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.

New Year Devotions

Be Thankful

1 Thessalonians 5:18 — “No matter what happens, always be thankful, for this is God’s will for you who belong to Christ Jesus.”

As Chaplain to the retail industry of Exeter, I hear it often—or rather, I hear its absence: those two simple yet meaningful words, “Thank you.” Many people feel that gratitude is disappearing from everyday life. While studies show that its use varies across cultures and contexts, it’s clear that digital communication has reshaped the way we express appreciation. Quick messages, emojis, and hurried interactions often replace thoughtful expressions of gratitude. Social norms shift, and the words can become perfunctory—or omitted altogether.

But notice Paul’s emphasis in today’s verse. He doesn’t simply say “say thank you”; he calls us to be thankful. The word thankful has roots in Old English meaning thoughtful. This raises a question: is Paul urging followers of Jesus to cultivate a gratitude that is not shallow or automatic, but deeply thoughtful?

Thoughtful thankfulness goes beyond politeness. It is a posture—a way of seeing God’s presence and goodness even in ordinary moments, and sometimes even in difficult ones. It acknowledges grace, recognises blessing, and responds with a heart tuned to God.

Illustration

Imagine holding a small stone in your hand. At first glance it seems plain, unremarkable. But if you pause and really look, you notice the smoothness shaped by years of flowing water, the subtle patterns etched by time.

Gratitude works the same way. At first, life may seem routine or even burdensome. But when we slow down and view our circumstances thoughtfully, we begin to notice God’s fingerprints—quiet mercies, hidden blessings, unexpected kindnesses. Thankfulness grows when we pay attention.

Prayer

Father, teach us to be truly thankful—not only in the easy moments, but in every season of life. Help us to cultivate a thoughtful gratitude that sees Your goodness even when life feels rushed or difficult. Open our eyes to the blessings that surround us, and shape our hearts to reflect the grace we have received in Christ Jesus. Amen.

Practice: Thank God for 3 tiny things.

New Year Devotions

On Sacred Pause

Mark 6:31 — “Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest.”

Most of us have heard the exasperated cry of someone overwhelmed: “Stop the world, I want to get off!” But for a disciple of Jesus, it’s not about escaping life—it’s about entering a sacred space. It’s choosing to pause in the holy presence Jesus promises His followers.

In Mark’s account, the disciples were coming and going so constantly that they didn’t even have time to eat. Today, the same thing often happens—not so much with physical food, but with spiritual nourishment. Our schedules fill, our minds race, and our souls go hungry.

Notice carefully what Jesus says. The word translated rest also carries the meaning to be refreshed. And look where He calls His disciples to find that refreshment: a desert, a lonely and quiet place. Perhaps Jesus chose such a setting precisely because it was free from distraction—an uncluttered space where His followers could breathe again and be renewed.

Sacred pause is not about stepping away from responsibility; it’s about stepping toward Jesus.

Imagine standing in a bustling train station—announcements blaring, people rushing, wheels clattering across the floor. In the middle of the noise, someone you trust gently places a hand on your shoulder and says, “Come with me.” They lead you through a door you hadn’t noticed before. On the other side is a small garden—quiet, still, sheltered from the chaos.

Nothing outside has changed, but you have. You’ve entered a space where you can hear again, breathe again, become whole again.

That is what Jesus offers: a sacred pause in the midst of life’s rush.

Prayer

Lord Jesus, draw us away from the noise and hurry of our days and into the quiet of Your presence. Teach us to pause before You—to rest, to be refreshed, and to listen. Remove the distractions that crowd our hearts, and renew us in the stillness of Your love. Lead us into the sacred pause where our souls find their true nourishment. Amen.

Practice: Pause before your next task.

New Year Devotions

Pay Attention

Exodus 3:1–5 — Moses turns aside to look.

In today’s passage, we find Moses catching sight of the burning bush. But unlike Dr. Watson in the famous words of Sherlock Holmes—“You see, but you do not observe”—Moses does more than simply notice. He truly observes. The Hebrew phrasing suggests both “to turn aside from” and “to turn aside to,” indicating not just a change of direction, but a deliberate shift of attention.

In other words, Moses chooses to focus on what matters. He steps away from the ordinary and stands on holy ground.

Paul writes in 2 Corinthians 5:17 that “if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.” Turning to Jesus also requires a holy reorientation—leaving behind the former way of life and receiving a new identity and purpose through union with Christ.

Imagine walking through a crowded marketplace, noise and movement all around you. Suddenly, you hear your name spoken softly—so softly that you could ignore it if you wished. But something in that voice makes you turn aside. When you look, you realise the one calling you is someone who loves you deeply. In the swirl of distractions, that single moment of turning becomes the beginning of a new direction.

This is what Moses experienced at the bush—and what we experience whenever Christ calls us to turn toward Him.

Lord, help us to turn aside from the noise and distractions of life and to turn toward You with attentive hearts. Give us eyes that observe, not just see, and lead us onto the holy ground of Your presence. Make us new creations in Christ, shaped by Your purpose and guided by Your love. Amen.

Practice: Notice one thing you usually miss.

New Year Devotions

January can feel like a long exhale. Our devotional theme for the month  gently invites us to notice God’s presence in the “ordinary things” of daily life — the kettle boiling, the commute, the quiet moments, the messy ones. No heroic resolutions. No spiritual guilt trips. Just small, doable steps that slowly turn our attention back to God.

WEEK 1 — Slowing Down Enough to Notice

1/1 Take a Breath
Psalm 46:10 — Be still and know…

What was it the great Welsh poet, William Henry Davies,  said, “What is this life if, full of care, We have no time to stand and stare. No time to stand beneath the boughs. And stare as long as sheep or cows.”

In our  world of urgency, rush and haste, we often miss so much and in fact put our selves in danger. Our bodies and brains absolutely hate it, even if we pretend we’re coping like champs.  When you’re constantly rushing, your system basically thinks you’re being chased by a bear 24/7. Too much rushing results in cortisol spikes, tense shoulders, foggy thinking, and that weird feeling that you’re forgetting something… because you probably are. Did you know that stress hits your heart harder than caffeine ever could. With all that rushing about even when you try to go to bed, your brain is still sprinting. Yes, that’s chronic rushing messing with your rest.

A  wildlife photographer spent a week trying to capture a rare bird. He had all the gear, all the patience, and all the knowledge — but for days the bird refused to appear. One afternoon he just sat down on a fallen log, exhausted. He wasn’t pretending to be still; he genuinely had nothing left in the tank.

And then something strange happened. As he stopped moving… the forest started. After a while, the soundscape changed. The forest “trusted” him again. And then, as if it had been waiting for him to stop striving, the rare bird landed on a branch just a few feet away. Long enough for the perfect photo.

Later he said, “I spent five days trying to find the bird… and it took five minutes of stillness for the bird to find me.”

Stillness doesn’t mean doing nothing — it means becoming the kind of person who can finally receive what God has been trying to give us all along. When we stop rushing, stop forcing, stop striving, the “voice” of God — the guidance, the peace, the reassurance, the next step — often finds us.

 “Be still, and know that I am God.”

Prayers 

God of quiet and calm,

slow our hearts and steady our minds.

In the silence, draw us close.

Let your peace settle over our worries

and your presence rest within us.

Make us still,

that we may know you are God.

Amen.

Stillness isn’t a luxury for holy people. It’s the quiet space where ordinary people finally hear the holy.

Practice: One minute of stillness today.