New Year Devotions

Carrying Lightly

We’ve reflected before on Jesus’ words in Matthew 6:34, where He advises His followers:
“Give your entire attention to what God is doing right now, and don’t get worked up about what may or may not happen tomorrow. God will help you deal with whatever hard things come up when the time comes.” (The Message)

It’s a powerful invitation to live in the present.
But today’s theme, “carrying lightly,” adds another dimension to the life of a disciple.

So often we take on burdens God never asked us to carry—feeling responsible for the choices, feelings, or outcomes belonging to others. Sometimes we even confuse our role in the partnership: we obey, but God sustains. Obedience is not meant to be a back-breaking heaviness but an eternal companionship, where God shoulders the greater weight and we rest in His strength to carry the part He assigns to us.

A youth leader once took a group on a hill walk. Before setting off, he gave each young person a rucksack. Some bags were light; others were deliberately heavy.

Halfway up the hill one exhausted teenager asked, “Why is mine so much heavier than everyone else’s?”

The leader gently replied, “Because you keep putting things into your bag that were never meant for you.”

He opened the rucksack and began taking out items labelled Responsibility for Others’ Choices, Worry About the Future, Trying to Please Everyone, Fixing What Only God Can Fix.

Finally, he swapped her bag for a lighter one containing only Trust, Obedience, and Grace.

“Carry this instead,” he said. “This is all Jesus asks of you.”

We often walk through life with the wrong bag. Jesus invites us to swap our heavy burdens for His easy yoke—and to carry lightly what He entrusts to us.

Dear Lord,
Thank You that You are more than capable of supplying all we need.
Forgive us for adding extra weight to our load
and for trying to muscle through life in our own strength.

We desperately need You.
Apart from You, we cannot persevere.
You are our daily sustenance—
You are enough for our not-enough.

Thank You that nothing is too hard for You.
Give us courage to hope in You and to follow Your lead,
standing confidently in Your power to rule and reign over all.

Thank You for lifting the burden of our sin and shame on the cross,
and for the lightness You bring to our souls.

Amen.
Practice: Focus only on today’s tasks.

New Year Devotions

Receiving Grace

Most of us have heard the old saying, “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.” The expression comes from the practice of checking a horse’s teeth to judge its age and value. To examine the mouth of a horse that has been freely given is to imply suspicion, doubt, or ingratitude—as though the gift were a transaction rather than an expression of generosity.

The phrase can be traced back as far as the 4th century AD, when St Jerome used the Latin equivalent. It reminds us that a true gift is something to be received with openness rather than inspection.

But what about the gift of grace?

In the Letter to the Ephesians we hear these words of astonishing reassurance:

“For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God.”
(Ephesians 2:8)

Grace is not something we earn, bargain for, or qualify to receive. It is sheer gift—God’s generosity poured out in Jesus Christ, freely and lovingly offered.

Writer Frederick Buechner describes it like this:

“The grace of God means something like this: Here is your life. You might never have been, but you are because the party wouldn’t have been complete without you… I love you. There’s only one catch. Like any other gift, the gift of grace can be yours only if you’ll reach out and take it. Maybe being able to reach out and take it is a gift too.”

Grace is not only God’s gift; even the ability to receive it is grace as well. We do not inspect it, measure it, or qualify it. We simply open our hands, and God fills them.

A man once received a letter in the post marked “A Gift for You.”
He put it on the mantelpiece, meaning to open it later.
Days passed, then weeks.
The envelope gathered dust.

When he finally opened it, he discovered a cheque from a friend who knew he was struggling.
The gift had been his the whole time—but it did nothing for him until he opened it.

Grace is like that.
God has already given it.
It’s freely offered, fully paid for, completely undeserved.
But it only changes us when we stop hesitating, stop doubting, and simply receive it.

Prayer

Gracious God,
You offer us gifts we could never earn
and blessings we do not deserve.
Teach us to receive your grace
with open hands and grateful hearts.

When we are tempted to measure,
to question, or to hold back,
remind us that your love is freely given.

Help us to live as people of grace—
generous, trusting, and joyful—
so that others may glimpse your kindness through us.

In the name of Christ,
the greatest gift of all.
Amen.

Practice: Pray: “Help me receive your grace today.”

New Year Devotions

Choosing Joy

Philippians 4:4 (Living Bible)
“Always be full of joy in the Lord; I say it again, rejoice! Let everyone see that you are unselfish and considerate in all you do.”

I remember singing as a teenager the simple but unforgettable song:
“I’ve got the joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart.”
Each verse grew more enthusiastic—
“I’ve got the peace that passes understanding…”
And even, “I’ve got the you-know-what, I can’t explain it…”
It was exuberant, innocent, and full of life.

G. K. Chesterton beautifully captured this divine design when he wrote,
“God made us for joy. God is joy, and the joy of living reflects the original joy that God felt in creating us.”

But as adults, we discover something sobering: the human spirit has only so much room. When our inner life fills with sorrow, sadness, anxiety, or discouragement, joy gets crowded out. Paul’s call to rejoice in the Lord is not a command to pretend everything is fine. It’s an invitation to anchor ourselves in a joy that does not depend on our circumstances—
a joy deep enough to steady us, sustain us, and even surprise us.

For Paul, this joy was not surface cheerfulness or forced optimism. It was a deep, settled gladness in Jesus—a joy so rooted in Christ that it becomes the very bedrock of who we are. A joy that bubbles up from the heart, even when life feels heavy. A joy that is chosen, not faked.

Imagine carrying a backpack filled with heavy stones—each stone representing sorrow, disappointment, worry, or regret. With every step, the weight pushes down, making it difficult to move, breathe, or look up.

Now picture someone gently opening the backpack and lifting out those stones one by one. As each is removed, you suddenly feel lighter. Your posture straightens. Your steps become easier. Space is created where heaviness once lived.

Joy works the same way.
It isn’t the denial of our stones—it’s the clearing of space when God lifts them from our souls. Joy comes not by pretending we aren’t burdened, but by allowing the Lord to make room for something deeper, steadier, and more life-giving.

Joy is not the absence of sorrow, nor the refusal to acknowledge pain. It is the decision—sometimes daily, sometimes moment by moment—to root ourselves in the goodness of God. True joy is chosen, not manufactured. It grows when we bring our honest hearts to Jesus and allow Him to replace despair with hope, heaviness with grace, and fear with His abiding presence.
Joy doesn’t deny reality; it redefines it in the light of Christ.

Lord Jesus, teach me to choose joy—not as a mask, but as a deep confidence in Your love. Clear the clutter from my heart so there is room for the joy You long to give. Lift the heaviness that weighs me down and fill me with the peace that passes understanding. Let my life reflect the quiet, steady joy that comes from knowing You. Shape my heart so that joy becomes the rhythm of my days and the testimony of my life. Amen.

Practice: Do one small thing that lifts your spirit.

New Year Devotions

Letting go of control—even in small ways—can be incredibly difficult. It’s a lesson Peter had to learn gradually. His journey from impulsive self-reliance to deep trust was slow and uneven, yet in time he could write with full conviction:

“Let him have all your worries and cares, for he is always thinking about you and watching everything that concerns you.” — 1 Peter 5:7

Do you find yourself trying to take control when you should instead be trusting God? It can slip into our lives so subtly.

For example, caring too much about what others think of us can be a form of control. As much as we might want to manage people’s opinions, it’s something we simply cannot control—yet we often try.

Another way control shows up is when we begin to depend more on our own abilities than on God. He has graciously given us talents, skills, and spiritual gifts to serve Him and others. But we can start trusting those gifts rather than the Giver. And then, without meaning to, we begin expecting results that only God can bring.

Perhaps this is why Peter came to treasure the wisdom of Proverbs 3:5–6:

“Trust in the LORD with all your heart, and do not rely on your own understanding;
in all your ways know him, and he will make your paths straight.”

Trust requires surrender. And surrender requires believing that God is good, attentive, and actively caring for the details of our lives.

Picture a child learning to ride a bicycle. At first, the parent runs alongside, steadying the bike with a firm grip on the seat. The child insists, “Don’t let go!” even as they long for the thrill of riding freely. Eventually, the parent loosens their hold. The child wobbles… then steadies… then finds their balance.

The remarkable thing is this: even when the parent releases the seat, they never stop watching. Their eyes remain fixed, ready to run forward if needed.

This is how God deals with us.
He invites us to trust, to loosen our grip, and to release control. But even when He asks us to pedal in faith, His attention never leaves us. He watches everything that concerns us.

Control promises safety, but it delivers anxiety. Trust, on the other hand, feels risky at first—but it leads to freedom, peace, and a deeper experience of God’s faithfulness.
When we give God our worries and release our need to manage every outcome, we step into the life Jesus invites us to: a life carried not by our effort, but by His care.

Heavenly Father, please help me trust You more than I want to control anything or anyone in my world. Thank You that You are always eager to help me move from where I am to where You want me to be. Teach me to release my worries, surrender my need to manage outcomes, and rest in Your faithful care. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Practice: Offload one worry to God today.

New Year Devotions

We now move onto a topic that I have Called, “Small Steps of the Heart”

So today we start with the notion that “Kindness Begins Inside”, Jesus put such compassion in this way, Matthew 22:39 “Love your neighbour as yourself.” Such a statement assumes a healthy, God-honouring love for oneself—treating yourself with the same dignity, gentleness, and care you offer to others.

We often hear the call to be kind, patient, and compassionate toward others, yet Jesus’ command includes a deeper layer we sometimes overlook: “Love your neighbour as yourself.”

With those words, Jesus assumes something important—that a healthy, God-honouring love for oneself is not selfishness, but the starting point for genuine kindness. If we speak gently to others but harshly to ourselves… if we encourage others but condemn ourselves… if we care for others’ needs but ignore our own… then we have only understood half of Jesus’ command.

Kindness begins inside.
It begins with recognising that you are God’s beloved creation—worthy of dignity, patience, rest, and compassion. When we treat ourselves with the same grace God extends to us, our kindness toward others flows more freely and authentically. Self-compassion is not indulgence; it is alignment with the heart of Jesus, who invites the weary, wounded, and burdened to come and find rest.

Imagine standing before a cracked mirror. At a distance, it looks intact, but the closer you step, the more you notice the fractures—lines running in every direction. Now picture trying to clean someone else’s face using that mirror. No matter how hard you try, the reflection you offer back to them is distorted.

But when the mirror is gently restored—when its surface is healed—the image it reflects becomes clear.

Our inner life works the same way.
When we speak to ourselves with criticism, impatience, or shame, the “inner mirror” we use to see others becomes clouded. But when kindness begins within us—when our inner dialogue reflects God’s compassion—our ability to love others becomes clearer, warmer, and truer.

Prayer

Lord Jesus, teach us to receive Your compassion so we may extend it to ourselves. Heal the harshness in our inner thoughts and replace it with Your gentle truth. Help us to honour the life You’ve given us by treating ourselves with grace, dignity, and patience. And as kindness begins within our own hearts, let it overflow naturally to those around us. Shape us into reflections of Your love—both inwardly and outwardly. Amen.

Practice: Speak to yourself like a friend.

New Year Devotions

A Quiet Heart

I’ve always loved the way Eugene Peterson paraphrases Matthew 11:28–30. It reads almost like a holiday advert—or perhaps more accurately, a holy day invitation:

“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion?
Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life.
I’ll show you how to take a real rest.
Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it.
Learn the unforced rhythms of grace.
I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you.
Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.”

Last summer, we explored the beauty of Sabbath rest, but Jesus’ invitation is one we constantly need to hear again. Life presses against us from every angle—demands, expectations, responsibilities. Yet it is often the inner voice, with its relentless insistence to keep going, keep achieving, keep performing, that most deeply disturbs our equilibrium.

Chronic stress doesn’t just tire us emotionally; it affects us physically and spiritually as well. I found myself last year facing ultra-low energy, the result of stress-heightened cortisol levels and rising blood pressure. All of this cluttered my mind, clouded my ability to think calmly, and even muffled the quiet voice of the Holy Spirit.

Jesus invites us into another way. He doesn’t promise a problem-free life, but He offers a different posture—a gentler, lighter way of walking through our burdens. When we hand Him the weight we carry, He aligns us with rest, healing, and the healthiest possible outcomes. He teaches us, slowly and kindly, the “unforced rhythms of grace.”

Illustration

Imagine a small sailboat caught in a sudden burst of wind. The sailor, panicked, pulls tightly on the ropes, fighting the gusts with every muscle tensed. The boat jerks and tilts; the harder the sailor pulls, the more unstable the boat becomes.

Then a voice from a nearby boat calls out, “Loosen the sail!”

Reluctantly, the sailor lets the rope slip through their fingers. The sail adjusts, the boat steadies, and suddenly the wind that once felt threatening becomes the very force that carries the boat forward.

This is what rest in Jesus looks like: not fighting the storms in our own strength, but loosening our grip and allowing His grace to carry us.

Prayer

Gentle Lord, quiet our hearts today. In the rush of responsibilities and the noise of our inner pressures, teach us the unforced rhythms of Your grace. Lift the heavy burdens we cling to and help us loosen our grip, trusting that You hold us securely. Restore our energy, renew our minds, and calm our spirits so we may walk freely and lightly with You. Give us a quiet Sunday heart—at peace, at rest, and fully alive in Your presence. Amen.

Practice: Light a candle and pray simply: “I am yours.”

New Year Devotions

Rest as Trust

Psalm 127:2 — “It’s useless to rise early and go to bed late, and work your worried fingers to the bone. Don’t you know he enjoys giving rest to those he loves?”

Since retiring from pastoral ministry last September, I’ve had to confront a surprising truth: rest does not come naturally to me. I’ve spent years encouraging others to slow down, breathe, and trust God—yet now I find myself needing to practice the same counsel. I’ve had to deliberately give myself permission to relax, to release the constant internal pressure to be productive, and to rediscover the spiritual space God intends for my soul.

Psalm 127 reminds us that frantic striving is not the hallmark of a faithful life. Rising early, staying up late, and wearing our “worried fingers to the bone” may look like dedication, but Scripture gently exposes the truth: restlessness is often a form of mistrust. God delights in giving rest—not as a reward for efficiency, but as a gift to His beloved.

Jesus echoed this invitation to trust when He taught His disciples to pray. In Eugene Peterson’s paraphrase of the Lord’s Prayer, we hear: “Keep us safe from ourselves and the Devil.” There is wisdom in that phrasing. Sometimes the greatest threat to our peace is not external opposition, but our own inner drivenness—the voice that insists we must keep going, keep working, keep proving ourselves.

Sacred rest is not laziness. It is a declaration of trust in the God who holds all things together, even when we are still.

Imagine a child learning to swim. At first, they splash frantically, arms and legs flailing in every direction. Their effort looks impressive, but it doesn’t keep them afloat for long. Then the instructor gently says, “Stop. Let the water hold you.”The moment the child stops struggling and spreads out their limbs, something surprising happens: the water lifts them. Their rest becomes the very thing that keeps them afloat.

So it is with us. Our frantic efforts exhaust us, but when we rest—truly rest—we discover that God has been holding us all along.

Prayer

Loving Father, You know how easily we slip into anxious striving. Teach us to rest as an act of trust. Remind us that we are Your beloved, not Your employees. Help us to release the pressures we place on ourselves and to enter the stillness You freely give. Keep us safe from the voice within that drives us beyond what You desire. May Your peace guard our hearts, and may Your rest restore our souls. Amen.

Practice: Do one restful thing without guilt.