Night deepens. The candle burns low. I reach the next line of the Creed: He descended into hell And I pause. The words fall like a stone into silence. Yesterday he suffered. Today he sleeps. The world holds its breath. God has gone quiet. It is Holy Saturday. The space between agony and dawn, between “It is finished” and “He is risen.” Faith itself feels buried. If incarnation was God with us, and crucifixion was God for us, then this— this descent— is God beneath us. Love go

Passus sub Pontio Pilato, Crucifixus, Mortuus, et Sepultus (Suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died, and was buried) It is evening, and the shadows arrive. The chapel grows dim. I reach the next line: Suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died, and was buried. The words weigh heavy, thick with empire and execution. A governor’s name fixed forever in our creed. A reminder that the gospel bleeds within history. Pontius Pilate signs the order. Religion and emp

Qui Conceptus est de Spiritu Sancto, Natus ex Maria Virgine (Conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the Virgin Mary) The afternoon arrives, The air tastes of rain. I reach the next line: Conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the Virgin Mary. The infinite breathes into the finite. Spirit hovers again— as in the beginning, but now over a young woman’s yes. No temple, no throne, only the quiet chamber of a womb. Theotokos, God-bearer, her consent becomes creation’s hinge. Divinit

Rain taps against the window. A kettle hums. Somewhere the news mutters of conflict, climate and cost. I reach the next line: And in Jesus Christ. The room grows still. Not an idea now, but a man. A man with calloused hands and kind eyes. A man who knew splinters, hunger, laughter. Yeshua of Nazareth, his very name meaning the Lord saves. He comes not as Joshua with a sword, but as Yeshua with open palms. Not leading armies, but walking with fishermen. Not commanding from abo

The recycling lorry grinds past. Children head to work and school. Then stillness returns. After prayer, I step outside. The dawn leans in, dew on grass, a robin’s sermon, breath rising like incense. Creator of heaven and earth, the words arrive not as theory but as touch, taste, trembling: light through leaf, the smell of damp soil, the world alive with God. Once I thought creation a thing, a stage, a backdrop for redemption’s play. Now I see communion, each creature a sylla

A siren fades in the distance. Tea cools by the windowsill. I reach the next line— I believe in God, the Father Almighty. The words familiar, but this morning they hesitate on my tongue. Almighty. A word I’ve prayed, sung, preached— a word that once thundered, now trembles. If God is almighty, why the tears that never end? Why the rooms where violence breathes? Why the long ache of unanswered prayer? I’ve repeated these words a million times, as though power were the point— a

We are born with a deep longing to belong— to be accepted, embraced, and to find our place within community. This longing is not a flaw...

Just sketching things here, broad strokes. I know it’s not the full story. No nuance. But maybe it’s food for thought. The other night,...

It doesn’t make sense anymore. It used to. But not now. It’s not just a tension, not just a holy mystery you hold with trembling hands —...

Give us this day our daily bread Each Sunday at Lighthouse, after cries for the kingdom to come, we move to the next line of the prayer...

Each Sunday at Lighthouse, after a burst of heart-felt, honest, and holy prayer — the kind that comes when people have nothing left to...

The Church Is Not a Museum Churches are not museums of tradition or graveyards of yesteryear. They are not mausoleums filled with the...

Churches are not businesses. Now, this doesn’t mean there aren’t budgets to balance, resources to steward, or even that insights from...

'Climate Breakdown and Cruciform Adaptation' is a hard-hitting, prophetic follow-on course to 'Climate Justice: Following Jesus in a World

We are living in the midst of a profound storm, one that is shaking the very foundations of our civilisation. The crises we...

The Jesus follower is a cultural outsider—a misfit who doesn’t conform to the world’s expectations. They stand out, swimming against the...

We hear it often, whether at the vicar factory, in mission books, or from our leaders: Missio Dei—the mission of God. This phrase...

I’ve got a hunch, maybe even a dream, that we as church leaders need to keep on returning to theology—not just the kind that fills books,...

Religion is often dismissed as a crutch—a relic of humanity’s superstitious past, something we invented to make sense of a world we once...

A Meditation on Col 1:19-20 ‘For God was pleased to have all his fullness dwell in him, and through him to reconcile to himself all...