Easter Season 2026 – The First Letter of Peter
As we celebrate the resurrection of Jesus Christ, St Peter’s amazing letter helps us put that hope into practice. Written in challenging times, its life-giving wisdom is just as relevant today!
Note: all Inspirations are now uploaded until 21st April – scroll down for earlier posts (series begins 13th April)
Tuesday 21st April – 1 Peter 1:22-25 ‘Loving holiness’
One further reflection on holiness, as we close chapter 1 of this remarkable letter – and this is where we bring love back into the equation. Let’s pick up Peter’s wisdom in v22: ‘Now that you have purified yourselves by obeying the truth so that you have sincere love for each other, love one another deeply, from the heart.’ Ultimately, holiness is made perfect in love. Too often we talk about holiness and love as things that are somehow are in conflict with each other. We have these parodies of ‘holy’ churches which are all rules and repression and fire and brimstone, and ‘loving’ churches which are all fluffy and anything goes and don’t really believe much at all.
Peter doesn’t see it like that – in fact, Jesus doesn’t. Holiness and love go together, hand-in-hand. Two sides of the same coin, they complete each other. Real holiness is seeped in love. We love because we are holy, we are holy because we love. Love which does not call people to live holy lives is not love at all – if God thinks something is wrong, we have to be brave and humble enough to trust God on that. Equally, holiness which is not saturated in humble, gracious, self-giving love is not true holiness, just a diet version of the real thing. Holy people love deeply, from the heart.
This is what the new, born-again life of a follower of Jesus looks like. We are born again to something eternal, imperishable, founded on the Word of God, which endures forever (v25). It’s interesting that Peter still refers to us in this passage, like he did earlier, as ‘foreigners’. This kind of lifestyle, this blend of love and holiness, is unusual. And, in a season when questions of nationality and identity dominate our news, let’s finish by reflecting that, according to Peter, the leader appointed by Jesus as the first shepherd of the body of Christ, all followers of Jesus are foreigners. That is our identity, and we should be proud of it, because it is the name given to us by the Lord, who brings people from all nations into his kingdom.
So as the global body of Christ, all of us strangers and foreigners here on earth, let’s recommit ourselves again today to loving holiness – to being holy because Jesus is holy, and to loving one another deeply, from the heart. And may the Lord grant us all grace to follow in the footsteps of Peter, and all the saints (the holy ones), who have gone before us, today, and always. Amen.
Monday 20th April – 1 Peter 1:17-21 ‘Holy awe’
Today’s passage is a challenging one, because it commands us to fear (v17). And that bothers us, because surely we’re meant to be free from fear? So, let’s tackle this head-on, because it’s worth reminding ourselves that there are two types of fear: healthy and unhealthy. Unhealthy fear is absolutely something from which Jesus sets us free; and it is instructive that one of the first things he says to his friends after his resurrection is, ‘Do not be afraid.’ (e.g. Matthew 28:10)
However, just as in life generally we need certain types of fear to help us avoid things that can harm us, so in the spiritual life, we retain a similar healthy fear – it might be better translated as ‘awe’. Our awe of God means that we stay clear of things which damage us or destroy us.
Part of the reason for this is what it cost God to make us holy. As the passage continues: if the resurrection of Jesus is the foundation of our living hope, the death of Jesus is the foundation of our holiness: (v18) ‘For you know that it was not with perishable things such as silver or gold that you were redeemed from the empty way of life handed down to you from your ancestors, but with the precious blood of Christ, a lamb without blemish or defect.’
Our salvation cost Jesus everything. The only truly and perfectly holy person who ever lived gave his life that we might be set free: not just from our sin, but from ways of life which have little value. Peter calls them ‘empty’, and such ways are not confined to ancient history; we all know the emptiness of much of modern living.
So, we are holy as a thankful response to what Jesus did for us. Awe is really the conscious presence of a holy God – may the Lord grant us that awe today, and may we live fruitfully, abundantly, as a result. Amen.
Saturday 18th April – Psalm 9 ‘The Judgment’
A brief pause from 1 Peter to conclude our week:
The modern church urgently needs to recover a healthy doctrine of judgment. Generally, it’s a word we avoid – and I think we lose a huge amount by doing so. Perhaps too often the word has been used only in negative ways, as something to create fear or as a stick to beat people with. And the ‘negative’ aspect of judgment is half right – but only half right! Which is the problem….
Judgment is – or should be – a completely neutral term. It defines God’s righteous decision-making in relation to the world, and his capacity to put those decisions into action. It is a glorious truth, because it reminds us that (a) God really is in control, and (b) that all things will be put right – sometimes in this life, and definitely in the world to come. This is something to celebrate: a doctrine of comfort and joy for God’s people! Not to be abused, or only applied to other people (which is very much a human trait) – but a foundation stone, if you like, that puts the chaos and troubles of our world into context, and promises hope to all who call on the name of the Lord.
As David declares in today’s psalm that, ‘The Lord… has established his throne for judgment’ (v7), he reminds us that judgment cuts both ways. On the one hand, the wicked get their just desserts (vv3-6, vv15-17) – though we should temper David’s approach to his enemies through the lens of the New Testament.
On the other hand, and positively, David affirms the Lord’s judgment in favour of two groups of people: first, those who are oppressed (v9), afflicted (v12) or needy (v18). The Lord is refuge for all who are vulnerable. Many such people may not get justice in this life – but, the psalm affirms, God has not forgotten them, and ‘the hope of the afflicted will never perish’ (v18).
Second, the Lord judges in favour of his people: (v10) ‘Those who know your name trust in you, for you, Lord, have never forsaken those who seek you.’ This is good news! God has not forgotten us, either. He has not forgotten you.
I find it hard to know how to pray for the big conflicts of the world. But today’s psalm helps me to find a good perspective: the Lord knows the hearts, not just of individuals, but of nations, and he will ultimately be their judge. Take a few moments today to commend all these situations into the Lord’s hands – and, as we do that, let’s also pray for the vulnerable and followers of Christ caught up in them: for the Lord has never forsaken those who seek him.
Friday 17th April – 1 Peter 1:13-17 ‘Be holy’
If I was to ask you which quality of God’s character is mentioned most often in the New Testament of the bible, what would you guess? It’s obvious, isn’t it? – it’s agape love. This is the word invented by Christians in the middle of the first century to describe love as Jesus showed it. It’s the word Paul uses in his great hymn to love: love is patient, love is kind, and so on.
And then we get to John’s great insight, the amazing distillation of over a thousand pages of divinely inspired scriptural revelation into this one simple phrase: God is love. It stands to reason, therefore, that the two great commands given to human beings – who are made in God’s image, the God who is in his very being love – are these: love God and love your neighbour. Even the Pharisees knew that.
But you’d be wrong. Yes, the word agape is mentioned a lot – 259 times – in the New Testament. But there’s another word mentioned even more, 261 times – and that is the word ‘holy’.
Funny isn’t it, that we all know that God is agape, God is love, but even in the New Testament, there are more references to holiness. That’s primarily because the word used to name Christian believers in the New Testament, which most bible translations translate as ‘saints’ is in fact the word hagioi – which means holy ones. Not agapoi – loving ones – but holy ones. In other words, the single most compelling characteristic used to define Christians in the New Testament, i.e. the first and original generation of the church, is that we are holy.
And perhaps that’s something that we feel a bit unsure about. Unlike some Christian words like hope, joy, peace, and of course love, which have almost universally positive connotations, the word holy or holiness gets more of a mixed press. In part that’s because we’ve all heard the sort of lazy theology which contrasts the ‘holy’ God of the Old Testament with the ‘loving’ God of the New. But it’s also because we carry images of the word ‘holy’ which aren’t flattering: we think uptight, sanctimonious, po-faced, a whole list of ‘oughts and can’ts’.
But the thing is, Jesus was the holiest person who ever lived – so maybe the problem is with our definition? So, let’s go back to basics – what does the word holy mean? It means set apart – particularly set apart for God. That is why God’s very essence is defined as holy, because God is uniquely set apart from all of his creation – yes, creation is good, but only the Lord God is perfect.
As scripture unfolds, we learn that God’s name is holy, the law is holy – and also, God calls his people to be holy: ‘a kingdom of priests and a holy nation’ is how God describes them to Moses just before the giving of the Ten Commandments. That was 1,200 years before Jesus, but his great friend Peter is still working with the same frame of reference when he introduces our passage for today quoting God’s words from the Old Testament law: ‘Be holy because I am holy.’ If the fundamental call of the Christian life is to become more like Jesus – then we grow not just in love, or joy or peace or hope, but in holiness too.
Today, take a few moments to reflect on your calling to be holy. Where is God setting you apart? How can you live out that calling today? And may the Lord grant us all grace to be holy, as he is holy. Amen.
Thursday 16th April – 1 Peter 1:10-12 ‘Hope which saves’
As we continue our reflections on hope, we see a third outcome, our theme for today: this hope ‘concerns our salvation’. You see, we don’t just need hope for a better life – we need to be saved from something first. What Peter calls the sufferings and glories of the Messiah served a purpose. They dealt with our greatest enemies: sin, evil and death. Our hope is not self-help – it is restoration to our true selves, and only God can accomplish it in us. Perhaps that’s why so many young people are coming back to faith. We now have a society which apparently offers us everything, but very little of it actually helps. Much of it makes things worse. Our phones are full of precious metals… but people want something of greater worth than gold.
This quest is nothing new. As Peter attests, the Old Testament prophets ‘searched intently and with the greatest care’ – they were primarily seeking the Messiah, but of course we only need saving because things are not as they should be. What was true 2,500-3,000 years ago is just as true now, and even the angels long for the answer (v12)…
…In Jesus we find it! We find a hope which concerns our salvation, carries us through trials and can never perish spoil or fade. The long peace in Europe after the Second World War, almost unparalleled in human history, has come to an end. Times are anxious again. How we need Peter’s words today.
As we reflect on these things today, let’s close with the final responses used during the service at Westminster Abbey on 8th May 1945, and may be our prayer, too:
‘O give thanks to the Lord, for He is gracious: and His mercy endures forever. Not to us, O Lord, not to us, but to your name we give praise: for your loving mercy and your truth’s sake.’ Amen.
Wednesday 15th April – 1 Peter 1:3-9 ‘Hope in dark times’
As we continue this amazing start to Peter’s letter, the second thing we see is that this living hope carries us through the dark times. And it’s clear from Peter’s letter that his readers were experiencing plenty of those – he talks of them suffering ‘grief in all kinds of trials.’ (v6)
When life forces our head down, we need to look up – up to our true and living hope. And this is one of those passages which must have inspired the famous ‘Footprints in the sand story’. (If you don’t immediately recognise that name, you can read it here)
While writing this reflection, I was struck by a quote I came across in an article by Sheila Hancock about what VE Day (the end of the Second World War in Europe) was really like for much of the population: ‘Yes, in 1945 we were relieved that the bombs and doodlebugs and rocket weapons had stopped, and we heard there was fun going on in the West End of London – but where I lived it was less jubilant. The war there felt far from over: we were still waiting anxiously for the return of the young lad next door from the rumoured horror of a Japanese prisoner of war camp, and many of my friends were trying to accept as fathers strange men they barely knew… I imagine the grownups were utterly exhausted and often grief-stricken.’
It’s easy to look at the photos of central London on 8th May 1945 and assume everyone was just having a big party. But actually, many people were just exhausted; and there was still a long, hard road ahead. As Peter observes in our text, even gold perishes – we need something to hold onto which goes deeper. And here is where it might be useful to notice that Peter talks about our inheritance being one that not only doesn’t perish, it doesn’t spoil or fade either. Even our best experiences of life are usually diluted in some way. But our living hope doesn’t spoil or fade.
80 years ago, the generation that survived the war had a much stronger grasp of these realities than their children or grandchildren. But maybe, their great-grandchildren are starting to appreciate those more again. Since 2018 the number of 18-24s who connect with church regularly has increased from 4% to 16%, and to 21% among young men. That’s a four- or five-fold increase in 7 years! A new generation is looking for living hope – and in Christ they find it.
Today, dark times seem as vivid as ever, especially on a global level. Let’s pray for grace to hold on to hope, a hope that carries us through all things. And may that hope make itself known to ever more people across our troubled world. Amen.
Tuesday 14th April – 1 Peter 1:3-4 ‘Hope which can never perish’
Picking up where we left off yesterday, Peter continues the start to this motivational letter with the most important reason to keep going: (v3) ‘Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead.’ The resurrection is the ultimate gamechanger. A radical new power has broken into the world. Death is no longer the final end: Jesus has conquered it. Jesus is our living hope – living forever, glorified forever, the Word made flesh, who reigns over all. Nothing can defeat him now – his will be the victory.
Wow! That’s not a bad place to start, is it? This is why we’re doing this short series after Easter, because this little letter roots everything in the good news of the resurrection. A resurrection which Peter himself had witnessed, of course. He speaks of what he knows, what he has seen.
So what are the consequences of this unbreakable hope? The rest of the passage gives us three amazing outcomes, the first of which we’ll look at today: this hope ‘can never perish spoil or fade.’ In fact Peter calls it an inheritance. Usually inheritances are only released by someone else – uniquely this one is released by our own death! We inherit at that point, because this inheritance is ‘kept in heaven for us’.
Heaven is real, and when you think about it, you’ll spend a lot more time there than the few years you get on this earth. When life is good, that attitude seems a bit po-faced. But for people facing real crises, relentless challenges, even the steady decline of their own health – isn’t it good news to know that this isn’t all there is? That there is something way, way better than even the best of what we have now.
Today, give thanks that our living hope can never perish spoil or fade. Hallelujah!
Monday 13th April – 1 Peter 1:1-2 ‘Elect and exiles’
Here’s a question to begin: what do you hope for? No doubt that question would generate a range of answers: maybe for yourself or a loved-one to get well, a good holiday, a new or better job. Or maybe it’s for something bigger: for more peace in the world, less exploitation, for our planet to survive.
Today we start a new series in the wonderful first letter written by St Peter. It’s not a bad effort for a fisherman, with little formal education! That’s the effect that Jesus has on someone. And it reminds me of that lovely encounter on the beach after the resurrection, when Jesus restores his friend and says: ‘Feed my sheep.’ Peter is certainly doing that in this amazing little book.
And as we begin, our main theme is hope. Hope is much misunderstood word in our society, often reduced to wishful thinking. But hope is not just wishful thinking: it is the confident expectation that one day things will be better than they are now. Whatever you hope for, hope is something inspirational, motivating – it gets us out of bed in the morning, puts unexpected peace and joy in our hearts during the day, and enables us to sleep at night.
So, knowing where to find hope is like knowing where to mine for gold. Think of all the gold rushes that sent hundreds of thousands of people migrating across continents, creating whole new communities and industries because they thought they could find gold there. We need a ‘hope rush’ at present – to know where we can find true hope, and to invest heavily in that.
And Peter is writing to these small, hard-pressed Christian communities precisely to offer that real hope. It’s fascinating how he starts – to whom does he address the letter? Christians are described using two words, 2 ‘e’s – elect and exiles. Both words are laden with meaning, they really define two great themes of the Old Testament: first, God’s people are chosen, by God himself – we don’t earn it, God lavishes his favour on us because he loves us. So we are ‘elect’ i.e. chosen – but we are also ‘exiles’ (old translations use ‘strangers’). This was the fate promised to Israel if they abandoned God, but as the history of God’s people wore on, it also became the way they saw themselves.
That image of being strangers, exiles in the world, became the dominant one for the early church, too, and by extension us as well – followers of Jesus are not like the rest of the world, we serve a different Master and learn to live out our faith in different, even hostile cultures. That’s not an excuse to disengage from the world, but rather to seek to transform it. And it’s clear from the rest of the letter that this is exactly what the Christians he’s writing to are doing. They are distinctive, and one of Peter’s messages is: don’t give up. Keep going.
As we begin our week, take a few moments to reflect on this dual citizenship we have: chosen, but also strangers. Peter’s greeting – ‘grace and peace’ – offers us inspiration in both dimensions: being chosen brings peace, being strangers requires grace. Praise be to God that we are given both, and in abundance! So let’s not give up, and live as citizens of both earth and heaven today. Amen.
Easter Week
Saturday 11th April – John 17:1-7,20-23 ‘That they may be one…’
Let’s ask ourselves a cheeky question for a few moments: if Jesus was to visit earth for a while this year, which church would he join? Would he be a charismatic or a Catholic, an evangelical or a liberal? Is he secretly an Anglican or a Baptist or a Pentecostal? Would his requirements be very specific?
I’m sure most of us will be thinking two answers to my question. The one we’ll say aloud with a beatific smile on our face is: ‘Jesus would be happy to join lots of churches.’ The one we’ll be thinking is: ‘but I’m sure he’d prefer my church to the other lot round here.’ And from one perspective, that’s fine: to be honest, if we don’t think Jesus would want to join our church we’re in the wrong church.
But although we joke about it, there’s a real issue here. On one level, a huge movement like the church is going to have lots of faces, and we should celebrate that. On the other hand, the fragmentation and divisions should make us weep. It’s not what Jesus planned – look at what he prays in our passage for today – ‘That they may be one, as we are one.’ Jesus loves diversity, but not division. His desire is for us to be one.
As most of you know – but some may not – we are an ecumenical church. What that means is that several types of church – Anglican, Baptist, Methodist, Reformed and Catholic – have partnered together to be one church. It’s our little way of saying that what divides us is way less than what unites us. We will all disagree over some stuff, but being together as one community of Jesus is much more important.
And today’s passage reminds me why I want to be a minister leading that kind of church. It’s what Jesus wants for us. We might not always do it very well, and I’m sure there’s loads I could do better, but, as best we can, we’re trying to be faithful to what Jesus prayed for us: to be one, a community of love which in turn reflects his love to the world.
But this is not some wishy-washy ‘love is all you need’ type of message. It is based supremely in one act. ‘Glorify your Son,’ Jesus prays, and what he means is: glorify him as he gives his life on a cross. This is how we know what love is, St John reflects elsewhere – Jesus laid down his life for us. True love is selfless service: and as Jesus loved us, so we offer that to each other and to the world.
So, today, let’s celebrate that we are one; but let’s also remember that this one-ness calls us to offer ourselves for the good of others, wherever we are. Then the world will know that God sent Jesus and has loved us, even as God loved him. Amen.
Friday 10th April – Acts 17:16-28 ‘God in our hearts’
I wonder what is the greatest city you’ve visited? In our modern world, there are many such cities. I myself have lived most of my life in London, and I’ve been fortunate to visit some of the other great cities of the world.
In today’s passage, we find St. Paul in Athens: at the time the second greatest city on earth behind Rome, and unquestionably its greatest in terms of learning and culture. But I’m fascinated by Paul’s response to this experience: what he saw, what he did and what he felt. What Paul saw was not a city full of extraordinary buildings and unparalleled learning, but a city full of idols. What he felt was not awe at its grandeur, but distress at its spiritual ignorance. What he did was dedicate himself to sharing the good news of Jesus.
Paul saw through Athens’ impressive facade to its real heart: idolatrous and looking for wisdom in the wrong places. We human beings tend to create god or gods in our image, not the other way round – and St Paul is having none of it. His God, our God, the one true God, is not like this. He’s not small or only concerned with a part of our lives. Notice how he begins the key section of his sermon: ‘The God who made the world and everything in it is the Lord of heaven and earth.’ Our God is a great big God – he made the whole world, the whole universe is suffused with his presence.
And notice the three radical implications of this statement which immediately follow: first, ‘God does not live in temples built by human hands.’ How could he? How could any building be big enough to house this God? We humans have certainly tried, and who can fail to be awe-inspired by some of those buildings? But God is bigger than all of them; he’s not limited to certain places on earth or in our lives. There is no place on earth where Jesus can’t say: ‘This is mine.’
Second, God doesn’t need anything. Or as Paul says: ‘He is not served by human hands.’ He doesn’t need our libations or rituals to appease him or impress him. He is complete and whole within himself. We do all that stuff to try and make ourselves feel better, not God. And third, it is this God whose breath fills our lives: ‘He gives everyone life and breath and everything else.’
The true God is not limited to certain places or rituals or buildings, to certain boxes and compartments in our lives. He fills the whole universe, and all of our lives matter to him – every breath, every thought, everything that matters to us matters to Him as well. Or as Paul summarises beautifully later in his speech: ‘In him we live and move and have our being.’
Imagine a life where every moment is filled with God’s presence. We can bring every worry to him, we can cry every tear with him, we can share every joy with him, we can celebrate every blessing knowing that he is smiling with us. This is not fiction or pie in the sky: it is the reality of what Jesus came to bring us. God’s Spirit – in other words his very breath, his presence – comes to dwell in us. It is what you might call the with-God life.
And one prayer we can all pray for the church in this nation is that it would rise up again in our generation with this truth etched into every moment of our lives, wherever we are: ‘In him we live and move and have our being.’ Amen.
Thursday 9th April – John 14:1-6,27 ‘Jesus Our Way and Peace’
Receiving peace is one of the foundational themes of the New Testament. St Paul introduced all of his letters with the greeting: ‘Grace and Peace’. Grace is what enables us to know salvation and the zoe life of God within us; peace is the first and greatest outcome of this new life.
Peace is designed to be the hallmark of every dimension of our relationships. Peace with God, peace with others, peace with ourselves. We are called to peace. In Colossians 3:15, Paul writes: ‘Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace.’ Peace is not merely the absence of strife; it is the presence of harmony.
And peace is not merely a concept, such as not harming someone. Notice what Paul wrote: ‘Let the peace of Christ rule…’ The idea of peace is not what solves conflict; it is the peace of Jesus that provides the power to live and work in harmony.
So what is the peace of Jesus? It is “the peace that belongs to his kingdom by virtue of his sovereignty.” Jesus rules and reigns over everything: all creation, all humanity and all history. When we step into his reign (in other words, when we step into the kingdom of God), we step into his peace. We can now live in constant interaction with Jesus, and because of his protection, guidance and provision, we have nothing to fear; we can live with real confidence. In the kingdom of God we are safe, secure, valued and assured that God is with us.
And this assurance enables us to receive the peace of Christ, a peace that, as Jesus says the world cannot give; or as St Paul puts it elsewhere, a peace that surpasses all understanding.
It’s why Jesus is so emphatic when it comes to issues of worry, fear or anxiety. Have you noticed that Jesus never talks about these things in terms of advice or encouragement, but instead as a command? He doesn’t say: try not to worry, try not to fear, try not to be troubled… He commands it: ‘Do not worry, do not fear, do not be troubled.’
Of course we all face temptations to worry and fear, to un-peace as you might say. And Jesus knows that. But he also knows that the solution is not human effort or technique. The key to peace is found in him, and through him. He is the Way. Our peace is found in a person, one who has all the power and resources of the universe at his disposal. His perfect love casts out our fear.
And so he says to his disciples: Do not be troubled, because I am the way. All other worldviews, all other religious teachers, say: this is the way. Only Jesus says: ‘I am the way.’ The key to life is not a set of moral values or guidelines or principles, it’s a relationship. It’s a deep union of love with Jesus.
‘…and when you know that, you’ll know the right way to live, because I am the Truth. And you’ll have abundant life, because I am the Life.’
And so we can affirm these great words again today, and claim the peace that Jesus promises his followers. In these troubled times, we are surrounded by the shadow of death. And yet, we can also affirm, with hope and even joy, that peace is possible, a real peace, a peace that only Jesus can give, because he is the Way, the Truth and the Life. Amen.
Wednesday 8th April – John 10:7-18 ‘The Good Shepherd’
Nine years ago, on the second Sunday of 2017, we were about to start the 9.30am service at St Mary’s, when one of our welcomers came and found me urgently. ‘Come outside, you’ll want to see this,’ they said. So I hustled out and watched one of the more unusual sights I’ve seen in my thirteen years here. Running along the road, and just passing the churchyard gate, were about 50 sheep.
We had no idea where they had come from or where they were going. I don’t think they had any idea where they were going either! There was great excitement – some wag commented that our flock had swelled considerably that day. But anyway we delayed the start of our service to work out what on earth we were going to do with them. It took quite some time… but eventually, by lunchtime, the sheep were safely back in a nearby field.
What’s the moral of this story? ‘Never leave your gate open’ would be one of them. But more simply, sheep need a shepherd. Look what happens when a large flock is left to its own devices.
Jesus tells us today: ‘I am the good shepherd.’ Or to make it more personal: ‘I am your good shepherd. I know you and you know me. You know my voice, you know that life is better with me, because my life is dedicated to you.’
In these times we need the reassurance of that voice perhaps now more than ever. To know that we have a good shepherd leading us through the chaos and uncertainty, one who is totally dedicated to us, who walks with us and will never leave us, who comes to meet us where we are.
And our shepherd ultimately means to give us life – life in all its fullness. The Greeks had two different words for ‘life’ – bios and zoe. ‘Bios’ means physical existence – simply being alive, breathing. ‘Zoe’ is real life – spiritual life, wellbeing, wholeness. This is the word Jesus uses here when he says that his purpose for us is abundant life – abundant zoe.
We are wired for zoe life. It’s built into our DNA, because we are made in God’s image, so therefore we long for the same things God already has within himself. Even those who would not profess our faith long for deep relationship, strong community, fruitful lives and to rejoice in the beauty of our world.
But to really know this kind of wholeness, this abundant zoe life, we need to receive it from the one who made it – the Good Shepherd himself, Jesus Christ. By God’s grace we can all experience it in part: but the fullness is only found in Christ. He is the gate, he’s the way to know this true life, he’s the one who can plant it deep in our hearts. Without him, we get the temporary ‘hired hands’ version, not the real thing.
So today, let’s give thanks for our Good Shepherd. Let’s acknowledge our need for him, let’s invite him to lead us again. And let’s do that confident of this great truth: that his plan for us is true life, zoe life, life in all its fullness. Amen.
Tuesday 7th April – Luke 24:13-35 ‘Emmaus’
I wonder if any of you have ever had the experience of talking with someone you didn’t recognise, and then later discovering that they were famous? In 2015 Cristiano Ronaldo, the world’s most famous footballer, disguised himself and went out to play football in one of Madrid’s central plazas for an hour. Almost no-one gave him the time of day. Most walked by quickly, embarrassed at the thought they might be asked for money by someone who looked more or less like a tramp. Eventually one little boy joined in properly, and passed the ball around with this stranger and tried to tackle him. After a while, the stranger picked up his ball, asked the boy’s name, signed the ball… and then took off the disguise bit by bit.
As you can imagine, at that point pandemonium broke out. The last scene on the secretly-filmed video was of Ronaldo walking out of the square surrounded by a great entourage of dozens of fans. Unlike Jesus, not even Ronaldo could disappear from their sight!
The image that stayed with me, though, was the face of the little lad just after he realised what he’d done, that he’d actually not just met one of the world’s most famous people, but played 1-on-1 and even tackled him. He was overcome with emotion and buried his face in his mum’s coat.
That sense of overwhelming emotion was probably just a fraction of what would have been experienced by Cleopas and his friend. Can you imagine suddenly realising that you’d just spent the day with God himself, their Lord and friend Jesus? And they hadn’t even realised!
The road to Emmaus is such a wonderful story, and there’s so much we could say about it. How Jesus opened their hearts to the Scriptures and showed them how his coming was written throughout the ages of the Old Testament. How Jesus met them in the breaking of bread and everything that tells us about both hospitality and sharing communion. How we can rejoice in further evidence of the resurrection as Jesus widens the circle of people he appears to, people who will witness to the glorious truth of our faith in the years to come.
All of those are great to reflect on – but I just want to pick up on one simple point that the story tells me today. And it’s this – when we know and love Jesus, when we follow him, we are never alone. Jesus walks with us every step of the way. We never walk alone.
Like the disciples, we might not always recognise him. There are times in our lives, tough times, when it seems like there is just one set of footprints in the sand, as the famous story goes. But the point is not that God has left us, rather that we haven’t recognised his presence at that point. He is still there, still whispering truth into our ears, still breaking bread with us.
That is a message which encourages me in this challenging season. Many of you may have asked yourselves the question this year: where is Jesus? Or maybe others have voiced it to you. Perhaps it’s something that has affected you in the past, or that you fear in the future.
The story of Emmaus tells me that Jesus is right there with us. He has never left us. He walks with us, he guides us, he shares with us. It was an extraordinary coincidence – or God-incidence – that in 2020 on the day the church told this story, the song at the top of the charts has this as its chorus – and could there be a better word from God to us today: Walk on, walk on, with hope in your hearts. And you’ll never walk alone. You will never walk alone. Amen.
Monday 6th April – John 20:19-31 ‘Thomas’
Poor old Thomas. Imagine being the one character of history who gets the nickname ‘doubting’. Other famous people get tagged with ‘The Brave’ or ‘The Wise’ or ‘The Just’. And Thomas was at least two of those things: by reputation he later founded the church in India, which is quite a brave and wise thing to do. But no, for all that he did before and after, he’s forever known as the Doubter.
In recent years a new term has come into our language – FOMO. It’s an acronym, it stands for Fear Of Missing Out, and modern psychologists have concluded that this is one of the great drivers of our current Western society. Largely driven by the way technology has crept into every part of our lives, we hate to miss out on things more than ever before. It’s why so many people are always checking their social media, or the news, or their phones every few minutes – as a society many of us have developed FOMO: a deep fear of missing out.
And when we look at Thomas we can see why – if anyone should get a case of FOMO it would be Thomas. He didn’t just miss the latest celebrity news, or the latest video of dogs which look uncannily like Winston Churchill, he missed the resurrection of the Son of God! He missed seeing his friend and leader do something which had never been done in the whole of human history – come back from the dead.
So maybe we can feel some sympathy. Thomas reacted as most of us do when we miss something really great, our sadness tends to turn into petulance. It’s a natural response fuelled by hurt: it’s a way of saying: ‘Jesus needs to make it up to me, because it’s not fair that I’ve missed out.’ And maybe that’s something we all feel at points in our lives, when things don’t work out as we think they should.
We hold these two great things in tension – God is sovereign, he’s in charge; and yet he also gives us free will, so most of the time we can get on with things. The problem I’ve observed with most of the answers to difficult events is that they tend to focus on one of these extremes or the other: it’s either all us, or all God. And so we shout at God, or we shout at our leaders or some other scapegoat.
The story of Thomas tells me that God’s answer is different. Jesus doesn’t reason with us, or argue it out: he comes to meet us where we are. Jesus’ answer to Thomas’ hurt is simply his presence. ‘Put your hands here, and here…’ Just like Job in the Old Testament, God’s answer to the difficult questions is the gift of his presence. Here I am: ‘your Lord and your God’.
And the great truth of our faith is that he still comes to meet us. He breathes the breath of His Spirit on us just as he breathed on his disciples, and utters those glorious words: ‘Peace be with you.’
My prayer is that the warmth of Jesus’ presence will come to each one of us today, and this week, and throughout this season. And I encourage us to invite that presence every day, to offer a simple prayer: ‘Jesus I need you, come close to me, come dwell with me today’ – that we might too receive the blessing of Jesus that he gave to his disciples: ‘blessed are you who have not seen and yet have believed… Peace be with you.’
Holy Week
A short series of reflections from Matthew’s gospel:
Saturday 4th April – Matthew 27:57-66 ‘Sitting there’
I can’t sit still for long. I’m better than I used to be, which isn’t saying a lot – and probably as much to do with being older as any great advance in my capacity for stillness. I like being busy, doing lots of different things, cramming my days full. Achieving. Or so I think.
This is not just my nature – there’s a lot of nurture too. My school culture rewarded competing, and I was only too happy to sign up to that. Then just as I started to ease up, parenthood kicks in and gives us all something akin to attention deficit disorder. When you’ve got young children you never get to focus on anything for very long – and after a while, you find you’ve lost the knack, if only to stop yourself falling asleep whenever you get a free moment.
I must admit (with some embarrassment) that, ironically, being a vicar doesn’t help much with leading a more contemplative life. Long days, unexpected pastoral crises, paper-thin boundary between home and work, and the awkward fact that many other people’s sabbath is the most intense part of my week. Plus the internal and external pressure of being seen to make the most of your calling: the old Protestants used to call it ‘redeeming the time,’ thereby even creating a theology out of what is basically workaholism. I don’t get paid to sit in a chair, do I? Or so the whisper in my ear goes…
So, what struck me today as I reflected on our passage are not the much more obvious stories in the text: not Joseph giving up his tomb for the crucified convict. Nor the religious leaders desperately seeking to shore up their own lies with the threat of (what they presented as) an even bigger one. Nor even the comical image of Pilate setting up a security detail to thwart the purposes of the Lord Almighty –as if a few spears and a big stone was going to make a jot of difference!
It’s the tiny detail I’d never noticed before – the women ‘sitting there’ (v61). Note that this is not Sunday morning, or indeed earlier on Friday when the crowds surrounded the cross. This is Friday evening – the crowds went hours ago, the disciples have long since fled, even Joseph (aided by Nicodemus, as John tells us) has finished his funereal duties and wandered off. And still they sit. Just being close to their departed friend. Watching, waiting, grieving, loving.
Why is the greatest event of all history, the resurrection of Jesus, revealed first to Mary and Mary? There are lots of answers to that, but the simplest one of all is this: because they were there. They were the last to leave and the first to come back. They spent time with their Lord, even in death. And I find that both immensely inspiring and immensely challenging at the same.
On Holy Saturday it’s hard to keep sitting. If we’re lucky, we may have social events to enjoy. We’ll certainly have plans to complete for Easter Sunday or Bank Holiday Monday, food to buy, eggs to hide, and so on, and so on. We’ve done the sitting on Friday, we’ll do the singing on Sunday. But in between….
This is a thought more to myself than to anyone reading – but nonetheless a worthwhile one. Take a few moments if you can today to sit with Mary and Mary, to contemplate the tomb, to remember again what it cost Jesus before the joy of tomorrow. Tomorrow always comes – hallelujah! – but there’s gold in the waiting, too.
Lord Jesus, help me to sit today, even for a few moments. To watch and wait with your friends, that I, with them, might experience tomorrow with fresh eyes. Amen.
Good Friday: take some time to read Matthew 26:57-27:56 and spend time at the foot of the cross.
Thursday 2nd April – Matthew 26:47-56 ‘Twelve legions’
‘I turned round to see the voice that was speaking to me…. The hair on his head was white like wool, as white as snow, and his eyes were like blazing fire. His feet were like bronze glowing in a furnace, and his voice was like the sound of rushing waters. In his right hand he held seven stars, and coming out of his mouth was a sharp, double-edged sword. His face was like the sun shining in all its brilliance. When I saw him, I fell at his feet as though dead.’
These words of St John in the Book of Revelation give us a wonderful insight into what the heavenly Jesus looks like. So often we like to imagine the human Jesus, just like us – and rightly so. God comes into the mess of our world, and how we needed him to! But it’s not the whole story. Jesus is fully human, but also fully God. The glorified Jesus is an altogether different proposition – so breathtakingly magnificent that even one of his best friends can do nothing but fall on his face in terrified awe.
This is who we’re really dealing with – the King of Kings and Lord of Lords, who reigns for ever and ever. And as we see in today’s passage, it’s also who the crowds that confronted Jesus at his arrest were really dealing with – if only they knew! And Jesus at one point sees fit to remind them of it. ‘Don’t think for a moment,’ Jesus says, ‘that you’re arresting me because you have all the power here.’
When Jesus goes with them, he’s not being pragmatic in the face of superior force. Far from it. If he wished to, he could call on ‘twelve legions of angels’ – or 72,000 heavenly beings. Just like that. With a click of his fingers every club could be snapped like a twig, every sword bent into a plough, every thug rounded up and dealt with. Just like that. You don’t mess with the Almighty Sovereign Ruler of the Universe, the Eternal Lord of all Creation….
…Unless this Lord wills it. (That word again.) And in this case, the Lord does. All that power, all that authority is hidden, locked up for a time, because a deeper work is at play. God’s word – delivered by numerous prophets – must be fulfilled.
And so Jesus goes with them – willingly. The hard work in Gethsemane has been completed: an even harder work lies ahead. But today we give thanks that what happens at Jesus’ arrest is not some accident, some failure of planning or momentary lapse of reason. The human authorities are not in charge here. They might think they are… but, in the end, ‘it must happen in this way.’
And we’ll praise God forever that it did.
Faithful Lord, thank you that you gave up your freedom that we might be freed. You gave up your reputation that we might be restored. You gave up your power that we might be empowered. We can never thank you enough. May your peace-filled love overflow in our hearts today. Amen.
Wednesday 1st April – Matthew 26:36-46 ‘Not as I will’
The will – it’s a strange and slightly mysterious thing, isn’t it? We first start to see it when a child is just a few months old, newly weaned – turning their nose up at one mouthful of food only to embrace another.
Wills famously start to assert themselves strongly as toddlers. The battles all of us parents will remember! Usually over little things, but nonetheless important, as ultimately it’s about who’s in charge. And this sense of the will lives on in those who are described as ‘strong-willed’, which is often a euphemism for people who like to get their own way!
The will is a statement not just of authority but of intent. When couples get married they don’t say ‘I do’ (sorry to disappoint you), but ‘I will’. Even our last wishes are declared by – you guessed it – a will.
Wills matter. The great spiritual writer Watchman Nee defined the soul as the combination of the mind, the emotions and the will. It differs from the other two precisely because it defines where (and to whom) our gaze is directed. If the mind gives us the what and why, and the emotions the how, the will focuses us on the where and to whom. In matters of life and faith, whose will prevails?
All of which leads perfectly onto the heart of this passage today. Here we see two battles of the will, both within a person or people. For the disciples, the tussle is relatively straightforward: their spiritual desire to support their friend Jesus versus their physical desire to sleep on a warm, dark evening after a large meal.
For Jesus, the battle is much more intense, life (and death) defining even. Jesus’ destiny hangs in the balance: he knows what lies ahead, and he faces the ultimate test of the will: his own, human will to avoid it, clashing with what he knows his Father’s will to be.
The struggle is immense: he describes himself to his friends as ‘overwhelmed with sorrow’; in Luke’s account, his anguish is so intense it bursts blood vessels near the skin surface, so he literally sweats blood. Whose will will prevail?
As we observed earlier, it all comes down to authority and intent. Ultimately Jesus was completely obedient to one authority, and one alone – his Father’s. And this determined his intention. After hours of wrestling, he comes to the earth-shattering, earth-changing decision: ‘Yet not as I will, but as you will.’ Nine words which change the universe, the course of history, the future of humanity.
The contrast with the disciples is so stark, it’s almost tragically funny. Jesus wrestles for his life while they wrestle with their eyelids. How like us! How wonderful, then, to know that our future rests in Jesus’ perfect obedience rather than ours.
And may that hope of a secure future, thanks to Jesus’ costly obedience, also give us inspiration and courage to surrender to God’s will in the little – and not-so-little – callings of our lives.
Courageous God, I am in awe of your obedience. Thank you, thank you that you said ‘Not as I will.’ Help me to will as you will, because I know that you are good. Amen.
Tuesday 31st March – Matthew 26:17-35 ‘All fall away’
The journey of Jesus through Holy Week is, among many things, a journey from crowds to loneliness. The great throng of Palm Sunday becomes the large crowd in the temple; then the smaller gathering at Bethany, moving on to the Last Supper with his disciples; then just Peter, James and John in Gethsemane, until finally Jesus is arrested and is completely alone. Listeners left, followers gone, friends fled.
The narrative becomes more intense, claustrophobic. Today Jesus prepares to ‘celebrate’ the Passover (v18), then at the celebration itself talks of betrayal (v21) and his own shed blood (v28). He finishes the meal with an evening walk where he finally comes clean: ‘this very night you will all fall away on account of me.’ (v31)
It is a stark and sobering admission, and not surprisingly his friends, buoyed not just by wine and conversation, but an evening reflecting on God’s sovereign activity in history, don’t agree. A tight-knit huddle, they’ve weathered all storms – literal and spiritual – for three years. They’re just not the ‘falling away’ types – especially not gung-ho, have-a-go Peter. ‘Even if all fall away, I never will.’
We all know what happens next, and we’ll reflect some more on it over the coming days. But I’m always struck by the disconnect between words and deeds. Between brave declarations, and craven response. Between intention and action. ‘The Spirit is willing’ – it usually is – ‘but the flesh is weak.’
And as we gaze back at these iconic scenes with 2,000 years’ perspective – two millennia of knowledge and experience – it strikes me that the only honest response is simply this: there but for the grace of God go I. Go any of us. The disciples are just like us: true of heart and easily scattered. How many times has the rooster crowed for each of us?
And yet… and yet…. Jesus is still Jesus. Still full of compassion and mercy, still slow to anger and of great goodness. Still able to welcome us back with our blushing, tear-stained cheeks. And in this famous meal he gives us, this simple but glorious act of remembrance, we are able each time to acknowledge our weakness, and praise his strength; to lament our faithlessness and rejoice in his faithfulness; to receive mercy and forgiveness again. Every time we eat this bread and drink this cup, we proclaim the Lord’s saving death until he comes.
Even as they gather to celebrate the Passover, Jesus knows they will all desert him within hours – and yet he gives them this wonderful sign of his love anyway. That is grace – and it is grace we remember today. As the old hymn puts it so well: ‘When Satan tempts me to despair, and tells me of the guilt within: upwards I look and see him there, who made an end of all my sin.’ Amen, thank you Jesus.
Loving Lord, there but for your grace I would have gone so many times. Thank you for your mercy and love. Make my weak knees strong, and stand by my side always. Amen.
Monday 30th March – Matthew 26:1-16 ‘Extravagant love’
In our church, we’re blessed to be able to worship in a beautiful, inspiring building. Despite being made with wooden scaffolds, rudimentary tools and makeshift mortar, it has stood for hundreds of years, and is likely to for hundreds more. Most of us sucked in our breath and felt a sense of thrill when we first stepped inside it. Many of us do even now. Imagine what it must have been like for the mediaeval peasant folk who lived around it in timber dwellings? Imagine the awe, the sense of glory and mystery – all pointing to the great God in whose name it was built.
The church is really the people, of course it is – and we must beware idolatry of bricks and mortar. But all the same, a glorious building not only inspires worship, but represents an act of worship in itself. It’s not often that we think of the cost of building it. How on earth does a poor agrarian subsistence economy finance such luxury? What did it cost each peasant family to pay their taxes over decades to see it built? Yes, it certainly provided much needed employment and a focus for the identity of the village – but I wonder how many times a family went hungry or made some other sacrifice to see it built? What poverty might have been alleviated if the money hadn’t been spent on a building at least ten times larger than anything around it, whose sole purpose was for worship?
When we start to ask these questions, we get to the heart of today’s famous but unsettling story. We love the image of the woman anointing Jesus’ head with this very expensive perfume, but many of us no doubt share the disciples’ sentiments. Jesus had just challenged the financial corruption of the temple officials, and yet here he was a few days later, apparently condoning an act of wasteful, reckless extravagance. Surely there are better ways to spend money wisely?
But Jesus is having none of it. Yes, we should always care for those who need it, as Jesus advises – but he also reminds us that the first and primary object of our attention is Jesus himself. Jesus’ own love for us is extravagant, reckless even – the end of this week proves it, beyond a shadow of a doubt – and so, too, he commends extravagant love returned. This woman’s costly worship, done for no other reason than to demonstrate her adoration of her Lord, is ‘a beautiful thing’.
The woman could never have known that Jesus’ prediction would come true: ‘wherever the gospel is preached throughout the world, what she has done will also be told, in memory of her.’ Just as the poor mediaeval families who made sacrifices for decades to pay for and build our church building could never have known that 700 or 800 years later, people would still be gasping as they enter, people would still be offering their worship to God with hearts and hands raised in adoration – that their offering of extravagant love would remain powerful, inspiring, enduring. It is a beautiful thing.
As Holy Week begins, take time to reflect on the reckless, extravagant love of God for you – yes, you! The love that led to extraordinary sacrifice. Let’s acknowledge that too often we become people who know ‘the price of everything and the value of nothing.’ Let’s recommit ourselves to extravagant worship, reflecting the wild, reckless love of our Creator. It is a beautiful thing.
Loving Jesus, thank you for your extravagant love for me. My love for you so often has limits. Help me to love you as you love me. Open my eyes to see what the woman at Bethany saw. Thank you. Amen.
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