He Wrote the Date (for the lad who once lived in the car park opposite Leeds Uni — a true story framed poetically) He slept beneath...

It was spring. The blossom tree stood, quiet, its branches soft with new life. Bluebells dotted the ground, fragile, waiting for...

He Set Himself on Fire (A true story framed poetically) He had ink all over him— names, dates, wounds. But it was the teardrop by his...

He reads it in a doorway, knees hugged to chest, back cold to the brick. Gospel half-torn, creased and smudged, given by Lighthouse,...

A Liturgical Reading by Rev’d Jon Swales MBE This liturgical resource is a prayerful journey through the ancient story — a story that...

Unfettered capitalism has cupiditas— not holy longings, not the ache that births justice or bends the soul in prayer— but the kind that...

They say your past doesn’t define you. Maybe. But it never fully lets go either. The stink of fish, rope-burned hands— that’s where I...

No One Can Snatch Me (John 10:22–30) I never had a dad. Not one who stayed. The care home clock ticked— a cold taskmaster— counting down...

“Your dead shall live, their corpses shall rise. O dwellers in the dust, awake and sing for joy! For your dew is a radiant dew, and the...

Wounds in the House of Love Not all violence comes with swords. Some arrives with silence. With a kiss. With a deal struck in the dark....

Stay with me, he says— but we are weary. Weary of sorrow, weary of waiting, weary of a world that keeps unraveling. Still— he invites....

They say it is morning. They say the sun has risen. They say the dew is fresh upon the olive leaves, and the birds sing as they always...

I lit a candle. Not for peace— not yet— but for the man who called himself the Bread of Life, now broken, butchered, starved by the world...

The Rejected Stone (Matthew 21:42; Matthew 24:2) They passed him by— this rough-hewn truth, still dusted with wilderness. Not the kind...

She moved like silence in a room full of eyes, broke the jar like a prophet breaks the sky. No words, just oil — and the scent of burial....

I don’t want to be a Christian who forgets how to feel— who hides behind answers, quotes verses like shields, and silences sorrow with a...

Found a Bible in the foodbank queue, someone left it wedged in the radiator. Fell open to Mary’s song— The ‘Magnificat’, they call it....

One foot in Eden, where light spills soft through the branches, and the river sings a song without sorrow. Here, the air is thick with...

Blessed be the One, wild and holy, whose breath stirs the void, whose voice hums in all things, whose light flickers in the deep. ...

Night spills across the earth like oil, thick with the hush of waiting. I slip between waking and the deep unseen, where time is...