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Reverend Paul Collings BTh (Hons) - - - - paul.collings@methodist.org.uk - - - - 01392 206229 - - - - 07941 880768

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We are a community of faith seeking to discover the face of Jesus Christ in our Church, in our Community and in our Commitment.

Monday, 21 July 2025

Daily Devotions


Ecclesiastes 4:6 offers a timeless truth:
“Better is a handful with quiet than two handfuls with toil, and a chasing after wind.”

This verse speaks deeply into our modern lives. It reminds us that contentment—found in simplicity and peace—is far more valuable than the relentless pursuit of more. The image of one handful with quiet contrasts powerfully with two handfuls gained through striving and restlessness. In essence, the Teacher of Ecclesiastes warns us that chasing after wealth, success, or even approval without inner peace is like chasing the wind: exhausting and ultimately empty.

Adam Mabry, in The Art of Rest: Faith to Hit Pause in a World That Never Stops, writes with clarity about the spiritual cost of our constant motion:

“Ultimately, rest is an act of resistance against the siren calls of our idols to work for them. By stopping, we take up arms against the great Western gods of achievement, money, and self-determination.”

Stillness, then, becomes a quiet protest—a holy rebellion—against the noise and pressures of modern life. We are not what we produce. We are not defined by what we own or how much we achieve. The spiritual discipline of rest helps us to remember who we truly are—beloved children of God, already enough.

Noise, both literal and metaphorical, has a profound effect on us. One psychological experiment demonstrated that in quiet environments, people were more likely to show compassion. When loud noise—like a lawnmower—was introduced, acts of kindness dropped dramatically. Another study in Los Angeles showed that children living near airports struggled to complete tasks under the roar of jet engines, while those in quieter neighbourhoods performed better. Even in prison studies, it has been shown that noise creates more unrest than poor food or other conditions.

So when Ecclesiastes speaks of “toil,” it isn’t just about hard work—it’s about inner noise. The constant hum of striving, comparing, desiring more. That’s what wears us down and steals our peace.

A prayer of stillness and surrender:
Lord, I don’t know when I started believing the lie that more is better. More things consume my time. More activities pull me away from those I love—and from you. More desires fill me with longing instead of gratitude. Even when I get what I thought I wanted, it often leaves me feeling empty.
Today, Lord, I choose to be thankful with my one handful. It is enough.
Fill my heart with gratitude and remind me again of the futility of chasing after the wind.
Amen.


Saturday, 19 July 2025

Daily Devotions


Proverbs 3:21–24 offers us a gentle but firm invitation:

“My child, do not let these escape from your sight: keep sound wisdom and prudence, and they will be life for your soul and a garland for your neck. Then you will walk securely on your way, and your foot will not stumble. If you sit down, you will not be afraid; when you lie down, your sleep will be sweet.”

These verses speak of a life shaped by God’s wisdom—steady, secure, and at peace. Such a life is not built in haste, but through steady attentiveness to God's truth. It calls to mind the words of George Herbert’s hymn:

Seven whole days, not one in seven, I will praise Thee;
In my heart, though not in Heaven, I can raise Thee.
Small it is, in this poor sort to enroll Thee:
E'en eternity’s too short to extol Thee.

This is the fruit of a life lived in the rhythm of grace—where praise flows not from obligation, but from delight.

Adam Mabry, in The Art of Rest: Faith to Hit Pause in a World That Never Stops, frames this beautifully:

“But such deep fellowship with God and others can't be microwaved. It takes time. And when we carve out the time, we're rewarded with the relational fellowship for which we were made. We find ourselves loving to carve out the time to focus on our relationship, rather than having to do so. Duty gives way to delight.”

In our fast-paced and AI-driven world, one way forensic analysts test whether a photograph has been altered is by examining the shadows. If the shadows don't align with the light source, something isn’t right. In life, too, we must learn to watch for the light and its shadows. Where God’s light is shining consistently—on our thoughts, our decisions, our relationships—we find clarity, peace, and the assurance of rest. Where shadows fall strangely, out of step with His wisdom, we know to pause and reconsider.

The wisdom of Proverbs calls us not just to obedience, but to attentiveness: to keep God’s ways always in our line of sight. The result is security in our steps, courage in our stillness, and sweetness in our rest.

A Prayer:

Loving Father,
It is my desire to honour You in all my ways, because I love You.
Thank You for leading me with your wisdom and guiding my feet along safe paths.
Help me to acknowledge You not only in crisis but in every corner of my life—
in work and rest, in speaking and silence, in busyness and in stillness.
In all things and at all times, keep my eyes fixed on Jesus,
the light that casts out fear and the rock that holds firm.
To Him be all praise and glory, now and always.
Amen.

Friday, 18 July 2025

Daily Devotions

“But those who listen to me will live in safety and be at ease, without fear of harm.”
— Proverbs 1:33

How do you see the world—glass half empty, or glass half full? I once heard a radio interview with a man who had lost his sight as a teenager. When asked how he viewed life, he simply said, “I’m a three-quarters full kind of guy.” His optimism wasn’t rooted in denial of hardship, but in a deeper hope.

That honest yet hopeful spirit echoes in Adam Mabry’s words from The Art of Rest: Faith to Hit Pause in a World that Never Stops:

“The problems of life are real, not imaginary. Eastern meditation starts with the presupposition that pain in this world is illusory, but the gospel tells us that we don't have to pretend that what hurts does not, or should not. Life does hurt. Yet the gospel doesn't leave us there. Rest with God grows our ability to say, ‘I know God, and I know he will deliver me.’ It enables us to face problems with both honesty and hope.”

We don’t deny pain—but neither do we drown in it. Instead, Proverbs tells us that those who listen to God’s wisdom will dwell securely and live with ease. That doesn’t mean an easy life, but a life grounded in the peace and presence of God, free from the dread of disaster.

F.B. Meyer once told the story of two German climbers ascending the Matterhorn. They hired three guides and began their trek tied together by a single rope. The last man lost his footing, pulling down the man above him—and then another. But the lead guide had driven his spike deeply into the ice. He alone held firm. Because of him, the others regained their footing and survived.

That’s a vivid picture of what it means to be anchored in God’s wisdom. When others falter or fear overtakes us, it's the one who is fastened to the rock of God’s Word who holds firm. Our security doesn’t come from ourselves—it comes from the One who never slips.

St Augustine said it plainly:

“When people choose to withdraw far from a fire, the fire continues to give warmth, but they grow cold. When people choose to withdraw far from light, the light continues to shine, but they are in darkness. So too, when people withdraw from God.”

God remains constant, but we must choose to stay close—close enough to hear, to follow, and to trust.

A Prayer:

Dear Lord,
I come before you today, standing on the promise of Proverbs 1:33:
"Whoever listens to me will live in safety and be at ease, without fear of harm."
I want to be someone who listens—deeply, daily—to your voice.
I choose your wisdom over my worry, your truth over my fear.
Anchor me in your presence.
Give me peace, not by removing life’s storms,
but by being my shelter through them.
Keep me close to the fire of your love and the light of your truth.
Through Christ my rock and redeemer,
Amen.


Thursday, 17 July 2025

Daily Devotions


Psalm 127:2 reminds us of the futility of self-reliance without trust in God’s provision:

“In vain you get up early and stay up late, sweating to make a living, because God loves us and provides for us even while we sleep.” (Psalm 127:2, adapted)

This verse challenges the relentless drive of our self-help culture and productivity mindset. It tells us that excessive toil—rising early, going to bed late, striving constantly—is ultimately in vain if it is divorced from a life of trust in God. There’s a deep restfulness available to those who believe that even while they sleep, God is at work on their behalf.

Adam Mabry, in The Art of Rest: Faith to Hit Pause in a World that Never Stops, speaks with convicting clarity:

“Whatever it is that you're thinking about right now that gets you off the hook of taking Jesus' call to rest seriously, it is probably the thing you actually love and worship more than Jesus. We refuse to rest because, at some deep level, we're convinced that if we stop, the thing for which we're really living won't be fed, pleased, or procured. If you're happier at work than in Christ, rest will never feel good. If you're more of a mother to your children than you are a daughter of the King, stopping may feel like sin.”

This is a heart-level challenge. Many of us may find our identity so entangled in productivity, roles, or performance that stopping—truly resting—feels like failure. But Psalm 127 reminds us that it is not our striving that ultimately sustains us—it is God’s loving care, even in the quiet hours of the night.

Yes, hard work is a gift, and diligence honours God. But when our efforts are fuelled by anxiety or driven by fear of inadequacy, we’ve lost sight of grace. The self-help movement, for all its insights, can unwittingly lure us into a never-ending quest for personal betterment that leaves us spiritually exhausted and emotionally empty.

Psalm 127:2 is a gentle, persistent invitation to trust. To rest. To believe that God is both provider and sustainer. It asks us to stop striving long enough to realise: we are already loved.

A Prayer:

Heavenly Father,
Thank you for the gift of rest and the quiet blessing of sleep.
Thank you for your faithful provision—day by day and even while I sleep.
You have given me good work to do, and I want to serve you well.
But help me remember: without you, I can do nothing.
And through Christ, I can do all things.

Deliver me from the need to control,
from the worries that crowd my mind,
from the temptation to carry burdens alone.
Help me not to chase after fulfilment apart from you.
Teach me to rely not on my strength but on your grace.

From this day forward, may I work from rest, not for rest—
and find my true peace in your presence.
In Jesus’ name,
Amen.

Wednesday, 16 July 2025

Daily Devotions


Psalm 62:1, as translated in The Inclusive Bible, offers a profound invitation to rest:

“In God alone my soul finds rest, for my deliverance comes from God, who alone is my rock, my salvation, my fortress: I will never be shaken.”

This verse reminds us that true rest—deep, sustaining rest—is not found in sleep, entertainment, or escape, but in God alone. He is our source of safety, stability, and salvation.

In The Art of Rest: Faith to Hit Pause in a World That Never Stops, Adam Mabry reflects on this same truth with clarity and wit:

“Our bodies get tired, so we sleep. If I refuse sleep on the basis that I need to train for a marathon, I will fail to run a marathon, because my body needs rest in order to train. So why would we think it should be all that different with our souls? When our souls are tired, why wouldn’t we rest? Jesus seems to have made a habit of this. Are we a bit more spiritually fit than the Lord?”

It's a striking question. Even Jesus, the Son of God, took time to rest—to withdraw, to be quiet, to pray. So why do we so often resist doing the same?

There is, of course, a kind of tiredness that’s healthy—a good weariness. It's the feeling after meaningful work, joyful service, or honest labour. You may be physically tired, but inwardly content.

But then there’s soul-weariness—a draining, hollow tiredness. This is the weariness that saps our joy, dulls our hope, and steals our peace. It's the exhaustion that comes not from activity, but from spiritual depletion. When we’re constantly striving, constantly battling, constantly pouring out without being filled, we end up spiritually burnt out. And in that place, we risk settling for a life far smaller than the one God intends for us.

That’s why Psalm 62 doesn’t just invite us to rest—it commands us to root that rest in God:

“My salvation and my honour depend on God; he is my mighty rock, my refuge.” (Psalm 62:7)

It’s a declaration of dependence and trust: that God alone can hold our weariness, steady our souls, and restore our strength.

A Prayer for Rest and Renewal:

Eternal God,
the refuge and help of all your children,
we praise you for all you have given us,
for all you have done for us,
for all that you are to us.

In our weakness, you are strength;
in our darkness, you are light;
in our sorrow, you are comfort and peace.

We cannot number your blessings,
we cannot declare your love.
But for all your goodness, we bless you.

Teach us to live in your presence,
to love what you love,
and to serve you with joy and faithfulness
in the dailiness of our lives.

Through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Amen.


Tuesday, 15 July 2025

Daily Devotions


The Psalms are filled with the cries of those seeking rest, consolation, and contentment in the midst of distress. Take, for example, Psalm 55:4–8:

“My heart is in anguish within me, the terrors of death have fallen upon me. Fear and trembling come upon me, and horror overwhelms me. And I say, ‘O that I had wings like a dove! I would fly away and be at rest; truly, I would flee far away; I would lodge in the wilderness; I would hurry to find a shelter for myself from the raging wind and tempest.’”

Here we encounter a soul overwhelmed—gripped by fear, anguish, and the desire to escape. The psalmist longs not just for distance from his troubles, but for rest. He imagines the wings of a dove, a symbol of peace, carrying him away to a place of safety, solitude, and stillness. It’s a deeply human prayer—the kind that whispers, “I just need to get away… even if only for a while.”

In our own search for rest, we often turn to the wrong places—busyness masquerading as productivity, distraction disguised as peace. That’s why the words of Adam Mabry in his book The Art of Rest: Faith to Hit Pause in a World That Never Stops are so compelling. He writes:

“We express the glory of God as we experience relationship with God. We won’t declare him if we do not know him. But if we never have any time to enjoy being with him—if we’re never resting with him—then what have we to express to the world? ‘Come meet Jesus! I barely have time to be with him, but trust me, he’s great.’”

This observation resonates with the cry of Psalm 55. The psalmist begins with a plea:

“Listen to my prayer, O God, do not ignore my plea; hear me and answer me. My thoughts trouble me and I am distraught because of what my enemy is saying, because of the threats of the wicked; for they bring down suffering on me and assail me in their anger.” (vv. 1–3)

But even in the storm, the psalm moves toward trust. It offers us this promise:

“Cast your cares on the Lord and he will sustain you; he will never let the righteous be shaken.” (v. 22)

And it closes with this quiet affirmation of faith:

“But as for me, I trust in you.” (v. 23)

In this journey—from anguish to assurance—we find a pattern we can follow. We are invited to cry out, to long for rest, and then to place our burden in God’s hands.

Prayer
Lord, help me to cast my cares on you, for you have promised to sustain me.
Help me to trust you, knowing you will not let your faithful ones be shaken.
Keep me from betraying the trust of those close to me.
And where relationships are broken, give me grace to seek your healing. Amen


Monday, 14 July 2025

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


Saturday, 12 July 2025

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."

Friday, 11 July 2025

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.


Thursday, 10 July 2025

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.

Wednesday, 9 July 2025

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


Tuesday, 8 July 2025

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


Monday, 7 July 2025

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.

Saturday, 5 July 2025

Daily Devotions


“Elijah went a day’s journey into the wilderness, and came and sat down under a solitary broom tree. He asked that he might die: “It is enough; now, O Lord, take away my life, for I am no better than my ancestors.” Then he lay down under the broom tree and fell asleep. Suddenly an angel touched him and said to him, “Get up and eat.” He looked, and there at his head was a cake baked on hot stones, and a jar of water. He ate and drank, and lay down again. The angel of the Lord came a second time, touched him, and said, “Get up and eat, otherwise the journey will be too much for you.” 1 Kings 19:4-7

Mark Buchanan, in his book 'The Rest of God: Restoring Your Soul by Restoring Sabbath,' helps us understand how we should fully engage with Sabbath Rest.


“Sabbath-keeping requires two orientations. One is Godward. The other is time-ward. To keep Sabbath well—as both a day and an attitude—we have to think clearly about God and freshly about time. We likely, at some level, need to change our minds about both. Unless we trust God’s sovereignty, we won’t dare risk Sabbath. And unless we receive time as abundance and gift, not as ration and burden, we’ll never develop a capacity to savour Sabbath.” 


There’s a powerful story told of an American bomb disposal soldier named Ralph. His role was to clear minefields—an unimaginably dangerous task. He recounted how he had seen friends blown up right in front of him, one after another. When asked how he found peace in such terrifying circumstances, Ralph gave a striking answer:


“I learned to live between steps. I never knew whether the next one would be my last, so I learned to get everything I could out of the moment between when I picked up my foot and when I put it down again. Every step I took was a whole new world—and I guess I’ve just been that way ever since.”


There’s something deeply spiritual in that. Ralph teaches us that a grace-filled life is one that learns to live between the steps. It’s the life that finds sacredness not just in milestones, but in the moment—the breath, the pause, the gift of now. It’s a way of living that doesn’t wait for life to slow down but chooses to find God in the very midst of uncertainty.


Living between the steps means trusting that even when we don’t know what comes next, we are still in the care of the One who orders our steps and walks beside us.


Help me to hear your gentle voice above all the others that clamour for my attention. You will show me those things you want me to do, and you will be right there beside me as I do them, giving me strength. Thank you for your unfailing love and your deep and peaceful rest. Through your power and in your name I pray. Amen