Sermon Blog 2025

As we celebrate Harvest, our hearts naturally turn to gratitude for God's abundant provision – the food that nourishes our bodies and the countless blessings poured out upon us. It's a time to remember that both our physical and spiritual sustenance ultimately come from God.

Our Gospel reading from John 6:25-35 often features in harvest services, and it follows the miraculous feeding of the 5,000. Imagine that scene: a vast, hungry crowd, their physical needs met by just five loaves and two fish. Yet, when they sought Jesus out again, He discerned their true motivation. They were still focused on the physical, on another "fix" of bread and fish, much like their ancestors desired manna in the wilderness.

But Jesus offers something far greater: "Do not work for food that spoils," He says, "but for food that endures to eternal life." The crowd, still thinking of human effort, asked, "What must we do to do the works that God requires?" Their minds were on earning God's favour, but eternal life is a gift, not something we achieve through our own works. As Ephesians 2 reminds us, "For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith – and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God – not by works."

Jesus contrasts the physical manna with Himself, the true "bread of God that comes down from heaven and gives life to the world." He declares, "I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never go hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty."

At our Harvest service in Denver, we also celebrated a baptism. This powerfully resonates with Jesus' message. In baptism, we witness new life in Christ – a spiritual harvest. We are washed clean, reborn, and renewed by the Holy Spirit, receiving the gift of eternal life that Jesus offers. Baptism is a visible sign of an invisible grace, a public declaration of faith in the one who is the Bread of Life.

So, as we give thanks for the physical harvest, let us also remember the spiritual nourishment Jesus offers. "What must we do to do the works that God requires?" – "Believe in the one he has sent." Let this be our harvest today. Amen.

The familiar passage of Jesus clearing the temple courts in Jerusalem is a powerful story. He arrived for Passover, expecting a place of worship, but found a bustling market. Sheep, cattle, doves – all being bought and sold for sacrifice. More than that, money changers were turning a sacred space into a commercial enterprise.

Sacrifices were a norm under Jewish law, so Jesus' anger probably wasn't directed at that practice itself. Therefore, we might assume it was the commercialism that had overtaken his Father's house that was the issue. This act of overturning tables and clearing the temple was a cleansing, symbolic restoration to its true purpose: a place of worship.

The religious authorities, however, missed the deeper meaning. They demanded a sign, proof of his authority. Jesus' cryptic response – "Destroy this temple, and I will raise it again in three days" – was misunderstood as a literal reference to the physical building. But he spoke of his own body, foreshadowing his impending death and resurrection. His sacrifice, not animal offerings, would be the true path to reconciliation with God.

This cleansing of the temple serves as a powerful metaphor for our own lives. Our hearts, too, can become cluttered with distractions and worldly concerns, hindering our connection with Jesus. So let us reflect on what might be distracting us from our spiritual path. Just as Jesus cleansed the physical temple, we must strive to cleanse our hearts, removing anything that prevents us from truly experiencing God's presence. Seek guidance and strength from Jesus, allowing him to cleanse our hearts and guide us towards a deeper, more meaningful relationship with our Father. This is my prayer for you all.

In recent weeks, I've been exploring the theme of stewardship and giving within our churches, a topic that, while sometimes uncomfortable, is profoundly central to our faith. This isn't just about financial contributions; it's about recognizing that everything we have—our possessions, talents, and time—ultimately belongs to God. True security and joy are found in trusting God with all that we do.

Giving and stewardship are not merely responses to immediate needs, but rather an intrinsic part of our nature as Christians. However, many churches today face significant financial challenges. There's a common misconception that church funds are solely for maintaining buildings. Yet, the Church of England's governing document defines the principal function of a church as "promoting in the parish the whole mission of the Church." Mission, not just buildings, is the defining purpose. Our buildings are a base, but the mission extends far beyond the four walls.

So, why is this important subject often overlooked? Perhaps it's cultural—money is often seen as a private matter. Or maybe it's fear: fear of alienating people, fear of giving the wrong impression, or fear of hurting people, especially in challenging economic times. While these feelings are understandable, avoiding the conversation can hinder a crucial aspect of our spiritual lives.

I believe many churches misunderstand how to approach giving. We've all seen the stark "It costs £3,000 a week to run this church - please give" signs. How much more impactful would it be to say, "This Church spends £3,000 a week on God’s ministry within this parish and the wider world - would you like to consider contributing to this ministry?" 

Jesus' own focus wasn't on fundraising for a new synagogue roof, but on faith raising and spiritual growth. As Paul reminds us in 2 Corinthians, "whoever sows generously will reap generously." This is part of God's economy: we are blessed so we bless, and when we bless we are blessed in return - and never ending cycle of blessings.

What makes a joyful giver? We are made in God's image, and He gives abundantly and without reluctance. Our worship, including our giving, should reflect this.

Being a steward means being in charge of what belongs to someone else. When we embrace the view that everything we have belongs to God, our approach to stewardship becomes transformative and liberating. This perspective allows us to act with greater faith and take more risks. And how do we increase our faith? While Bible study, prayer, and worship are vital, trusting God through our stewardship is also a key part of that equation, both as individuals and as a church community.

The word "tithe" can be divisive, and there's debate about its biblical meaning. Historically, it referred to giving a tenth of one's produce or earnings, with examples from Abraham, Jacob, and God's commands in Leviticus. While the Old Testament tithe often focused on the first fruits, the New Covenant offers a different approach. Paul, in 1 Corinthians, encourages us to set aside a sum of money each week in keeping with our income. This is why we encourage regular, planned giving, like Parish Giving.

This sermon wasn’t meant to be a guilt trip. It's an invitation for us all to prayerfully review our giving and stewardship. Yes, running a church has fixed costs: insurance, maintenance, heating, and parish share. But these are just the foundations for our true purpose: "promoting the whole mission of the Church in the parish."

To those of you who already contribute so faithfully to the work of this church, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I recognise the sacrifices many of you are already making. But let us all, as members of this church, reflect on our call to be joyful givers and faithful stewards in all that we do. May this truly be a testament to our faith.

Today, we reflect on two profound parables from Luke 15: the lost sheep and the lost coin. These aren't just quaint stories we heard as children; they are radical revelations about the very heart of God, challenging our perceptions of who is truly lost and who God actively seeks.

Jesus told these parables to a crowd that included tax collectors and sinners – those society deemed undesirable. The Pharisees grumbled, disapproving of Jesus's welcoming embrace. But Jesus turns their notions of righteousness upside down. He highlights a God who doesn't wait for the lost to come crawling back, but actively goes out in search of them.

Consider the shepherd leaving the ninety-nine safe sheep to find the one that strayed. And the woman who meticulously sweeps her house, lighting a lamp and stirring up dust, until her precious coin is found. In both cases, the finding is met with immense, communal rejoicing. Jesus explicitly states that this is what happens in heaven when one sinner repents – more joy than over ninety-nine righteous people who see no need for repentance.

This challenges our own mission. Do we only rejoice over those already within our church walls? Or are we, like God, compelled to join the search for the lost? The parable of the lost coin, in particular, offers deeper insight. The lamp, God’s Word, illuminates our path as we search. And the sweeping away of dust? Perhaps it signifies a cleansing process, a move from spiritual death to new life as God actively seeks and cleanses the lost.

Whether we are the lost coin needing to be found, or called to be partners with God in seeking the lost, the message is clear: God's love extends to all, and there is unparalleled joy in heaven when the lost are found and repent. Let this motivate us within the Ouse Valley Benefice, to share this good news beyond our church buildings, bringing others into a living relationship with Christ and sharing in that heavenly rejoicing.

It’s so easy to feel overburdened by everything that might be going on around us. We may be suffering from ill health, loneliness or grief. All times when we may feel that we are carrying the weight of the world on our shoulders.

But what Jesus is saying is that no matter how heavy our yoke might be - no matter how heavy our burdens are - we can come to him and he will give us rest. In fact what he is doing is inviting us to take his yoke in exchange for ours. He is willing to carry all of our burdens whilst we carry his - for his yoke is easy and his burden is light.

But whilst that offer is available to us all, we have the responsibility to accept the exchange. The invitation is there - ‘Come to me - and I will give you rest’. It’s an invitation followed by a promise. We are making the active decision to come before Jesus. And we are acknowledging that we cannot do this on our own. And it is through our acceptance of that invitation that Jesus carries out that promise of giving us rest.

He knows our weaknesses and he knows our struggles and he is prepared to take them from us. So I want to invite you to pause in silence and come before the feet of Jesus and accept that invitation. Maybe just close your eyes as you imagine the scene. You might be weighed down by your yoke - a yoke you can no longer carry. But Jesus is here and he offers you his yoke in exchange. He takes your heavy yoke, the one that is weighing you down, whilst you take his which is easy and light and which gives you rest for your souls.

This is what prayer is about. We are opening up our hearts to Jesus; and we are letting him know what it is that is weighing us down. And through this we are inviting him to share our burdens.

And this is what the Bible helps to teach us. For the Bible is full of God's promises of love and grace. And the Bible reminds us that we are not alone in our struggles and that God is with us and he will never forsake us.

So in the silence, bring your burdens to Jesus and accept the offer that Jesus has for you all.

For this week's sermon blog I thought I would share a few words on what a preacher said about Habakkuk 2 in his sermon at a church I was visiting last week...

In a world filled with endless notifications and constant demands, where do you find your place to stop and listen for God's reply? Habakkuk was a man who had big questions to ask of God. He stood, not just complaining to God, but waiting and listening.

How often do we fire off our thoughts to God, only to rush onto the next thing? Do we ever take the time to truly pause to listen for his reply? Habakkuk teaches us to stop, to position ourselves like a watchman, and to make space for the possibility that God might want to speak to us. This isn't about physical towers, but about carving out moments in our everyday lives where the volume of everything else drops, and his voice has room to be heard.

The church I visited had sensed God saying that he was going to breathe on them, on their church, and on their town – to bring life to dry places. The preacher went onto say that they were in waiting - holding on to that promise, not yet fulfilled, waiting for the first signs of his breath. 

The challenge in this long wait is learning to live by faith, holding our position even when everything in us wants to abandon the post. It’s about believing that if God has spoken, then his promise will arise when he wants it to.

The long wait isn't wasted time; it's a refining time. It's where God works on us before he works through us. Think of the disciples waiting for the Holy Spirit - they praised, worshipped, and stayed together. That churches call in this season, and perhaps ours, is the same: to keep climbing the watchtower in prayer and worship, making space for God to move. When his breath comes, may we be found on the wall, ready to feel it on our faces, still enough to know it is him.

Luke 12.32-40 offers a profound call to active stewardship, a theme I've been exploring in our churches. It's a subject often shied away from, but vitally important.

Jesus tells us, “You must be ready, because the Son of Man will come at an hour when you do not expect him.” While this speaks to His glorious return and faithful discipleship, what does that readiness entail, especially in terms of stewardship?

The passage challenges us: “Sell your possessions and give to the poor.” This isn't necessarily a call to absolute poverty, but rather to a radical generosity, detaching ourselves from materialism and prioritising God’s kingdom. It’s about recognising that everything we have is God’s; we are merely sharing what is already His. When we have access to God's Kingdom, our earthly treasures become insignificant in comparison.

But stewardship is more than just money. It’s about being generous with our gifts, talents, and time, always with the right motives. It’s about trusting in God’s provision, investing in the eternal rather than the temporary. This is God’s economy: we are blessed, so we give; we give, we are blessed. The cycle continues.

“Be dressed ready for service and keep your lamps burning.” Keeping our lamps burning takes effort, immersing ourselves in God’s word, which is the light for our path. This active preparation is what keeps us ready for whatever comes, and fundamentally, for His return.

When He returns, a reversal of roles awaits: Jesus will serve us. But we are called not to passive waiting, but to active discipleship, and that includes our stewardship. So, I ask you: Are you ready? Are you living with your lamps burning, eager for His return, and actively seeking to transform our communities through faithful stewardship? Let this be part of our readiness today.

The Parable of the Rich Fool from Luke 12.13-21, offers a powerful and perhaps unsettling challenge to our modern sensibilities. Jesus isn’t saying that all wealthy people are fools, nor am I here to judge anyone’s financial standing. Instead, this parable invites us to deeply examine our understanding of “richness” and, crucially, where we place our ultimate security.

The parable begins with a demand for individual justice – a man wanting his inheritance divided. Jesus, however, doesn't get drawn into a legal dispute. He sees straight to the heart of the matter: greed. "Watch out!", he warns, "Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; life does not consist in an abundance of possessions.”

The rich fool in the story is a prudent businessman by worldly standards. He has an abundant harvest and plans to build bigger barns to store his surplus. Maybe he envisions a comfortable retirement, secure in his material wealth. Yet, God’s response is stark: "You fool! This very night your life will be demanded from you. Then who will get what you have prepared for yourself?”

This isn't about condemning financial planning. It's about revealing a life consumed by self-focus, a life lived without gratitude to God, and a life neglecting eternity. The rich fool focused entirely on the here and now, accumulating for himself, rather than being ‘rich towards God’.

As Christians, we are called to a different kind of wealth. Matthew 6 reminds us: "Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth…but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven. For where your treasure is, there your heart will also be."

This parable directly challenges our materialistic culture and the ‘it’s all about me’ philosophy. It prompts us to ask: How often do we prioritise ourselves over God? How often do we focus solely on the present, forgetting the eternal?

This leads us to the vital concept of Christian stewardship – how we use our resources: our money, our time, our gifts, and our talents. It’s about being accountable to God for all that He has given us. 

So, both individually and collectively, what are we truly seeking security in? Are we, like the rich fool, accumulating solely for ourselves, living isolated lives, and neglecting eternity? Or are we striving to be a generous people, caring for others, and living with a constant awareness of God’s kingdom? Let us examine our hearts and ask: "Where is our treasure?"

This past Sunday, we delved into a profound question posed to Jesus by his disciples: "Lord, teach us to pray." It’s striking, isn’t it? These individuals had witnessed Jesus in deep prayer countless times, yet they still felt the need for guidance. His response, the very prayer we know as the Lord's Prayer, is not merely a set of words to be recited by rote, but a powerful model for how we should approach God.

We often recite the Lord’s Prayer in our liturgy, and it’s a beautiful tradition. But Jesus also offered it as a framework, a guide for our hearts and minds. Prayer, as we explored, is far more than just words spoken from our mouths; it's a heartfelt outpouring in the power of the Spirit.

Consider the opening lines: "Our Father, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come." These phrases immediately direct our focus to God's glory. When we say "Our Father," we acknowledge His attributes as our heavenly Father. "Hallowed be your name" speaks to His holiness and essence, a call to honor Him in our lives and in our world. And "Your kingdom come" is a powerful prayer for God's sovereign rule to expand, a call for more people to enter into a personal relationship with Jesus. We, as part of His kingdom, are called to be part of the answer to this prayer through our acts of faith and outreach.

The Lord's Prayer beautifully blueprints our communication with God, addressing our material, spiritual, and moral needs, all while underscoring our complete reliance on Him. It's a reminder that even when we struggle to find the right words, God is listening, and His Spirit intercedes for us. So, how do we pray? We pray like this – with intention, with heart, and with an understanding that prayer is a profound connection, not just a recitation.

This past Sunday, we delved into the familiar story of Mary and Martha from Luke 10.38-42, a passage that often sparks discussion about devotion versus service. However, I believe Jesus's interaction with Martha wasn't a condemnation of her hospitality, but rather a gentle redirection of her worries and distractions.

Martha was busy preparing, a beautiful act of hospitality, a form of service. Mary, on the other hand, chose to sit at Jesus' feet, listening intently. This posture, traditionally reserved for male students, highlights Jesus' counter-cultural approach, affirming the equal importance of women in faith and learning.

Jesus's response to Martha – "Martha, Martha. You are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed - or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her” – isn't so much a dismissal of service. Instead, it’s a reminder that service, devoid of nourishment from God's word, can lead to anxiety and a loss of joy. Both Mary and Martha were serving, but Mary’s choice to prioritise listening allowed her to be truly present.

This passage is not about choosing between devotion and service, but about finding the vital balance between them. We live in a fast-paced world, and it's easy to get caught up in busyness. But when that busyness pushes aside worship, prayer, and time with God, we risk becoming like Martha, distracted and worried.

Our call to service is paramount, but it must be rooted in our relationship with God. This balance allows all our actions to be infused with love and joy. So, as we reflect on Mary and Martha, let us ask ourselves: How can we find our unique balance, ensuring our service flows from a place of deep nourishment in God's presence? This integration of devotion and action is key to building up the body of Christ and reaching out to the world.

Our recent baptism service in Southery, focusing on Luke 10:25-37, offered a reflection on the timeless parable of the Good Samaritan. It began with an expert in the law attempting to test Jesus, asking, "What must I do to inherit eternal life?" Jesus, in turn, asked him to recall what was written in the law and how he read it. The expert correctly responded, "Love the Lord your God with all your heart… and love your neighbour as yourself."

However, the expert wasn't finished. He then pressed Jesus with a seemingly simple question that held immense implications: "But who is my neighbour?" This query was in many ways about defining who wasn't deserving of love by limiting the scope of one's compassion.

The story of the priest, the Levite, and the Samaritan beautifully illustrates this. While the respected religious figures passed by the injured man, it was the Samaritan who showed extraordinary mercy. He didn't just feel pity; he took action, offering immediate care and even long-term support. Jesus flipped societal expectations, demonstrating that true neighbourliness transcends cultural, political, and religious divides.

This message is transformative. As we noted in the baptism liturgy, we are called to "serve our neighbour after the example of Christ." Baptism isn't merely a ritual; it's a spiritual commitment to a new life, empowered by the Holy Spirit, focused on glorifying God through selfless love. It’s a reminder of our collective responsibility to reach out to those who suffer with compassion and mercy.

So, let us all renew our commitment to this call. With God's help, let's ‘go and do likewise’, seeing need, being moved to action, overcoming differences, and tirelessly showing God's love to all. May we all strive to be the Good Samaritan today. Amen.

Today's gospel, "Jesus sends out the seventy-two", offers a timeless model for our mission. For many, "mission" sounds daunting, but it's simply about helping people connect with Christ. This leads us to a challenge - if our church activities don't align with this, then maybe it's time for reflection.

But what is mission? Mission is encapsulated in the five marks of mission: proclaim the Good News of the Kingdom; teach, baptise and nurture new believers; respond to human need by loving service; transform unjust structures in society; and striving to safeguard the integrity of creation. Or, more simply, the five T’s: Tell, Teach, Tend, Transform, and Treasure. 

Preparation for mission is vital. A mission in Littleport this October, for instance, has been 12-18 months in the making with local churches. Perhaps the Ouse Valley Benefice could one day undertake a similar venture! 

At its heart, mission is about introducing people to Jesus. Simple acts - a handshake, a warm welcome - are powerful expressions of this, preparing hearts for God.

Crucially, mission begins and is sustained by prayer. Jesus said, "The harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few. Ask the Lord of the harvest, therefore, to send out workers into his harvest field." This is God's harvest, God's church; we are merely here to prepare the way.

Mission success isn't just about numbers. It's about spiritual growth - transformed lives, deeper faith, and the outward expression of God's love. Yes numerical growth may follow spiritual growth but should not necessarily be our focus.

Mission can be challenging; Jesus warned of "lambs among wolves." But we're not alone. We go in the power of the Holy Spirit, with Jesus as our shepherd. Focused attention is key, and while rejection may occur, we remain confident in God's calling.

The mission Jesus began continues today, and we are all part of it. Let us pray for courage to share the good news and be instruments of God's peace, returning with joy from the mission field. Amen.

In our faith journeys, we often grapple with what truly matters. Is it scripture, our lived experiences, our reasoning, or the traditions we've inherited? The truth is, all of these play a part in shaping our beliefs. As theologians sometimes say, there's a "REST" to what we believe: Reasoning, Experience, Scripture, and Tradition. Each offers valuable insights, yet their emphasis can vary. For some, scripture is paramount; for others, the rituals and practices of the church hold sway.

Paul, in his letter to the Galatians, confronted an issue where Jewish converts insisted that new Gentile believers adopt practices like circumcision – traditions Paul deemed unnecessary for salvation, a false gospel.

While our contemporary church life differs, the lesson remains: what's important to us individually or within our church traditions isn't the final word when it comes to expectations we impose on others. Our traditions can be deeply meaningful, sustaining our faith and connection with God. However, they can also become a barrier to others who are seeking an encounter with God.

For Paul, in his message to the Galations, the core message was clear: justification comes not from works or adherence to religious rules, but from faith in Christ. The Old Testament law, while a guardian, ultimately held people captive. Christ's coming brought freedom, transforming us from children under the law to adults clothed in Christ.

This new identity unites us: "There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus." Our differences persist, but in Christ, they no longer create division. We are heirs of God's promise to Abraham, justified by faith, not by deeds.

So, while our traditions differ from the law Paul addressed, the principle remains. In a changing culture, we must be willing to engage with those exploring faith in new ways, complementing our traditions to share the liberating identity we have in Christ. Our ultimate goal is to welcome everyone to experience God's promise through faith and grace, and not through works.

Revd Nigel never preached a sermon last Sunday, so here is the blog article from Trinity Sunday last year.

Today, I want to share a few thoughts on the Trinity, a concept that has intrigued theologians for centuries. It's a complex idea, but one that's foundational to our Christian faith.

Why does the Trinity matter? It matters because the Gospel matters. The Trinity—God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit—is at the heart of who God is and how He interacts with us.

Some people try to explain the Trinity using analogies like water, ice, and steam, or the shell, yolk, and white of an egg. While these analogies can be helpful to a point, they ultimately fall short. The Trinity isn't about different forms or parts of God; it's about three distinct persons in one divine being, existing eternally and simultaneously.

Jesus Himself spoke of the Trinity when He said, "Go and make disciples of all nations, baptising them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit" (Matthew 28:19). This command shows that the Trinity isn't an abstract theological concept, but a living reality that we're called to share with the world.

As we reflect on the Trinity, let's remember that each person of the Godhead plays a vital role in our lives. God the Father is our Creator, the source of all life and love. God the Son, Jesus Christ, is our Saviour, who died for our sins and offers us eternal life. And God the Holy Spirit is our Comforter and Guide, empowering us to live for Christ and fulfil His will.

This week, I encourage you to take some time to meditate on the Trinity. As you pray and worship, focus on your relationship with each person of the Godhead. Thank God the Father for His love and provision. Praise Jesus for His sacrifice and grace. And seek the Holy Spirit's guidance and strength.

May the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you all. Amen.

In these days between Ascension and Pentecost, we are called to a special time of prayer known as "Thy Kingdom Come." It’s a global movement, inviting us to ask God to move in the hearts of those around us, so that they may come to know Jesus. This isn’t just about reciting words; it’s about a heartfelt cry for God’s reign to manifest here on earth.

Think of the Lord’s Prayer - "Thy Kingdom Come." We say it, perhaps often, but do we grasp its depth? We’re asking for God's influence, justice, peace, and love to permeate our world and our lives. It's a prayer for transformation, starting with us and rippling out to our communities.

In John 17, we see Jesus himself praying - not a liturgical recitation, but a genuine outpouring of his heart. He prays for his disciples and for all who will believe in him through their message - that’s us! And what does he pray for? Unity. "That all may be one." A unity modelled on the love within the Trinity itself.

This unity isn't just a nice idea; it's a powerful witness. Jesus prays for it so that the world will know that God sent him. In a world often fractured, this unity is a beacon of hope, showing the reality of God’s love.

This week, consider: Could you pray for 5 people? What specific prayers will you offer for them? And why? Let us join Jesus in this prayer for unity, and as we pray, let us be part of bringing healing to our world. "Thy Kingdom Come" - let it begin with us.

This week's sermon snippet is based on Mary's sermon that she preached Crimplesham and Denver.

I don't think you would have wanted to swim in the pool of Bethesda. It probably wasn't quite as dark, dank and depressing as the pools I saw in Bath when I visited many years ago. Here there were colonnades which would let the breezes in, and perhaps even sunshine; but it was by our standards, dirty and unhygienic. 

The Romans were clever engineers with their roads and aqueducts, but they didn't have the chemicals for water treatment; you couldn’t see the bottom, or any hazards that might be concealed there. But it was better cared for than the neglected pools I saw in Bath. 

It had been built around with places to sit and lie, because it was a place of healing, a place of hope. A man was lying there, hoping, but alone. He had been ill for 38 years, but he had no relative or friend to help him into the pool. Perhaps Jesus would help him?

“Do you want to be healed?”: Jesus’ question is startling, unexpected. Of course he wants to be healed, otherwise, what is he doing here? It would involve a deep change in his life, more responsibility, more decisions. Will Jesus help him into the water? No! Jesus has something bigger, something better in mind. All that is needed from the man is his obedience. “Take up your mat and walk” - and he does!

The audience for whom this story is written would not be so interested in the setting, the background details. There is one question in their minds, above all others - ‘What’s the point?’

Jesus seems to have chosen the wrong day. The last words of the reading are the key - ‘That day was the Sabbath’. The Jewish authorities discovered that Jesus was responsible for this miracle, and that once again He was challenging their interpretation of God's rules, and ‘this was why the Jews persecuted Jesus, because he did this on the sabbath’, the day of rest. (verse 16).

However, there is no wrong day to relieve human misery. Jesus is telling us that compassion is more important than the Sabbath. He is revealing a God who acts for human good - even on the Sabbath. Jesus acts, and we see grace, radical grace.

In our recent reflection on John 13.31-35, we focused on Jesus's powerful instruction to his disciples: "Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another." This, as we explored, isn't merely a suggestion but a cornerstone of our faith. It’s how the world recognises us as followers of Christ.

But what does this love entail? It's more than a fleeting feeling. It's manifested in action and in the way we treat others. It’s about extending compassion, offering forgiveness, and willingly serving one another. Jesus set the ultimate example; his love was profound, selfless, and sacrificial. He demonstrated this love not only through his words but through his actions, ultimately laying down his life.

Within our church communities, this commandment holds particular significance. It calls us to show kindness to those we might not naturally connect with, to uplift those who are struggling, and to cultivate an environment of acceptance and understanding. It’s easy to love those who are like us, but Jesus challenges us to love beyond our comfort zones - to love unconditionally, as he loved.

Living out this new commandment is not just about adhering to Jesus’s teachings. It’s about bearing witness to the transformative power of God’s love. Our love for one another serves as a powerful testament to the world, illuminating who Jesus is and what he represents. Let us, therefore, commit ourselves anew to living out this commandment, allowing Christ’s love to shine through all that we do.

As we navigate through our season of APCMs, the passage from John 10:22-30 resonates deeply with us all. Set during the Feast of Dedication, a winter scene in Jerusalem, we find Jesus facing persistent questioning: "If you are the Messiah, tell us plainly."

We often seek definitive answers and tangible proof. Yet Jesus responds by pointing to his works and his actions as testimony. "I did tell you," he says, "but you do not believe." He then shifts focus to his relationship with his followers: "My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me."

This image of Jesus as the Good Shepherd is powerful. It's not one of distance or detachment. He knows us intimately. He calls us by name. And most importantly, his sheep recognize his voice. Are we listening for that voice amidst the noise of the world? Are we actively seeking his guidance in our daily lives?

This passage reminds us that being Christ's sheep requires discernment and obedience. We are called to engage with scripture, to recognize his voice in God's word. And our obedience stems from adhering to that word. As we navigate life's decisions, big and small, we must ask ourselves: are we truly listening for the Shepherd's voice? Are we following his lead?

Just as Jesus and the Father are one, we are called to unity, to a shared purpose. May we approach our interactions with grace, humility, and a collective desire to serve as one flock, guided by the voice of our Good Shepherd.

Recently, we explored John 2.1-19 - a powerful passage where Jesus appears to his disciples after the resurrection. We find them fishing, perhaps returning to old routines, when Jesus poses a simple yet profound question to Peter: "Do you love me?"

This isn't a one-time query; Jesus asks it three times. This repetition echoes Peter's three denials of Jesus before the crucifixion, offering him a chance for public reaffirmation and healing. But there's more. The Greek language reveals nuances lost in the English translation. Jesus first uses ‘agapaō’, a divine, self-sacrificial love. Peter responds with ‘phileō’, the love of friendship and affection. This pattern is repeated for the second question.

But in his final question, Jesus himself shifts to asking about ‘phileō’. He meets Peter where he is, acknowledging his current capacity for love. This speaks volumes to us. Jesus doesn't demand perfection. He sees our weaknesses, our past failures, yet still asks, "Do you love me?" He knows we might fall short of that divine love, but he accepts our honest, heartfelt affection.

This is a message of grace. Jesus knows our hearts, our struggle, and our limitations. He doesn't require us to be perfect before we can love him. He desires our genuine, even imperfect, love. Like Peter, we may have moments of doubt and failure, but Jesus offers us the chance to affirm our love, to be healed, and to be sent out in service.

So, today, let us reflect on Jesus' question: "Do you love me?" Let us answer honestly and consider how we can show that love, whether through small acts of kindness, bold steps of faith, or simply acknowledging his presence in our lives. He meets us where we are, accepting our love and empowering us with his Spirit to love and serve in return.

Easter Sunday was a day of seismic shift. Imagine the disciples huddled together, fear gripping them, uncertainty swirling in the air. The tomb was empty, whispers of angels filled the women's stories, but disbelief lingered. Locked away, they tried to make sense of it all. Then, Jesus appears, and his first words? - “Peace be with you.”

These aren’t just empty words. Jesus offers a peace that transcends understanding, a peace that stills our anxieties and whispers reassurance. This peace isn’t just a greeting; it’s a gift, one that we’re reminded of each week in our worship.

But Jesus doesn’t stop there. He gives them a mission: “As the Father has sent me, I am sending you.” We too are sent out, not as lone rangers, but as a community empowered by the Holy Spirit. We aren’t all called to be missionaries in the traditional sense, but we are all called to bring people into a relationship with Christ, right where we are.

Think of coming to church as your launchpad for the week. We come to find peace, to seek forgiveness, and to be renewed. Then, we step out into our daily lives, carrying that peace and that mission with us. We are sent out to serve God, to be sensitive to the needs around us, and to share the good news in a way that’s understandable and accessible.

Just like Thomas, we might have doubts, we might be absent, but we too can come to belief and worship. We, too, can say, "We have seen the Lord." Let’s carry this message of peace and mission with us this week, knowing we are sent out in the power of the Spirit.

This week, we’ve been reflecting on the profound events of Easter. On Friday, we stood in the shadow of the cross, contemplating the weight of what Jesus carried for us. But Easter Sunday brings us to a different place: the empty tomb. It’s a shift from grief to gladness, from despair to hope.

Imagine the scene from Luke 24.1-12. The women, burdened with sorrow, arrive at the tomb early on that first day. Their intention is to perform a final act of love, anointing Jesus’ body with spices. They expect to find a sealed tomb, a silent reminder of their loss. Instead, they find the stone rolled away, and the tomb empty. Confusion and fear must have overwhelmed them. What had happened? Was the body stolen?

The question arises, why was the stone rolled away? Was it to let Jesus out? Perhaps not. As we consider John 20:19, where Jesus appears to the disciples despite locked doors, we realise nothing could contain Him. The stone, it seems, was rolled away not for Jesus to leave, but for others to see the truth: He had risen.

The women’s confusion turns to astonishment as two men in dazzling clothes announce, “He is not here; he has risen!” They are reminded of Jesus’ own words, His promise to rise on the third day. And then, they remember. Their sorrow transforms into a message of hope. They rush to tell the disciples, becoming the first messengers of the resurrection.

This Easter, let us remember the women’s journey from grief to gladness. Let us also be messengers of this good news, sharing the joy of the risen Christ with all we meet. Just as Peter ran to the tomb, may we all seek and find the truth of the resurrection in our own lives.

Today, as we reflect on Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem, we might picture a scene of grand victory, akin to a Roman general's parade. Garlands, shouts of praise, and a powerful leader on a war horse. But Jesus' entry was different?

He came as King, yes, but not on a war horse or chariot. Instead, he rode on a humble donkey, a symbol of humility and peace. The crowds welcomed him, laying down their coats and palm branches, shouting, "Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord." They saw him as a king, even if they didn't fully grasp what that meant.

What strikes me is how Jesus orchestrated this moment, sending his disciples to fetch the colt, knowing it would be there. It shows his power and authority over all things. And it fulfills the ancient prophecies, like Zechariah's words: "See, your king comes to you, righteous and victorious, lowly and riding on a donkey." The Old Testament concealed, the New Testament revealed.

This wasn't a victory won on the battlefield, but a victory on the cross. Jesus was heading towards suffering and towards sacrifice. Yet, this was his triumph. So as we journey through Holy Week, let us remember this different kind of triumph. Let us pause, reflect, and honour Jesus, our Saviour King. Let us acknowledge him, not just with words, but with lives of faith that are self-sacrificing and outward-looking. Let us rejoice, "Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord."

In John 12, we find a powerful moment of devotion as Mary anoints Jesus at Bethany. It’s a scene filled with rich imagery and profound meaning. Imagine being there, just days before the Passover, as Jesus shares a meal with Lazarus, Martha, and Mary. Amidst this gathering, Mary takes an extraordinary step. She pours out a jar of pure nard, an incredibly expensive perfume, onto Jesus' feet and wipes them with her hair.

This wasn't just any act; it was a lavish display of love and humility. The perfume was worth a year's wages, a significant sacrifice. In that culture, anointing feet was reserved for servants, and for a woman to let down her hair in public was unconventional. Mary's actions were a radical departure from the norm, a bold statement of her devotion to Jesus.

But this beautiful gesture was met with criticism. Judas Iscariot questioned why the perfume wasn't sold and the money given to the poor. Yet, John tells us Judas's concern wasn't genuine; he was a thief. This highlights a stark contrast between Mary's selfless love and Judas's self-interest. It reminds us to examine our own motivations. Are our actions driven by genuine care and love, or by personal gain?

Jesus defended Mary, recognising the significance of her act. He understood it as a preparation for his burial, a foreshadowing of his impending death. Mary’s act, whether consciously or not, was a prophetic gesture of love and devotion. It challenges us: what costly act of devotion is Jesus calling us to today? It might not be perfume, but perhaps a sacrifice of time, talents, or resources, offered with a heart full of love and humility. May we all be moved to extravagant acts of love for our Saviour.

This week's sermon snippet is based on Fraser's sermon that he preached at the benefice service.

This Sunday, we celebrated Mothering Sunday, a day with roots stretching back to the 16th-century custom of visiting the ‘mother church’ during Lent. It’s a day that evolved into a celebration of family and, of course, mothers. But as Fraser’s sermon explored, this day also invites us to reflect on the many facets of love and care, both human and divine.

We heard the story of Moses, a child with two mothers: Jochebed, his birth mother, who risked everything to save him, and Pharaoh’s daughter, who raised him as her own. It’s a powerful image of the lengths we go to for those we love, and the unexpected ways that love can manifest. This story reminds us that family isn’t always defined by blood, but by the bonds of care and commitment.

Then we turned to the parable of the Prodigal Son, a story of a father’s unconditional love. Despite the son’s folly, the father’s immediate response is joy and celebration. This parable illustrates a love that transcends our mistakes, a love that welcomes us home with open arms. It mirrors the love of God, a love that is giving, accepting, and forgiving.

Finally, we considered the nature of God’s love. While often depicted as a father, God’s love is beyond gender, beyond all categorisation. It’s a love that can feel like a parent’s, a friend’s, or simply a pure, genuine connection that lifts us out of our self-focused world. Let us remember that love comes from God, and in loving one another, we glimpse the divine.

In Luke 13, Jesus addresses a timeless question: why does suffering exist? Some connect tragedy with judgment, assuming those who suffer are somehow more sinful. Yet, Jesus challenges this notion. He reminds us that we all sin and that suffering isn't necessarily divine punishment. Instead, he points to a different judgment, a final judgment, and a call to repentance.

But what does repentance truly mean? Often, we focus on what we’re turning away from – our sins, our mistakes. This Lent, let’s flip repentance on its head. Instead of solely focusing on what we’re leaving behind, let’s concentrate on who we’re running towards: Jesus.

The parable of the fig tree illustrates this beautifully. The owner wants to cut down the unproductive tree, but the gardener asks for more time, offering nurture and care. This reflects God’s grace. He doesn't rush to judgment but patiently seeks our return. He gives us every opportunity to turn back to Him, to bear fruit.

Repentance isn’t just saying sorry; it’s a change of heart, a redirection of our path. It's about acknowledging our need for God and actively choosing to move closer to Him. As we approach the cross this season, let's see repentance not as a burden, but as an invitation. An invitation to run towards Jesus, to find forgiveness, and to experience true communion with Him. So, instead of asking, “Why did this happen?”, let's ask, “What does this mean for me? How can I turn back to Jesus today?”

What does it truly mean to follow Jesus? It’s a question as old as time, and one that resonates deeply in our modern lives. In Luke 14:27-33, Jesus challenges the crowds following him to consider the cost of discipleship. It's not just about showing up on Sundays or saying the right prayers. It's about a profound and life-altering commitment.

Jesus speaks of carrying the cross, a powerful symbol of sacrifice and surrender. This isn't a casual suggestion; it's a call to daily surrender to God's will, even in the face of suffering. It means putting Jesus first, above our own desires and ambitions. It's about being willing to “die to ourselves” and submitting to God’s plan for our lives.

Jesus uses two vivid examples to illustrate this point: building a tower and going to war. He emphasises the importance of counting the cost before embarking on any major endeavour. We wouldn't start a building project without knowing if we have the funds to complete it, nor would we go to war without considering the potential consequences. Similarly, we must consider the cost of discipleship before we fully commit.

This isn’t about a transactional relationship with God. It's a covenantal one, a two-way commitment. Jesus paid the ultimate price on the cross, and he asks us for our commitment in return. Are we willing to put Jesus first? Are we willing to carry our cross? Are we willing to surrender all that we have to his will?

The truth is, the cost of not being a disciple is far greater. Without discipleship, we miss out on abiding peace, true love, faith, and hope. The real cost has already been paid by Jesus. Our commitment is an investment in a life filled with these invaluable gifts. Let us examine our hearts and make a fresh commitment to pay the cost of being a disciple.

This week’s Gospel reading from Luke 13:31-35 presents us with a powerful image: Jesus as a hen, longing to gather her chicks under her wings. It's a tender picture amidst a backdrop of political intrigue and threats. Herod, referred to as a fox, seeks to deter Jesus from his path, but Jesus remains steadfast, knowing his divine timetable.

This image of the hen offers us comfort and reflection, especially during Lent. Just as a hen shelters her chicks from danger, Jesus yearns to protect us. He sees the lurking threats, the "foxes" of our lives – the anxieties, temptations, and fears that seek to scatter us. He offers us refuge, a place of safety and warmth under his wings.

Jesus then laments over Jerusalem, a city that has historically rejected God's messengers. He asks, "How often have I longed to gather your children together…yet you were not willing?" This question echoes through the ages. Are we willing to accept the protection Jesus offers? Are we willing to trust in his guidance as we journey through Lent?

Like those chicks, we may not always see the dangers around us. We may not understand the full extent of the challenges we face. But Jesus does. He sees the foxes prowling, and he extends his wings to gather us in.

This Lent, let us seek refuge under his wings. Let us allow him to guide us, protect us, and lead us closer to the cross. Let us be willing to accept his offer of safety and love, knowing that his wings are big enough for all.

In our recent sermon on Luke 4:1-13, the story of Jesus' temptation in the wilderness, one number stood out: forty. Forty days and forty nights. It's a number that resonates throughout scripture, marking periods of testing, preparation, and transformation. 

Why forty? It's not just an arbitrary number. In Genesis, it rained for forty days and forty nights, a time of judgment and cleansing, leading to a fresh start for Noah. Jonah proclaimed that Nineveh had forty days to repent and avoid judgment. Elijah journeyed for forty days to Horeb, the mountain of God. Moses spent forty days on Mount Sinai receiving the foundational laws.

Do you see the pattern? Forty often signifies a significant period where God works, tests, prepares, or offers opportunities for change. It's a time for transformation and transition. Jesus' forty days in the wilderness were a time of preparation before His earthly ministry began. He needed that breakthrough, that realisation of who He truly was: the Son of God, destined for sacrifice.

But what about forty years? The Israelites spent forty years in the wilderness, a period of shaping, nurturing, rest, learning, and renewal, preparing them for the promised land. One commentator suggests this period represents a lifetime. 

So, what about us? What breakthrough can we achieve in our own "forty days"? What realisation can we come to regarding God's plans for us? Let us use this time, whether it be Lent or another season, as a period of reflection, repentance, and renewal, drawing closer to God and allowing the Spirit to lead and empower us. Let us embrace our own "wilderness" experiences, knowing that God is working in us, preparing us for what lies ahead.

In his second letter to the Corinthians, Paul addresses challenges to his authority and pleads for unity within the church. He emphasises the importance of understanding his message and resolving disagreements. This weeks passage, 2 Corinthians 3:12-4:2, focuses on the transformative power of the New Covenant in Christ.

Paul contrasts the Old Covenant, which he describes as one that “condemns” and creates a barrier between God and people, symbolized by the veil Moses wore, with the New Covenant, which “brings righteousness” and removes that barrier. This New Covenant allows for freedom, liberty, renewal, and restoration through the Spirit.

The key message is that through Christ, the veil that obscures understanding and prevents experiencing God’s presence is removed. We are encouraged to embrace the freedom and transformation available through the Spirit and become living reflections of God’s glory.

This week, I invite you to reflect on what veils might be present in your own life. What prevents you from fully experiencing God's presence or being the person you are called to be? 

Let us all strive to “lift the veil” and embrace the freedom and transformation offered through the Spirit. May we become living reflections of God's glory in the world.

Storms. We all face them. Sometimes, they're literal, like the recent gales that battered the UK. Other times, they're the storms of life – challenges, anxieties, and fears that threaten to overwhelm us. In Luke 8:22-25, we read about Jesus and his disciples encountering a fierce storm on the Sea of Galilee. The disciples, seasoned fishermen, panicked as the waves crashed around them. Jesus, however, remained asleep, a picture of perfect peace in the midst of chaos.

This passage offers us a powerful message of hope and trust. Jesus's sleep wasn't a sign of indifference but of complete trust – in God, and perhaps even in the disciples' abilities. When they woke him, he calmed the storm with a word, demonstrating his divine power. But then, he asked them, "Where is your faith?"

That is a question for us too. When life's storms rage, where do we place our trust? Do we panic and fear the worst, or do we turn to Jesus, the calm at the center of the storm? This doesn't mean we won't experience fear or hardship. The disciples were in a genuinely dangerous situation. But it does mean that we have a source of strength and peace to draw upon.

Just as Jesus calmed the storm for the disciples, he can bring calm to our lives. When we feel overwhelmed, we can cry out to him, just as Jonah cried out to God in his distress. We can trust that he hears our prayers and that he will be with us through the storm. He may not always remove the storm itself, but he will give us the strength and peace to endure it.

So, if you're facing a storm today, remember this passage from Luke. Remember that you are not alone and that there is a source of peace and strength available to you. Trust in Jesus, and he will guide you through to the other side.

In 1 Corinthians 15, Paul tackles a question that echoes through the centuries: did the resurrection of Christ really happen? It seems unbelievable that even in the early church, just 20 years after the event, doubts had surfaced. Yet, Paul felt compelled to address it head-on. He argues that the entire Christian faith hinges on this singular, miraculous event. If Christ wasn't raised, he says, our preaching and our faith are useless.

This isn't just an ancient argument. Even today, debates persist. But for Paul, and for us, the resurrection is the bedrock of everything. It's not merely a historical footnote; it's the power source of our present hope and future glory.

Consider the implications: Christ's divinity, his sovereignty, our justification, our hope, and our own resurrection – all are intertwined with the reality of Christ's rising. As Charles Spurgeon so eloquently put it, the resurrection is "the golden thread that binds everything else together."

Without it, we're left with a story of a good man who died, but no victory over death itself. With it, we have a living Lord, a promise of our own eternal life, and the courage to face each day with hope.

This week, reflect on what the resurrection means to you. How does it shape your life, your decisions, and your understanding of God's love? Let the golden thread of resurrection weave its way through your heart and fill you with the hope of Easter.

In this week's sermon, I reflected on the Presentation of Christ in the Temple, drawing inspiration from Luke 2. The story of Simeon and Anna, who immediately recognised Jesus as the Messiah, prompts us to question whether we, too, recognise Him in our lives today. Their unwavering hope and faith serve as a reminder for us to maintain our own hope in God's promises.

I also wondered if what we saw in the temples might have been an intergenerational space. After all, as we move forward, I believe it's crucial to focus on fostering intergenerational worship within our community. This involves creating a space where people of all ages can actively participate and learn from one another, just as Jesus did in the temple among both the young and the old. We must consider what steps we can take to become a welcoming, intergenerational space where families feel at home and are encouraged to become part of our church family. 

Finally, the passage reminds us that we are free from the Old Testament Law. Jesus fulfilled the law, freeing us from its constraints. This doesn't mean we should abandon all structure and traditions, but rather that our worship should be driven by love and guided by the Holy Spirit, not by rigid rules. We must be mindful that our traditions don't become shackles that hinder our spiritual growth and the growth of God's kingdom.

Let us embrace the freedom we have in Christ, worshiping in spirit and truth, and fostering a community where all generations can come together to encounter the living Christ. 

In his letter to the Corinthians, Paul addresses the disunity in the church and the misunderstanding of spiritual gifts. His message is clear: we are one body in Christ, and each of us has been given unique gifts by the Holy Spirit to build up the church and further the kingdom of God.

Paul's message is not confined to the early church; it is relevant to us today. We each have a part to play in the body of Christ. We are called to discover our gifts, develop them, and use them for the common good. This requires us to move beyond a consumer mindset and embrace a posture of active contribution. We are not simply churchgoers; we are the church.

Spiritual gifts are not for personal glory or status. They are given to serve others and build up the body of Christ. When we use our gifts in love and unity, the church flourishes. We become a powerful witness to the world, reflecting the diversity and unity of God.

Let us embrace our gifts, encourage one another, and work towards unity in diversity. As we do so, we will become a community that embodies the love and unity of God.

Today's reading from Luke 3 recounts the pivotal moment of Jesus' baptism by John the Baptist. This event, marking a convergence of heaven and earth, holds profound significance in our Christian journey.

Jesus, though born the Son of God, lived a humble human life. Luke's Gospel doesn't dwell on his early years, but fast-forwards to John the Baptist's ministry and the subsequent baptism of Jesus. John's impactful preaching drew crowds, igniting a spiritual revival and prompting speculation about his messianic identity. However, John himself pointed to a greater figure, whose sandals he was unworthy to untie — Jesus, the Son of God.

John's baptism symbolised repentance, a turning away from sin and toward righteousness. True repentance necessitates action, not just remorse. It requires a change of heart, a restoration of our relationship with God. This is mirrored in our Eucharist, where we confess our sins before partaking in communion, signifying our return to God's grace.

John's baptism was with water, a symbol of outward cleansing. Jesus' baptism, however, is with the Holy Spirit and fire, signifying an inner transformation. God sees our hearts, not just our outward appearances.

If baptism signifies repentance, why did Jesus, the sinless one, need to be baptised? Through his baptism, Jesus took on our sins, paving the way for our redemption. As 2 Corinthians 5:21 states, "God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God."

At Jesus' baptism, the heavens opened, the Spirit descended like a dove, and God's voice proclaimed, "You are my Son, whom I love." This divine affirmation fortified Jesus for his earthly ministry and underscored the profound love at the heart of the Gospel. 

This love is available to us all. As we reflect on Jesus' baptism, may we experience a renewed infilling of the Holy Spirit, and may the words "You are my son/daughter, whom I love" resonate deeply within our hearts. 

As we step into a new year, it's natural to reflect on the past and look forward to the future. While we may have experienced highs and lows, it is crucial to remember that God's blessings are constant.

The Bible tells us that God has blessed us with every spiritual blessing in Christ. These blessings are not limited to material possessions or worldly success, but encompass a far greater reality. We are chosen to be holy and blameless before God, adopted into His family, and redeemed through the blood of Christ.

These blessings are not earned or deserved, but are freely given by God's grace. His grace is lavished upon us, poured out abundantly, and available to all. It is through this grace that we find forgiveness, redemption, and ultimately, unity with God and with each other.

As we navigate the complexities of life, it is easy to become divided and isolated. The world around us is full of conflict and division, and even within the Church, we see denominations and individuals separated by differences. However, God's desire is for unity. He calls us to be one body, united in Christ, working together to build His Kingdom.

In the new year, let us seek to be united in all that we do. Let us put aside our differences and focus on the things that we have in common. Let us remember that we are all children of God, adopted into His family and called to be holy and blameless.

As we receive God's blessings, let us respond with gratitude and obedience. Let us seek to live lives that are pleasing to Him, reflecting His love and grace to the world around us. And let us always remember that our ultimate goal is unity in Christ, where we will experience the fullness of God's blessings for all eternity.