Sermon Blog 2025

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.