Daniel

The Red Cross: A Reflection for Good Friday on the Elizabeth Line This morning, as I made my way to church on Good Friday, I found myself on the Elizabeth line. On the Elizabeth line, due to some of the short platforms along the route, not all the train doors open at certain stations. These doors are marked clearly with a red cross, a symbol advising passengers that the doors are closed and that they cannot exit. It struck me how powerful that symbol is. A red cross, a warning, no exit. But today, on Good Friday, we’re drawn to a different cross. A wooden cross. A bloodied cross. A red cross of another kind. That cross stood not as a warning of a closed door, but as the very means by which the way was opened. It didn’t block an exit—it became the exit. The exit from our sin, our shame, our burdens. The way out of death into life. The route from despair to hope. From guilt to grace. On the Elizabeth line, the red cross marks where you can’t go. On Calvary’s hill, the red cross marks whe...

Praise in the Valleys I’m in a season of life where I can relate to the writer of the Psalms probably more than ever before. The week began with three amazing days of retreat—three days I’m incredibly grateful to have had before the subsequent drama and pain that have followed. As I often say to people: “ You couldn’t make my life up! ” The writer of the Psalms paints a vivid picture of the highs and lows of life. There are exciting, exhilarating mountaintop moments. There are desperately painful, relentless valley-bottom moments. There are times when the Psalmist cries out to God in distress, times when they cannot see or sense God’s presence at all. And yet, throughout the Psalms, God is always present—irrespective of whether the Psalmist can see God or not. What’s more, the Psalmist remembers to give all the praise, all the glory, and all the honour to God. Today, in my devotions, I read Psalm 22. The psalm begins with such raw honesty: “ My God, my God, why have you abandoned me? I...

I Can’t, But God Can: Retreat Reflections   This week, I had the beautiful opportunity to step away from the demands of life and spend three days on retreat with London Division. If I’m honest, I wasn’t looking forward to going away—I struggled with the thought of leaving my children, stepping back from responsibilities, and being away from everything familiar. But now, looking back, I’m glad I went. An extra ‘thank you’ to my parents for making this possible by taking on childcare responsibilities. In the moments of retreat, God spoke. God reminded me of the following: I can’t, but God can. I am because God is. I must be. Stop doing so much. Start being more. These words spoke to me. I often find myself doing more, fixing more, trying harder, and carrying ‘stuff’ that isn’t mine to carry. But what if I stopped trying to do it all and simply rested in God’s presence? What if I leaned fully into who God is instead of what I can accomplish? Howard Davies penned these words: “ Higher ...