at that point. He is still there, still whispering truth into our ears, still breaking bread with us.
That is a message which encourages me in this challenging season. Many of you may have asked yourselves the question this year: where is Jesus? Or maybe others have voiced it to you. Perhaps it’s something that has affected you in the past, or that you fear in the future.
The story of Emmaus tells me that Jesus is right there with us. He has never left us. He walks with us, he guides us, he shares with us. It was an extraordinary coincidence – or God-incidence – that in 2020 on the day the church told this story, the song at the top of the charts has this as its chorus – and could there be a better word from God to us today: Walk on, walk on, with hope in your hearts. And you’ll never walk alone. You will never walk alone. Amen.
Monday 21st April – John 20:19-31 ‘Thomas’
Poor old Thomas. Imagine being the one character of history who gets the nickname ‘doubting’. Other famous people get tagged with ‘The Brave’ or ‘The Wise’ or ‘The Just’. And Thomas was at least two of those things: by reputation he later founded the church in India, which is quite a brave and wise thing to do. But no, for all that he did before and after, he’s forever known as the Doubter.
In recent years a new term has come into our language – FOMO. It’s an acronym, it stands for Fear Of Missing Out, and modern psychologists have concluded that this is one of the great drivers of our current Western society. Largely driven by the way technology has crept into every part of our lives, we hate to miss out on things more than ever before. It’s why so many people are always checking their social media, or the news, or their phones every few minutes – as a society many of us have developed FOMO: a deep fear of missing out.
And when we look at Thomas we can see why – if anyone should get a case of FOMO it would be Thomas. He didn’t just miss the latest celebrity news, or the latest video of dogs which look uncannily like Winston Churchill, he missed the resurrection of the Son of God! He missed seeing his friend and leader do something which had never been done in the whole of human history – come back from the dead.
So maybe we can feel some sympathy. Thomas reacted as most of us do when we miss something really great, our sadness tends to turn into petulance. It’s a natural response fuelled by hurt: it’s a way of saying: ‘Jesus needs to make it up to me, because it’s not fair that I’ve missed out.’ And maybe that’s something we all feel at points in our lives, when things don’t work out as we think they should.
We hold these two great things in tension – God is sovereign, he’s in charge; and yet he also gives us free will, so most of the time we can get on with things. The problem I’ve observed with most of the answers to difficult events is that they tend to focus on one of these extremes or the other: it’s either all us, or all God. And so we shout at God, or we shout at our leaders or some other scapegoat.
The story of Thomas tells me that God’s answer is different. Jesus doesn’t reason with us, or argue it out: he comes to meet us where we are. Jesus’ answer to Thomas’ hurt is simply his presence. ‘Put your hands here, and here…’ Just like Job in the Old Testament, God’s answer to the difficult questions is the gift of his presence. Here I am: ‘your Lord and your God’.
And the great truth of our faith is that he still comes to meet us. He breathes the breath of His Spirit on us just as he breathed on his disciples, and utters those glorious words: ‘Peace be with you.’
My prayer is that the warmth of Jesus’ presence will come to each one of us today, and this week, and throughout this season. And I encourage us to invite that presence every day, to offer a simple prayer: ‘Jesus I need you, come close to me, come dwell with me today’ – that we might too receive the blessing of Jesus that he gave to his disciples: ‘blessed are you who have not seen and yet have believed… Peace be with you.’
Holy Week 2025
Easter Sunday 20th April – Mark 16:1-8 ‘Son-rise at Sunrise’
There’s nothing like a good sunrise, is there? When Jeremiah thinks about God and describes His mercies as ‘new every morning’ there’s something that rings true about that when we see the sun rise. Whatever our circumstances, our spirits lift, as light floods into the world once again.
Sunrise is glorious, and yet curiously un-noticed. The fact that it happens every single day means that many of us take it for granted. It’s so regular, so much part of the fabric of existence, it’s largely ignored. For all that, though, we need it: the earth can’t function without sunlight. If you like to watch wildlife programmes, one thing you’ll notice about parts of the world that have long periods of darkness is that very few people, animals and plants live in them. Creation needs the sun. The sun is constantly bringing us new life. Sunrise every morning is life-giving, a sign of new life.
Today is Easter Sunday, and we celebrate another kind of sunrise – with a change of just one letter, we celebrate SON-RISE. And Mark’s gospel tells us that on that first Easter day, the two coincide: just after sunrise, it says, the two Marys and Salome go to the tomb. The world-changing event happens at dawn: Son-rise at sunrise. And as we gaze on that empty tomb this morning, we can note that this son-rise can also be described with those same 3 words:
It’s glorious. Look at the details: not just the angel, Matthew in his gospel also tells us about the earthquake, the brilliant light. Just think about what it would be like to witness someone rise from the dead… When Jesus rises from the dead it’s extraordinary. Hard-bitten Roman soldiers fall to the ground in awe. The angel has to say to the women: ‘Don’t be alarmed.’ Son-rise is glorious. It still is, by the way. As we gather today along with millions of others around the world, may God capture our hearts again with a vision of his glory, as his Son rises gloriously from the dead.
It’s unnoticed. At least, it is by most of our culture. Over Easter weekend you’ll get more news about travel on a bank holiday weekend than about the resurrection. Most shops will be open every day this weekend. Life for many goes on as normal. And yet, for those prepared to look, this Son-rise is the treasure hidden in the field of that famous parable: the glorious, beautiful secret of God’s life and love meeting with humanity and changing our lives forever.
And that is ultimately what the son-rise is about, isn’t it? It’s lifegiving. Jesus rises to new life, but it’s not just for him: He promises that all those who follow him will receive that life too. That’s why, when we declare ‘Jesus is alive’, we are declaring the most profound, life-changing statement in all history. The disciples who met the risen Jesus couldn’t help but worship him. Millions of people around the world who gather to celebrate this good news can’t help but worship him.
Perhaps the son-rise will be unnoticed by many today – but it remains as glorious and life-giving as ever. May God grant us all grace to cry with joy: Alleluia, Christ is risen!
Saturday 19th April – Mark 15:37-47 ‘Mary and Joseph’
It’s a strange coincidence in the gospel narrative that Jesus’ earthly life starts with a Mary and a Joseph, and ends with a Mary and a Joseph – just a different pair. It’s true that Jesus’ mother is also in Jerusalem in Holy Week and John’s gospel records her as being by the cross when Jesus dies. But a different Mary takes centre stage here: Mary Magdalene.
This was the Mary who had been healed and restored by Jesus (Luke 8:2) and who afterwards became one of Jesus’ most faithful friends. This faithfulness was rewarded by the extraordinary privilege of being the first to meet Jesus after his resurrection (John 20:14). But in today’s passage we see her supporting Jesus, watching and waiting both at the cross (v40) and at the tomb (v47).
This suggests strongly that she followed Jesus wherever he went that day – even his lifeless body, quickly carried to the tomb by Joseph (and others) as sunset drew nigh. All of Jesus’ twelve closest (male) friends had disappeared: but Mary, and several other women, were still there.
Joseph of Arimathea’s story is different. If Mary had likely been a social outcast before she met Jesus, Joseph was wealthy and powerful, ‘a prominent member of the Council’ (v43). But he had been no less impacted by Jesus – we don’t know exactly how, but the text tells us that he was ‘himself waiting for the kingdom of God.’ This is shorthand for a devout faith, but the fact that he took this bold step of caring for Jesus’ body when so many others had fled suggests that he saw in Jesus the fulfilment of God’s purposes for his kingdom.
And so these two unlikely characters, from opposite ends of society, come to play a key role in the story of God at this climactic moment. As Holy Week draws to its dramatic and joyful conclusion, it reminds us that Jesus’ message – and his kingdom – are for everyone; and everyone is able to play their part in God’s purposes. Mary’s is a story of healing and presence, Joseph’s a story of boldness and influence; Mary’s friendship with Jesus lasted years, Joseph only appears in the narrative now; but they have one thing in common – they are faithful friends to Jesus.
Holy Week is ultimately about Jesus’ faithfulness to God and to us. But this extraordinary love demands a response. Jesus is our most faithful friend: will we be a faithful friend in return? The way that we express that might be different, unique: but our calling is the same. ‘Surely this man is the Son of God!’ How will we respond?
Lord Jesus, thank you for all that you did for me. Thank you for the examples of Mary and Joseph, touched by you, and faithful in their love. Help me to be faithful to you, my most faithful friend. Amen.
Note for Good Friday: take a few moments to read Mark 15:1-39 and spend time at the foot of the cross.
Thursday 17th April – Mark 14:43-72 ‘Witness statements’
I’ve never yet been asked to give evidence in a court room. Once I almost did: I’d submitted written testimony and was expecting to be cross-examined. It was only a civil case, not a criminal one, but even so, I was so nervous I forgot to put a belt on when getting ready at home, only realising when I was halfway along the street. I had to dive into a shop near the train station and buy one on the way, or I would have had to keep my hands in my trouser pockets throughout to stop a clothing malfunction! Not a good look before a judge….
Thankfully my written evidence was accepted without dispute, and my trousers stayed secure: but it was a sobering reminder of the power of a witness statement. In today’s passage Jesus is surrounded by many witnesses, one after the other – however none of them were the sort you’d want on your side at your time of need. Each witness gave their own ‘testimony’:
A kiss – from his friend Judas.
A sword – to win Jesus’ freedom through terror.
A club – from those crowding round to arrest him.
A garment – left by the young man who fled. Many have often wondered if this was Mark himself, quietly admitting his own failure of nerve.
A lie – from those recruited by Jesus’ enemies to try and smear his name.
A rip – from the High Priest as Jesus quoted Daniel before him, a gloriously true prophecy which sealed his fate.
A denial – from his best friend Peter. Or rather three denials, before the rooster declares his cowardice.
As we reflect on the enormity of Jesus’ sacrifice, we hold in our minds Jesus’ call for each of us to be witnesses. And yet, so often we may feel like one or more of these people, offering faulty testimony. A denial here, a betrayal there….
It is hard to read today’s passage without being humbled. But in the midst of the storm, we also claim this truth: Jesus knows. No failure of ours is new to him: he saw it all in Holy Week, indeed in this one night. And still he loves. Still he forgives. Still he speaks a word of reassurance to us, just as he did to Peter.
We will never plumb the depths of his love: but we can marvel in it, and receive it afresh today.
Faithful Lord, thank you that no failure of ours puts us beyond your love. You were let down in every way: and still you were faithful to your calling. Give us grace to receive your astonishing forgiveness, and to be empowered to be your witnesses, for your precious sake. Amen.
Wednesday 16th April – Mark 14:32-42 ‘Not what I will’
The will – it’s a strange and slightly mysterious thing, isn’t it? We first start to see it when a child is just a few months old, newly weaned – turning their nose up at one mouthful of food only to embrace another.
Wills famously start to assert themselves strongly as toddlers. The battles all of us parents will remember! Usually over little things, but nonetheless important, as ultimately it’s about who’s in charge. And this sense of the will lives on in those who are described as ‘strong-willed’, which is often a euphemism for people who like to get their own way!
The will is a statement not just of authority but of intent. When couples get married they don’t say ‘I do’ (sorry to disappoint you), but ‘I will’. Even our last wishes are declared by – you guessed it – a will.
Wills matter. The great spiritual writer Watchman Nee defined the soul as the combination of the mind, the emotions and the will. It differs from the other two precisely because it defines where (and to whom) our gaze is directed. If the mind gives us the what and why, and the emotions the how, the will focuses us on the where and to whom. In matters of life and faith, whose will prevails?
All of which leads perfectly onto the heart of this passage today. Here we see two battles of the will, both within a person or people. For the disciples, the tussle is relatively straightforward: their spiritual desire to support their friend Jesus versus their physical desire to sleep on a warm, dark evening after a large meal.
For Jesus, the battle is much more intense, life (and death) defining even. Jesus’ destiny hangs in the balance: he knows what lies ahead, and he faces the ultimate test of the will: his own, human will to avoid it, clashing with what he knows his Father’s will to be.
The struggle is immense: he describes himself to his friends as ‘overwhelmed with sorrow’; in Luke’s account, his anguish is so intense it bursts blood vessels near the skin surface, so he literally sweats blood. Whose will will prevail?
As we observed earlier, it all comes down to authority and intent. Ultimately Jesus was completely obedient to one authority, and one alone – his Father’s. And this determined his intention. After hours of wrestling, he comes to the earth-shattering, earth-changing decision: ‘Yet not what I will, but what you will.’ Nine words which change the universe, the course of history, the future of humanity.
The contrast with the disciples is so stark, it’s almost tragically funny. Jesus wrestles for his life while they wrestle with their eyelids. How like us! How wonderful, then, to know that our future rests in Jesus’ perfect obedience rather than ours.
And may that hope of a secure future, thanks to Jesus’ costly obedience, also give us inspiration and courage to surrender to God’s will in the little – and not-so-little – callings of our lives.
Courageous God, I am in awe of your obedience. Thank you, thank you that you said ‘Not what I will.’ Help me to will as you will, because I know that you are good. Amen.
Tuesday 15th April – Mark 14:12-31 ‘All fall away’
The journey of Jesus through Holy Week is, among many things, a journey from crowds to loneliness. The great throng of Palm Sunday becomes the large crowd in the temple; then the smaller gathering at Bethany, moving on to the Last Supper with his disciples; then just Peter, James and John in Gethsemane, until finally Jesus is arrested and is completely alone. Listeners left, followers gone, friends fled.
The narrative becomes more intense, claustrophobic. Today Jesus prepares to eat the Passover (v13), then at the celebration itself talks of betrayal (v18) and his own shed blood (v24). He finishes the meal with an evening walk where he finally comes clean: ‘you will all fall away.’ (v27)
It is a stark and sobering admission, and not surprisingly his friends, buoyed not just by wine and conversation, but an evening reflecting on God’s sovereign activity in history, don’t agree. A tight-knit huddle, they’ve weathered all storms – literal and spiritual – for three years. They’re just not the ‘falling away’ types – especially not gung-ho, have-a-go Peter. ‘Even if all fall away, I will not.’
We all know what happens next, and we’ll reflect some more on it over the coming days. But I’m always struck by the disconnect between words and deeds. Between brave declarations, and craven response. Between intention and action. Or as Jesus puts it shortly: ‘The Spirit is willing’ – it usually is – ‘but the flesh is weak.’
And as we gaze back at these iconic scenes with 2,000 years’ perspective – two millennia of knowledge and experience – it strikes me that the only honest response is simply this: there but for the grace of God go I. Go any of us. The disciples are just like us: true of heart and easily scattered. How many times has the rooster crowed for each of us?
And yet… and yet…. Jesus is still Jesus. Still full of compassion and mercy, still slow to anger and of great goodness. Still able to welcome us back with our blushing, tear-stained cheeks. And in this famous meal he gives us, this simple but glorious act of remembrance, we are able each time to acknowledge our weakness, and praise his strength; to lament our faithlessness and rejoice in his faithfulness; to receive mercy and forgiveness again. Every time we eat this bread and drink this cup, we proclaim the Lord’s saving death until he comes.
Even as they gather to celebrate the Passover, Jesus knows they will all desert him within hours – and yet he gives them this wonderful sign of his love anyway. That is grace – and it is grace we remember today. As the old hymn puts it so well: ‘When Satan tempts me to despair, and tells me of the guilt within: upwards I look and see him there, who made an end of all my sin.’ Amen, thank you Jesus.
Loving Lord, there but for your grace I would have gone so many times. Thank you for your mercy and love. Make my weak knees strong, and stand by my side always. Amen.
Monday 14th April – Mark 14:1-11 ‘Extravagant love’
In our church, we’re blessed to be able to worship in a beautiful, inspiring building. Despite being made with wooden scaffolds, rudimentary tools and makeshift mortar, it has stood for hundreds of years, and is likely to for hundreds more. Most of us sucked in our breath and felt a sense of thrill when we first stepped inside it. Many of us do even now. Imagine what it must have been like for the mediaeval peasant folk who lived around it in timber dwellings? Imagine the awe, the sense of glory and mystery – all pointing to the great God in whose name it was built.
The church is really the people, of course it is – and we must beware idolatry of bricks and mortar. But all the same, a glorious building not only inspires worship, but represents an act of worship in itself. It’s not often that we think of the cost of building it. How on earth does a poor agrarian subsistence economy finance such luxury? What did it cost each peasant family to pay their taxes over decades to see it built? Yes, it certainly provided much needed employment and a focus for the identity of the village – but I wonder how many times a family went hungry or made some other sacrifice to see it built? What poverty might have been alleviated if the money hadn’t been spent on a building at least ten times larger than anything around it, whose sole purpose was for worship?
When we start to ask these questions, we get to the heart of today’s famous but unsettling story. We love the image of the woman anointing Jesus’ head with this very expensive perfume, but many of us no doubt share the disciples’ sentiments. Jesus had just challenged the financial corruption of the temple officials, and yet here he was a few days later, apparently condoning an act of wasteful, reckless extravagance. Surely there are better ways to spend money wisely?
But Jesus is having none of it. Yes, we should always care for those who need it, as Jesus advises – but he also reminds us that the first and primary object of our attention is Jesus himself. Jesus’ own love for us is extravagant, reckless even – the end of this week proves it, beyond a shadow of a doubt – and so, too, he commends extravagant love returned. This woman’s costly worship, done for no other reason than to demonstrate her adoration of her Lord, is ‘a beautiful thing’.
The woman could never have known that Jesus’ prediction would come true: ‘wherever the gospel is preached throughout the world, what she has done will also be told, in memory of her.’ Just as the poor mediaeval families who made sacrifices for decades to pay for and build our church building could never have known that 700 or 800 years later, people would still be gasping as they enter, people would still be offering their worship to God with hearts and hands raised in adoration – that their offering of extravagant love would remain powerful, inspiring, enduring. It is a beautiful thing.
As Holy Week begins, take time to reflect on the reckless, extravagant love of God for you – yes, you! The love that led to extraordinary sacrifice. Let’s acknowledge that too often we become people who know ‘the price of everything and the value of nothing.’ Let’s recommit ourselves to extravagant worship, reflecting the wild, reckless love of our Creator. It is a beautiful thing.
Loving Jesus, thank you for your extravagant love for me. My love for you so often has limits. Help me to love you as you love me. Open my eyes to see what the woman at Bethany saw. Thank you. Amen.
Lent
New Daily Inspirations take a break from Ash Wednesday (5th March) through Lent – they will return in Holy Week, Monday 14th April. Our team of churches are enjoying devotions from a great book called ‘The Rest is Worship’ for this season. You can also check out our extensive back catalogue of previous series. Many other organisations are offering daily reflections for Lent, including the Church of England and the Bible Society. Stewardship charity also offer their ’40 acts’ for Lent. May the Lord bless us all richly in this special season.
New Year 2025 – The Book of Ephesians
For the first few weeks of 2025, we’ll taking our inspiration from the wonderful book of Ephesians.
Tuesday 4th March – Ephesians 6:21-24 ‘Peace and grace’
And so, we come to our final instalment in this wonderful little book – what a journey it’s been. 46 days, and we’ve barely scratched the surface! At least, it feels like that – Ephesians is so rich, you can never really plumb its depths. But, hopefully, we’ve dipped a big toe in the water, and discovered that the water’s lovely.
I love the endings of these letters – it’s that point when Paul throws in some personal greetings and bits of news. However, in line with our opening reflection, if, as we surmise, this is more of a circular written to multiple churches, of which we have the surviving edition to Ephesus, then, not surprisingly, we’re a bit light on these individual flourishes. All we have is the messenger appointed to take Paul’s letter from his prison cell to his readers: Tychicus.
Tychicus is actually mentioned a number of times in the New Testament. He was clearly a close friend of Paul, who accompanied him to Jerusalem (Acts 20:4) in all likelihood with the financial collection for the Lord’s people in Jerusalem and Judea (gathered from other churches, and mentioned in 1 Corinthians 16:1-4). Along with delivering this letter to Ephesus, he does something similar for the Colossians (4:7-9) and is mentioned as well in Titus (3:12) and 2 Timothy (4:12) – in fact, in the latter epistle, Paul tells Timothy: ‘I sent Tychicus to Ephesus’ – who knows, to deliver this very letter, or perhaps on a later occasion to offer further pastoral support?
Paul describes Tychicus elsewhere as ‘a dear brother, a faithful minister and fellow servant in the Lord,’ (Colossians 4:7) whose role is to ‘encourage you’ (v22, and also Col 4:8). Here was a postman who was a living embodiment of some of the principles of this letter! You can imagine how much easier it must have been for this small church community to envisage the vital nature of God’s people as a Spirit-filled dwelling (ch2), or what a life of love and light looks like (ch5), when you have an example right in front of you.
It reminds us that our faith is always embodied. We don’t believe in abstract principles, we believe in a person – Jesus, the Christ, the Son of God, the Word made flesh, the light of the world and the love of God incarnate. We follow this Jesus, learning to think as he thinks, love as he loves and live as he lives. Our faith is caught, as well as taught.
Finally, we come full circle: having begun with grace and peace, Paul concludes with a blessing of peace (v23) and grace (v24). It’s a fitting way to end – along with faith and love (v23), we never really move away from these fundamentals. So, as we draw these reflections to a close, pray these blessings for yourself, and for the sisters and brothers on your heart today. And may the Lord grant us all grace to ‘love our Lord Jesus Christ with an undying love.’ Amen.
Monday 3rd March – Ephesians 6:18-20 ‘Always keep on praying’
Prayer is hard. Wherever you’re reading this, put your hand up if you find prayer easy. I can’t see you, obviously – but I already know that no-one has their hand up at this point!
It is both an encouragement and a challenge to see that this amazing letter, written by Paul to the followers of Jesus in Ephesus, is bathed in prayer – at the beginning, the middle and the end. Having outlined all our spiritual blessings in Christ, Paul ‘keeps asking’ in chapter 1 for his readers to know more of the hope, riches and power of this same Christ in their lives. He then prays another iconic prayer in chapter 3: for us to grasp the awesome love of Christ, who dwells in our hearts by faith.
He finishes that prayer by reminding us that God can ‘do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine’ – which is a good introduction to this final encouragement to pray. Having just shared candidly about the reality of the spiritual battle, he knows we need to trust in our mighty God to keep us, and also to keep intervening on our behalf! It is entirely natural, therefore, that his next words turn to prayer: ‘pray in the Spirit,’ he writes (v18). This could be a reference to special languages like tongues, but more likely it covers all types of prayers directed to (and by) God.
As Paul goes on to say, there is no limit to when and how we can pray: we pray on ‘all occasions… with all kinds of prayers and requests… for all the Lord’s people.’ Not just some occasions, or some types of prayer, for some types of people: but all occasions, all types of prayer, for all people!
It’s easy to forget that Christian prayer is wonderfully liberating. So many other worldviews limit prayer to certain places or certain words or certain rituals; but followers of Jesus can pray all the time, anywhere, using any words that Jesus can put his name to. What freedom! What access to Almighty God in heaven!
After offering so much prayer for his readers, it seems entirely fitting that Paul finishes with a short prayer request of his own – and its content might surprise us. He’s in prison, but he doesn’t pray for his personal circumstances, or to be set free, or for kinder guards, or more visitors. He prays that he would continue to have opportunities to share the good news, and that, when those opportunities come, he would make the most of them: ‘pray that I may declare it fearlessly, as I should’ (v20).
Paul may be getting on in years, and find himself in difficult circumstances, but the fire in his heart burns as brightly as ever. Most powerfully of all, he is free. He may be in chains, but he lives with more freedom than most of us ever do. May the Lord grant us all a taste of that ‘soul freedom’, and may we offer all our prayers (for all kinds of people) in faith and trust to our glorious God today. Amen.
Saturday 1st March – Ephesians 6:14-17 ‘The armour of God’
Today’s reflection is effectively ‘part 2’ of yesterday’s. We finished with Paul giving us two pieces of profound wisdom, of which we focused on the first: that our calling is to stand. In the face of whatever challenges which present themselves, especially those which relate to what you might call ‘the spiritual battle’, we stand – and keep standing.
But we do not stand on our own. We are strong in God’s mighty power, not ours (v10). And the second piece of wisdom Paul gives us in this special scripture is that God’s gives us this power through special armour: ‘the armour of God’ (v13).
This is spiritual armour to wear for the challenging seasons of our lives, the days which feel like a battle – or indeed, every day! There are six items he names: first, the belt of truth. Right before a battle, a Roman solider would tuck his tunic into his belt. In other words the belt of truth holds everything in place and makes us ready for battle.
He then goes on to list the following pieces of armour, which are really Spirit-filled realities or virtues: of righteousness, a godly life which, like a breastplate, guards our heart; of the good news (gospel) which leads our feet to places where God wants us to be; of faith, which, like a shield, parries the lies and doubts which weaken our resolve; of salvation, the ultimate reality which, like a helmet, guards our minds.
All of these items are defensive. Our calling is to stand, and not to attack. But there is one weapon which can be used positively – the sword. It is the ‘sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God’ (v17). Since Jesus has ultimate authority in the universe, his Word and his Spirit are the two things which take the fight to the enemy. They don’t rest on our power, but his.
And we too must use the power of God’s word in our daily battles. God’s truth unmasks the lies that bring us down, and robs them of their power. When we feel useless, God’s word tells us we are loved and special. When we lack hope, God’s word tells us there is always hope. When we think we can’t be forgiven and feel ashamed, God’s word tells us that Christ forgives us completely and sets us free from sin. God’s word is our spiritual sword.
So, today, lay claim to this armour. You already wear it – but there’s no harm choosing to put it on again (v11), tightening those straps, polishing the plate. It’s the power of God which enables you to stand. And if there’s a particular issue which needs the Sword of the Spirit, then may the Lord lead you to a particular scripture which blesses you today. Amen.
Friday 28th February – Ephesians 6:10-13 ‘After all, to stand’
One of the most memorable places I’ve ever visited is the Giants Causeway in Northern Ireland. It’s an iconic place: all those thousands of basalt columns leading down to the sea. And, being a self-assured (euphemism for arrogant) young man in my 20s I decided to ignore the large signs telling you not to step out too far and clambered on the columns right out to the sea. It was amazing to feel the power of nature all around… until a large wave broke over the columns and almost swept me out into the swirling tide. I just about held my balance on the edge of the rocks and retreated quickly, my trousers soaked all the way up my thighs.
When I read today’s passage I think of that moment stood on the columns of the Giant’s Causeway. It’s a good image of what Paul has in mind here. We need a firm place to stand, while the tide swirls around us. Sometimes that tide swirls around our feet, or higher. The big difference is that we don’t stand in our own strength: ‘Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power.’
Sometimes, life is a battle. And there’s no harm in admitting that. Generally, we feel less comfortable with the martial metaphors in the bible than we used to be. We prefer the images of building, or growing, or running – and, perhaps, rightly so. These are all positive, life-affirming ways of describing the journey of faith. But they don’t reflect the full picture. Obstacles and opposition are noticeably absent in those images.
As Paul finishes his letter to the young church in Ephesus, and to all of us – a letter which is full of images of building and growing – he reminds his readers of another reality. That following Jesus can be challenging, that there are powers in this world (both natural and spiritual) which are opposed to us. These powers are ultimately influenced (or controlled) by the devil (v12), who schemes to disrupt our journey of faith (v11).
What does that actually look like? To be honest, mostly those schemes are mundane. C.S. Lewis in his classic work ‘The Screwtape Letters’ makes the point that the devil does most of his work unnoticed. He presents us with little distractions which undermine the spiritual progress we’re making. Or we let negative emotions build up in us: Paul describes earlier in the letter how nursing anger ‘gives the devil a foothold’ (4:27) – literally a ‘ledge’ where he can stand and whisper nasty things into our ear.
We also have to recognise that the world’s power structures largely do not recognise God, and often oppose his work. This is what Paul has in mind, I think, when he talks about ‘the rulers… authorities… powers of this dark world.’ Think of the authorities in many countries refusing permission for churches to be built, or arresting pastors for sharing their faith. Corrupt human power often hates the idea that there is a Higher Power they will one have to answer to.
Whatever we face – be it subtle distraction, destructive emotions or a hostile culture – Paul gives us two powerful, hopeful, life-giving pieces of wisdom. We’ll look at the second in detail tomorrow, but the first is this: we are to stand. Not to run, or hide, but simply to stand our ground (v13). That is all the Lord asks of us.
If you are a follower of Jesus, your feet are planted firmly on a rock – a rock ‘which does not move grounded firm and deep in the Saviour’s love,’ as the old hymn puts it. Today, pray simply this: for grace to stand… and after your have done everything, to keep standing. We do it in his mighty power, and his alone. Amen.
Thursday 27th February – Ephesians 6:5-9 ‘Wholehearted service’
I remember, when I was first ordained curate in Bristol diocese, meeting the Bishop of Bristol for the first time. He was leading an induction session for all of us new curates, and I found myself on the same table as him at lunchtime. I knew he was an avid football fan, as am I… but somehow I couldn’t bring myself to talk about the upcoming weekend’s fixtures with a bishop! I then thought I should talk about something… but I felt like the school swot asking about churchy things. The upshot is that I barely said a word all meal; so much for making a good impression.
It’s often hard to be yourself around your boss. And, before we look at what Paul teaches about the workplace in today’s passage, let’s note that these letters were originally designed to be read aloud to the church meeting – which means that slaves and their masters were sat in the same room, worshipping Jesus together, sharing bread and wine around the table together, as equals before God. This was truly revolutionary in the society of that time. It also makes my unease eating with my ‘boss’ pale by comparison!
We know that this revolutionary new society was not without its challenges. St James is very blunt in his biblical letter about church communities where social inequalities were sadly reinforced. It’s also worth noting that the New Testament is pragmatic about the reality of slavery. This does not mean that slavery was ever endorsed, far from it – the church leaders simply acknowledged that a tiny faith group was never going to be able to overthrow systemic structures in their generation, especially since they were sure that Jesus was returning soon and would sort all that out himself. Instead, they undermined and challenged those structures by attempting to model something different – by welcoming all levels of society as full members of a worshipping community.
Paul also takes the opportunity to teach a similar set of principles to those he has outlined over the last two days. Remarkably, he gives both slaves and masters the same command: (v7) ‘serve wholeheartedly, as if you were serving the Lord, not people.’ Let’s not miss that this command is applied to masters as well, as evidenced by that phrase ‘in the same way’ in v9. In other words, he tells both slaves and their masters that they should relate to their master/slave as if they were Jesus.
Just take a moment to let that sink in. Slaves were considered to be property in that culture – and Paul is here telling masters to serve them wholeheartedly as if they were serving Jesus! So, they are to be gentle with them, and treat them well (v9). They too have a divine Master – how would they wish to be treated by Him?
We may be less surprised to hear the teaching the other round – but it is just as valuable. Slaves (and, by extension, ‘workers’ in today’s language) were to be sincere in their obedience (v5) and consistent in their work (v6) – not to win favour, but to be Christlike in their integrity. The Lord rewards all good done on the same basis, whatever our station in life (v8).
It’s a powerful reminder of some vital principles: first, that our status in society is not the same as our status before God. We are all equally valuable as God’s children: ‘as children of God, we have a new dignity,’ to use the language of the modern baptism service. Second, we are to treat all our work as a high calling. Jesus sees, and knows, that it is done for him, and blesses it accordingly. Brother Lawrence famously practised the presence of God peeling the potatoes in the monastery kitchen. He understood that every task done for the glory of God was something holy: a sacrament, if you will. Our work, whatever it is, matters to God. You may or may not be paid for it – but today, pray that you might serve wholeheartedly in all your tasks, that the Lord would bless all the good that you do. Amen.
Wednesday 26th February – Ephesians 6:1-4 ‘Family values’
When I was a youth worker many years ago, my work mentor (who had three grown-up children) had a sign on her fridge: ‘Take revenge – live long enough to be a problem to your children!’ It often used to make me chuckle, but it captured something of the journey of parent/child interactions. Parents have to give up a lot for their children in their formative years (at least, they should) – but as we all get older, the pendulum swings.
In today’s passage Paul sets out some principles for healthy parent/child relationships – and, as we observed yesterday, he again subverts something of the traditional understanding; more on that in a moment. But the key concept here is ‘honouring’. As he rightly reminds us, this is at the heart of the Fifth Commandment: ‘Honour your father and mother.’ And honouring them has positive consequences: ‘…that it may go well with you and that you may enjoy long life on the earth.’
So, this command is for our good, and not just our parents: it has a direct link to our flourishing in life. But it begs the question: what if our parents are not good, or do bad things? Here’s where it’s helpful to draw a line between ‘obeying’ and ‘honouring’. In our early years, we have little choice but to obey. As we grow up, and especially as adults, we can honour our parents even when we no longer need to obey them; and it is even possible to ‘honour’ in those instances where they do not deserve it. The Lord knows our heart in these matters…
I sense Paul understands this nuance, not least because of the instruction he goes on to give to parents – in particular to fathers, who may need to hear this message more directly: ‘Do not exasperate your children.’ Parental authority is about nurturing; a child who grows up in fear, or with the sense that nothing they ever do is good enough, has not been parented according to biblical principles. Break the habit, not the spirit, was some particularly good advice we were given!
As Rev. John Stott comments: ‘Parents can easily misuse their authority either by making irritating or unreasonable demands which make no allowance for the inexperience and immaturity of children, or by harshness and cruelty at one extreme or by favouritism and over-indulgence at the other, or by humiliating and suppressing them, or by those two vindictive weapons sarcasm and ridicule… There is a place for discipline… but it must never be arbitrary… or unkind.’
It comes back to what we observed yesterday: this is a radical reimagining of the role of authority – to serve and to bless, not to enforce or to lord it. Just, indeed, as Jesus himself taught and modelled.
There is no higher calling than to raise new life in this world; and the stakes have rarely been higher. Today, lets pray for parents, especially those who are followers of Jesus, that we might love and nurture in a Christlike way. And may God grant all of us wisdom and grace to honour our parents – that it, too, may go well with us on the earth. Amen.
Previous series
Head over to our Archive page to find previous series in the Psalms, the gospels of Mark, Luke and John, the Holy Spirit, Acts, 2 Corinthians, Philippians, Colossians, Hebrews, Isaiah, Daniel, Esther, Joshua, Deuteronomy, seasonal series for Advent, Easter, Remembrance, and more besides!