Daily Devotions

Surely verse 10 of Psalm 46 is one of the most well-known lines in the entire Hebrew hymnbook:

“Be still, and know that I am God! I am exalted among the nations, I am exalted in the earth.”

And yet, for many of us, stillness feels elusive. We are, in truth, fidgeting Christians—always busy, always striving, rarely settled. Stillness is something we long for, something that sounds profoundly inviting, but it's often interrupted by the distractions, demands, and diversions of modern life.

Mark Buchanan, in his book The Rest of God: Restoring Your Soul by Restoring Sabbath, makes a striking observation. He writes that one of the greatest obstacles to true Sabbath rest is leisure. It seems counterintuitive, but he explains:

“One of the largest obstacles to true Sabbath-keeping is leisure… Leisure is what Sabbath becomes when we no longer know how to sanctify time. Leisure is Sabbath bereft of the sacred. It is a vacation—literally, a vacating, an evacuation... Leisure has become despotic in our age, enslaving us and exhausting us, demanding from us more than it gives.”

Buchanan’s point is that leisure, which should renew us, often ends up robbing us of the deep inner stillness our souls truly need. We confuse entertainment with restoration.

Those who watch the BBC’s Antiques Roadshow may be familiar with the segment “Basic, Better, Best.” Three similar objects are shown, and the challenge is to decide which holds the most value. It’s a fun game, but it also echoes a deeper truth: we don’t always recognise what is truly valuable. Stillness might seem basic—almost boring—but in God's kingdom, it’s the best.

So, amid the chaos, noise, and clamour of life, the Psalmist doesn’t simply suggest but pleads with us: Be still... and know. Not just to be quiet, but to cease striving. The Hebrew word rapa, translated as “be still,” carries the sense of relaxing, letting go, releasing our grip. It's not about passivity but trust—a surrender of our will to the will of God.

True stillness isn’t inactivity; it’s a posture of the soul that says: God is in control, and I don’t have to be.

Lord, may, I weave a silence on to my lips

I weave a silence onto my mind

I weave a silence within my heart

I close my ears to distractions

I close my eyes to attractions

I close my heart to temptations

Calm me, O Lord, as you stilled the storm

Still me, O Lord, keep me from harm

Let all tumult within me cease

Enfold me Lord in your peace. Amen

Daily Devotions

Psalm 37:7:

Be still before the Holy One; wait quietly, with trust. Don’t let yourself be unsettled by those who prosper through injustice or get ahead through schemes that go unchallenged.

I’m sure we’ve all heard that tongue-in-cheek prayer: “Lord, give me patience—but hurry up!” It captures so well the tension we feel between our desire for calm trust and our impulse for instant solutions.

Mark Buchanan, in his book The Rest of God: Restoring Your Soul by Restoring Sabbath, reminds us that true Sabbath rest is inseparable from stillness. He writes, “The root idea of Sabbath is simple as rain falling, basic as breathing. It’s that all living things—and many nonliving things too—thrive only by an ample measure of stillness.”

Stillness, in this sense, is not inactivity or apathy—it is a posture of trust. It’s the patient refusal to be consumed by envy or anxiety when others appear to get ahead by questionable means. Psalm 37:7 calls us not to fret over those who amass wealth or succeed through manipulation, but to rest in the assurance that God sees, knows, and will act in His time.

It’s easy to be stirred up when the world feels unfair. We may ask, “Why do the dishonest prosper?” But this verse reminds us: outward success does not equal divine favour. Our role is not to chase after fairness but to remain faithful, grounded in stillness and trust.

There’s a story told of a man who lost a valuable watch while working in an icehouse. He and his coworkers raked through sawdust in vain. But a young boy who’d overheard the story slipped in during the lunch break. When he emerged, he had the watch in hand.

“How did you find it?” the men asked.

“I closed the door,” the boy said, “lay down in the sawdust, and kept very still. Soon I heard it ticking.”

Sometimes, we do not hear the voice of God—not because He isn’t speaking, but because we are too restless, too noisy, too impatient to listen. Stillness is not just the absence of noise; it is the intentional quiet of the heart that listens for the tick of the divine.

So be still. Wait patiently. Let go of fretting. Trust that the God who sees all is never late, and never silent.

Lord, help me to be still before you and wait patiently for you. I know that you have a plan for my life, and I trust in your timing. When I see others prosper in ways that seem unfair or wicked, help me not to fret or become angry. Instead, help me to rest in your love and trust in your wisdom. I choose to choose to commit my way to you and trust that you will bring about a righteous reward in your own time. Amen."

Daily Devotions

Psalm 34:8 (The Inclusive Bible)
“Taste and see how good YHWH is! Happiness comes to those who take refuge in YHWH.”

This verse is a gentle but powerful invitation: come close, draw near, and experience the goodness of God for yourself. “Taste and see” calls us to more than belief—it calls us to encounter. It’s not about observing from a distance or merely knowing about God; it’s about stepping into a relationship where His goodness can be personally known and deeply trusted.

Mark Buchanan, in The Rest of God: Restoring Your Soul by Restoring Sabbath, makes a striking observation about the human tendency to flee from hardship:

“But what we find is that flight becomes captivity: once we begin to flee the things that threaten and burden us, there is no end to fleeing.”

In our pursuit of relief from anxiety, pain, and uncertainty, we often look for ways to escape. But escape is rarely refuge. Instead of leading us to peace, it often traps us in a cycle of restlessness.

The Hebrew word most commonly translated as “refuge” is māḥăsê—meaning shelter, protection, a safe hiding place in the midst of storm or danger. Other Hebrew words for refuge suggest a “high place,” a secure position, or even a person in whom one can confidently confide.

In modern life, we might associate such refuge with the sanctuary of counselling or therapy—a place where hearts can be unburdened, and fears named aloud. But even in the best human support, true refuge is more than emotional relief; it is spiritual rest.

Contemporary counselling speaks of the anxiety cycle: worry leads to hypervigilance, bodily tension, narrowed focus, and the desire to escape. Avoidance brings short-term relief but long-term captivity—further worry, reduced resilience, and deepened fear. The cycle tightens its grip.

Psalm 34:8 offers a different way. “Taste and see.” Step into the presence of the One who is not overwhelmed by your fears. Trust in the One who offers more than temporary comfort—He offers shelter. To “take refuge” in God is to entrust yourself to His care, to bring your whole self—anxieties, doubts, and all—and rest in His faithfulness.

This is not a passive rest. It is a relationship lived out through prayer, Scripture, worship, and obedience—a life shaped around the presence of God. It means moving from head knowledge to heart experience, from theory to testimony.

God’s goodness is not an abstract doctrine. It is food for the soul.
Taste it.
See it.
Trust it.
And find, in Him, a refuge that doesn’t lead to more fleeing—but to freedom.

Help me, dear Father, to know you better. Open my heart, dear Lord, so that I will more fully entrust myself to your care. Open my eyes to see just how gracious you are — not to impress me, but to share in your grace. Thank you for your goodness. In Jesus' name. Amen.

Daily Devotions

Psalm 23:1–3 (The Inclusive Bible)
“Lord, you are my shepherd—I want nothing more. You let me lie down in green meadows; you lead me beside restful waters: you refresh my soul. You guide me to lush pastures for the sake of your Name.”

In this beloved Psalm, we are drawn into a vision of peace and provision. The imagery is deeply reassuring: green meadows, still waters, a soul refreshed. It is a picture not only of physical rest, but of deep spiritual calm—a life centred on God's presence, not on our striving.

Mark Buchanan, in The Rest of God: Restoring Your Soul by Restoring Sabbath, shares a poignant moment from his own journey:

“I was in no hurry. I prayed. I sang. I listened. I watched. In all that time, I never earned a cent. I didn't write a word. I didn't build a thing. The world is no richer for my passing through it. But I'm far richer for not missing it.”

These words reflect something our culture often forgets: that rest is not wasted time, and presence is not idleness. To live mindfully in God’s presence is to be fully alive to His goodness in the here and now.

We often hear the term mindfulness in today’s world—the practice of being fully present in the moment, aware of our thoughts, sensations, and emotions without judgment. In a Christian context, this becomes something even deeper: godly mindfulness.

Godly mindfulness is a sacred attentiveness—a prayerful awareness of God’s presence in each moment. It invites us to slow down, to notice, to listen. It means recognising the fingerprints of God not only in moments of awe but also in the ordinary: in the silence, in the breath, in the kindness of a friend, in the quiet beauty of a day unfolding.

This spiritual attentiveness is not an escape from life but a way of entering it more fully—with hearts tuned to God's voice, and lives shaped by gratitude, compassion, and humility.

When the psalmist speaks of lying down in green pastures and being led beside still waters, he’s describing more than rest—he’s describing a posture of trustful presence. It's a soul that knows it is being shepherded. It's the deep peace of knowing that we are not alone.

What better place to practice godly mindfulness than beside those still waters of grace, lying down in the green meadows of God’s care? Here, in His presence, we are restored—not because we’ve accomplished anything, but simply because we’ve paused long enough to notice that He is with 

Shepherd of our lives, Guide us to the still waters. Lead us on the right paths. Walk beside us when we go through our darkest valleys. Help us to know Your Comforting Presence is always with us. We know that in You there is nothing to be afraid of, so help us to stand for love, peace and justice. We know that You prepare the table before us, that You care for us, that We are Your sheep forever. Help us in this world to do justice, love kindness, and to walk humbly with You; and wherever we may go, may we follow Your path. In the name of Christ, the Good Shepherd, we pray. Amen.

Daily Devotions

Psalm 4:8
“I will both lie down and sleep in peace; for you alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety.”

Building on the previous verse in Psalm 3, this verse offers a deepened and more intimate view of rest. David, despite facing real and present danger—his enemies rising against him (Psalm 3:1), his own son Absalom rebelling (2 Samuel 15:13–14)—finds the remarkable ability to lie down and sleep peacefully. This is not denial or escapism. It is the fruit of deep trust in a faithful God.

Rather than tossing and turning through the night, David casts his burdens onto the shoulders of the Lord. He knows who truly holds his life, and he chooses to rest—not because the storm has passed, but because God is present in the midst of it.

The rest David describes is not just physical sleep. It’s a spiritual freedom—the kind that comes when we surrender control and place our trust fully in God. As Mark Buchanan writes in The Rest of God: Restoring Your Soul by Restoring Sabbath:

“The opposite of a slave is not a free man. It’s a worshiper. The one who is most free is the one who turns the work of his hands into sacrament, into offering. All he makes and all he does are gifts from God, through God, and to God.”

Rest, then, is not simply stepping away from work—it is reorienting the soul. It’s the freedom of the worshiper who offers every moment, task, and breath to God.

This theme echoes throughout Scripture.
In 1 Peter 5:7, we are told:

“Cast all your anxieties on Him, because He cares for you.”

And in Philippians 4:6–7, Paul encourages us:

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”

Peace that surpasses understanding—this is what David experienced. Not peace because everything was perfect, but peace because God was near, attentive, and sovereign.

Psalm 4:8 reminds us that sleep itself is a gift—a daily invitation to trust, to surrender, and to be renewed. In modelling rest from the very beginning of creation, God teaches us that stopping is not weakness, but wisdom. It is holy. It is necessary. When we rest, we remember that we are not God—and we don’t need to be.

Rest renews the mind, refreshes the body, and restores the soul.
It is not the end of work, but the worshipful pause that allows us to continue.

Heavenly Father, I have scarce scratched the surface of Your grace and goodness toward me. My love is poor and weak, and my thoughts and prayers are too often motivated from selfish desires and a lack of understanding of Who You are and what You have done for me. Increase my desire and love for You, and help me, like David, to become a "man after God's own heart" desiring You above all things. In Jesus' name I pray, Amen

Daily Devotions

Psalm 3:5 I lie down and sleep; I wake again, for the Lord sustains me.

The NHS website tells us that the most common causes of insomnia and sleeplessness are anxiety that often brings with it its own stress and all to often depression. Are you one who lists, either physically or mentally all the concerns that surround your life as you try to nod off to sleep? 

For several years a woman had been having trouble getting to sleep at night because she feared burglars. One night her husband heard a noise in the house, so he went downstairs to investigate. When he got there, he did find a burglar. "Good evening," said the man of the house. "I am pleased to see you. Come upstairs and meet my wife. She has been waiting 10 years to meet you." 

In today's extract from ‘The Rest of God: Restoring Your Soul by Restoring Sabbath’, Mark Buchanan writes. “Sabbath is that one day. It is a reprieve from what you ought to do, even though the list of oughts is infinitely long and never done. Oughts are tyrants, noisy and surly, chronically dissatisfied. Sabbath is the day you trade places with them: they go in the salt mine, and you go out dancing. It’s the one day when the only thing you must do is to not do the things you must. You are given permission— issued a command, to be blunt—to turn your back on all those oughts. You get to wilfully ignore the many niggling things your existence genuinely depends on—and is often hobbled beneath—so that you can turn to whatever you’ve put off and pushed away for lack of time, lack of room, lack of breath. You get to shuck the have-tos and lay hold of the get-tos.” 

In a word, it is our anticipated worries that work against our ability to find rest. Why? Because Worry is fear's extravagance. It extracts interest on trouble before it comes due. It constantly drains the energy God gives us to face daily problems and to fulfil our many responsibilities. It is therefore a sinful waste. A woman who had lived long enough to have learned some important truths about life remarked, "I've had a lot of trouble -- most of which never happened!" She had worried about many things that had never occurred, and had come to see the total futility of her anxieties.

Lord, When my mind starts going down the road of worry, guide me back to your path of peace. Remind me that you are not bound by time. You have been in my past, you are in my present, and you’re already in my future. Whatever I have to walk through, you’re already there. You know it. You are sovereign over it. I have nothing to worry about.

Help me to cast all my cares on you, because I know that you care about me. When my finances are tight, you provide my daily bread. When my heart is heavy, you are my consolation. When my health is precarious, you are the strength of my heart and my portion forever. Amen

Daily Devotions

 Job 11:18

“You will be secure, because there is hope; you will look about you and lie down in safety.”

This verse offers a powerful assurance: true hope in God brings confidence and peace. It’s not the shallow kind of hope that is merely wishful thinking, but a deep, abiding trust grounded in the unchanging character of God. The context of the verse is Zophar’s counsel to Job—though imperfect, it still contains a profound truth. He urges Job to turn back to God, implying that genuine repentance and faith open the way to divine security and rest.

Mark Buchanan captures this beautifully in his book The Rest of God: Restoring Your Soul by Restoring Sabbath:

“Without rest, we miss the rest of God: the rest he invites us to enter more fully so that we might know him more deeply. ‘Be still, and know that I am God.’ Some knowing is never pursued, only received. And for that, you need to be still.”

Job, in the depths of suffering, discovers that the presence of God is not always found in striving or searching, but in stillness and surrender.

A beautiful story from the life of missionary John Paton further illustrates this trust. While translating the Bible for a South Seas island tribe, Paton discovered they had no word for “faith” or “trust.” One day, a weary villager entered his hut, collapsed into a chair, and said, “It is good to rest my whole weight on this chair.” In that moment, Paton saw the perfect metaphor:

Faith is resting your whole weight on God.

It is that kind of faith—total surrender, total trust—that Job was being drawn toward. And it is that same faith to which we are invited today.

A Prayer:
Abba, Father,
Thank you for your tender mercy and unfailing love.
Forgive me for the times I run ahead of you—striving, pushing, wandering from your path.
Teach me to rest in you.
Slow my soul to stillness, that I may hear your gentle voice.
My day belongs to you.
Lead me in your rhythm—the sacred dance of grace.
Let my steps follow your peaceful way,
your narrow road of joy, light, and love,
leading to the forever of ever with you.
Thank you. I am humbled by your love.
In Jesus’ name, Amen.