Wilderness Temptations in Ministry

/ Peter Mead / Leave a comment

Early in Mark’s Gospel, we see Jesus healing the sick, casting out demons, and teaching with authority. His reputation spreads quickly. Crowds gather. Momentum builds. Yet the very next morning, while the people of Capernaum are looking for Him, Jesus is found alone in a solitary place, praying.

That moment is revealing. When ministry seems to be “working,” Jesus withdraws into the wilderness. It reminds us that wilderness moments are not interruptions to ministry—they are often central to it.

The Gospels tell us that Jesus faced temptation in the wilderness at the outset of His ministry, but the pattern doesn’t end there. Throughout His life, Jesus repeatedly faced moments when the temptation was not overt sin but misdirected ministry—shortcuts, distortions of His calling, or alternatives to obedience.

This pattern mirrors the lived reality of ministry across time. The temptations we face often change with the seasons of life, but the wilderness remains a place where motives are tested, and hearts are revealed.

The Early Years: The Temptation to Chase Position

In the early years of ministry, the wilderness temptation often comes disguised as enthusiasm and opportunity. There is energy, idealism, and a hunger to make a difference. Like Jesus in Capernaum, things can move quickly. People respond. Doors open. Encouragement flows.

The temptation at this stage is not laziness or compromise; it is confusing fruitfulness with faithfulness.

For Jesus, staying in Capernaum would have made perfect sense. The people were receptive. The ministry was effective. Yet He resists the pull of early success, saying instead, “Let us go somewhere else—to the nearby villages—so I can preach there also. That is why I have come.”

In the early years, the wilderness temptation is to let affirmation define calling. We begin to believe that visible results are proof of divine direction. Prayer can quietly give way to activity. Dependence on God can be replaced with confidence in gifting.

The wilderness calls us back to a deeper question:
Am I pursuing what is effective—or what I am sent to do?

The Middle Years: The Temptation to Chase Power

In the middle years of ministry, the landscape shifts. Experience grows. Responsibility increases. Structures develop. With them comes influence—and often authority.

This season brings its own wilderness temptation: the temptation to control outcomes.

At this stage, ministry no longer feels fragile; it feels manageable. We’ve seen what works and what doesn’t. We know how to organise, plan, and lead. Yet it is precisely here that dependence on God can quietly erode.

Power itself is not the problem. Jesus exercised authority with clarity and compassion. The danger arises when power becomes a substitute for trust—when leadership becomes about maintaining control rather than discerning obedience.

In the wilderness, Satan offered Jesus authority without the cross—influence without surrender. Jesus refused it, choosing obedience over efficiency. The same temptation presents itself in subtler forms during the middle years of ministry: shaping vision around what we can sustain, protecting systems we’ve built, or resisting disruption because it threatens stability.

The wilderness question here becomes:
Do I trust God enough to remain open-handed—even with what I’ve built?

The Later Years: The Temptation to Chase Peace

In later years, the wilderness temptation often looks very different. The drive for impact may have faded, and the appetite for control softened. What emerges instead is a longing for peace—not the profound peace of Christ, but a peace that avoids strain, conflict, or cost. It is the false peace of comfort.

After years of service, sacrifice, and endurance, the desire to step back is understandable. Yet the temptation is to confuse rest with retreat.

Jesus never chose comfort over calling. Even as He faced rejection, suffering, and ultimately the cross, He did not withdraw into self-preservation. His peace was rooted in obedience, not in the absence of difficulty.

In later years of ministry, the wilderness may feel quieter, but it can be just as testing. There is the temptation to disengage emotionally, to avoid costly obedience, or to coast on past faithfulness rather than present surrender.

The wilderness asks a final searching question:
Am I willing to remain faithful—even when the work feels costly and unseen?

Why the Wilderness Remains Essential

Across all three seasons—early, middle, and later years—the wilderness serves the same purpose. It strips away false motivations and exposes what truly sustains us.

For Jesus, the wilderness was where His identity was clarified: Son of God, obedient servant, sent by the Father. For those in ministry, wilderness seasons reveal whether our sense of calling is anchored in Christ or in outcomes, influence, or comfort.

The wilderness is not a sign of failure. It is often the place of formation.

Jesus emerged from the wilderness not diminished, but strengthened—clear about His mission and resolute in obedience. If the Son of God was shaped by wilderness testing at every stage of His ministry, we should not be surprised when our own calling is refined the same way.

The challenge, in every season, is the same: to resist the temptation to reshape our calling around what is easier, safer, or more rewarding—and instead remain faithful to the One who called us.

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My Heart and the Heart of Christianity

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The Bible as a whole is rich and complex, filled with sweeping narratives and occasional snapshots of human experience. But when we come to the events of Easter—the week that culminates in Jesus’ death and resurrection—we are gifted with four separate accounts that lead us with remarkable clarity through the story that changed the world.

In a sense, the whole of Scripture builds toward these final chapters of Jesus’ life. In the Gospels, the earlier material—the teaching, miracles, travels, questions, and encounters—serves as a backdrop for what is about to unfold in Jerusalem. In Mark’s Gospel, Jesus repeatedly tells His disciples that He will go to Jerusalem, be betrayed, suffer, be killed, and rise again. Yet time after time, they hear the words without really absorbing their meaning.

The Easter narrative can be so gripping. It isn’t just a story to be read from a distance; the event draws us in, challenges us, and demands that we ask the fundamental question: Where do I see myself in this story?

Coming to Grips With the True Intent of Jesus

At the heart of the Easter story is a truth we can easily overlook: Jesus came to die. That’s not an incidental part of the narrative; it is the very purpose of His journey to Jerusalem. Yet Jesus’ willingness to die was unlike any other leader we know. In a world familiar with leaders who pursue power, prestige, or security, Jesus’ path reveals something radically different: a love willing to endure pain and rejection for the sake of others.

Reading the Gospel accounts, we see Jesus in the Upper Room with His disciples, acutely aware of what is coming. We see Him in Gethsemane wrestling in prayer, yet surrendering His will to that of the Father. We see Him before religious leaders and political authorities, stunningly silent and unyielding in His purpose. And finally, we watch Him walk towards the cross—not as a defeated prisoner, but as One who knows exactly why He’s there.

Easter is more than a historical narrative. Easter is an invitation to identification. It invites us not only to observe what happened but to see ourselves within it. Do we recognise echoes of Peter’s bold assertions followed by denial in our own lives? Do we recognise our own moments of fear or confusion in the disciples who couldn’t understand what Jesus was trying to teach them? Do we find, perhaps uncomfortably, a reflection of Judas’ betrayal in our own failures of loyalty and trust?

And yet, beyond these personal mirrors, Easter points us to a more profound truth: this is a story about God choosing to identify with you—to step into your world, to face suffering, to take on death itself, and to rise again.

The Cross: More Than a Symbol, It Is the Centre

The temptation with Easter is to relegate it to sentiment—a religious milestone marked once a year among chocolates and spring flowers. But Scripture repeatedly anchors us in the reality of what happened: the cross was real, and Jesus’ death was intentional. He was not a victim of circumstance. He chose to walk into the reality of suffering out of love for us.

Every step of Jesus’ journey that week reveals a divine deliberateness. In the Garden of Gethsemane, His sweat, like drops of blood, reflects the profound weight of what lay ahead. Arrested, tried, mocked, beaten, and crucified—Jesus remained steadfast, because His mission was not only to die, but to die for us.

It’s essential to notice that the Gospels don’t shy away from the brutality of these scenes. They foreground them with vivid detail not to glorify violence, but to ensure that the cost of our redemption is not diminished in our minds or hearts. Christian faith isn’t grounded in a sanitised, sentimental version of events; it is grounded in the stark reality that God became flesh and bore the full weight of human brokenness to bring us life.

Resurrection: The Heart of the Matter

Of course, the story doesn’t end at the cross. The resurrection is not an add-on or a happy ending to make us feel better. It is the climactic affirmation that death is defeated, that life has conquered the grave, and that hope is real. Jesus’ rising from the dead isn’t just an ancient event; it is Easter for you and for me.

When we come face to face with our own mortality, our own failures, our deepest fears and regrets, the resurrection declares that nothing ultimately has the final word except life in Christ. We do not have an abstract hope. Easter hope is a living, breathing reality that Jesus extends to each of us individually—offering forgiveness, renewal, and purpose.

Easter Isn’t Just History—It’s Personal

That’s where Easter becomes personal. The phrase “for me” is not a sentimental addition we tack onto the end of a historical reflection. It is the Gospel’s own invitation to you. Jesus’ death and resurrection were not distant events observed by people like us; they were acts of divine love for you. Jesus intended to die, and His death was meant for you.

Easter was not merely about individual salvation in isolation from the world. Instead, it means that in Jesus’ journey to the cross and beyond, God has drawn near—embracing humanity’s pain, confronting death itself, and offering life that is both present and eternal.

So this Easter—whether it feels familiar, challenging, overwhelming, or hopeful—let it be a moment of recognition. Let it be a moment where we see ourselves in the story, not as distant observers but as invited participants. Let us stand with the disciples in wonder, with Mary in grief and joy, with Thomas in doubt and awe. And let us embrace the central claim of the Gospel: life is not about me identifying with biblical characters so I can learn from them, but in discovering that Christ identified with me, died for me, and rose again for me.

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Repentance Without Compromise: A Return to the Heart of the Gospel

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One of the most remarkable and yet most neglected themes in Scripture is the call to repentance. In the prophets of the Old Testament, we see God’s people repeatedly summoned to turn—not simply to behave better or to correct their actions, but to turn back to God Himself. It was always relational: a call to restoration, not just reform.

Yet even today, repentance is often compromised in the way it is understood, presented, and practised within the church.

Why Repentance Matters

Repentance sits at the very heart of the Christian message. The Bible unfolds the staggering story of God’s grace in rescuing a fallen humanity. Since the fall in Genesis 3, the human condition has been marked by rebellion against God—a rebellion that is not merely behavioural, but deeply relational. We do not first stand neutral before God, awaiting an introduction; we are spiritually dead and estranged from Him.

Into this broken story, God speaks His love. In Christ, He takes the initiative to reconcile us to Himself—paying the penalty for our rebellion, breaking sin’s power, and making possible a restored relationship between Creator and creature. Because God doesn’t merely invite us to His side, but pursues our hearts through His providence and mercy, our response must be more than a superficial adjustment. It must be a true turning—not just of actions, but of direction, affection, and allegiance.

Repentance, then, is not an optional add-on to the Christian life. It is an essential response—the appropriate and inevitable reaction to God’s gift of grace. Without it, we miss the very heart of the Gospel.

How Repentance Gets Compromised

We compromise repentance whenever we lose sight of God’s initiative and instead make repentance about us. When the focus shifts from God’s heart toward ours, repentance becomes a task we perform rather than a posture we receive. We begin to think:

“Repentance is something I must muster up.”

“If I make myself sorry enough, then God will respond.”

“Repentance earns grace.”

But this is a distortion of the Gospel. To imagine God waiting for us to pull ourselves together before He shows mercy is to misunderstand the nature of grace entirely. It’s like imagining a fiancé who pursues someone over many years, only for the other person to think, “Now that you’ve earned my love, I’ll let you marry me.” Repentance is not something God earns from us; it is a response to God’s already-won love.

In the Old Testament, this distortion took many forms. In Hosea, Israel’s repentance was often superficial—words and rituals without the true turning of the heart. They offered sacrifices and performed religious acts, but they did not turn to God in genuine trust and affection. God Himself declared that He desired steadfast love and knowledge of Him more than external ritual.

Repentance Is a Turn To, Not Merely a Turn From

At its core, repentance is relational. It is not primarily about turning away from sin as if that alone makes us acceptable to God. Instead, it is about turning to God Himself—acknowledging His glory, His purposes, and His mercy extended to us in Christ. Repentance is a response to God’s loving pursuit of us.

This distinction matters. True repentance does involve a turning from sin—but that turning becomes a fruit of our turning to God. When someone truly embraces God’s mercy, the direction of their life inevitably changes. But the beginning of repentance is always toward God, not merely away from wrong things.

Sadly, when repentance is compromised, it becomes understandable only as improved behaviour. It becomes a checklist of actions—a list of things to stop doing and start doing. But the prophets remind us that turning from sin without turning to the Lord can be hollow. Israel in Hosea could recite religious devotion convincingly, yet their hearts remained distant from God.

What True Repentance Looks Like

So what is true repentance when it is uncompromised?

1. It begins with God’s initiative.
Repentance is not something we produce independently of God. Scripture emphasises that God’s kindness leads us to repentance—that it is the work of God’s Holy Spirit in our hearts that awakens us to our need of Him.

2. It is a relational turning.
True repentance is about re-orienting the heart toward God. It acknowledges that sin is not merely hurtful behaviour but a rejection of God’s lordship and goodness. This aligns with the biblical emphasis that repentance involves turning toward God in trust and love.

3. It is humble and empty-handed.
When we come to God repentant, we bring nothing of our own merit—no self-improvement, no spiritual checklist. We come with a recognition that we are entirely dependent on His mercy, like children coming home or an orphan entering the embrace of a loving Father.

4. It leads to life-changing transformation.
While repentance begins with turning toward God, it naturally results in change—a life increasingly shaped by holiness, love, and obedience. But these fruits are the result of our turning to God, not the cause of His pardon.

Repentance and the Gospel Today

We live in a culture where the idea of repentance is often misunderstood or minimised. In some Christian circles, it’s relegated to a vague sense of “being sorry” or “feeling bad about sin.” But the Bible calls us to something deeper: a radical turn of heart to God, recognising His grace in Christ and responding with trust and obedience.

Repentance is not a ritual to be performed; it is a life posture. It is not merely about stopping bad habits; it is about embracing God’s mercy and surrendering our lives to Him. It is not something we muster up by our own strength; it is a gift that flows from God’s love, drawing us to Himself.

Whether we are encountering God for the first time or walking with Him for many years, the call is the same: turn to Him with an open heart, trust Him with your life, and let Him be your all. In that turn, we find not only forgiveness, but intimacy with the God who loves us beyond measure.

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Guarding Your First Love in a Mature Faith

/ Peter Mead / Leave a comment

In the early years of ministry, it’s easy to feel utterly dependent on God, acutely aware that only He can work through our weakness. But as years pass, something subtle yet powerful often happens. Growing confidence, increasing experience, and the busyness of ministry life can quietly shift our focus—from clinging to God Himself, to depending on our competence, routines, and structures instead.

That’s not just a ministry problem. It’s a human one. We instinctively assume that time deepens love, strengthens devotion, and fosters a greater spiritual bond. But life, training, experience, and even success can erode the very thing we thought would only grow over time. And Scripture gives us a stark warning against that possibility.

The Ephesus Case Study: Love Lost Over Time

The book of Acts introduces us to the church in Ephesus as a community wholly gripped by God. In Acts 19-20, we see believers so passionately in love with Jesus that they publicly burned their books of occult practice—a dramatic testimony to their captivated hearts. Their zeal was unmistakable across Asia Minor.

Later, as Paul writes to the Ephesians, his tone shifts from celebration to concern. He prays that they might know Christ’s love more deeply and experience the fullness of spiritual understanding.

Then comes the most haunting moment. Decades later, John records Christ’s words to the church in Revelation 2:4: “But I have this against you, that you have abandoned the love you had at first.”

Here we see something profound: a church that grew in strength, discernment, endurance, and theological clarity, yet lost the very love that once ignited its passion for Jesus.

Maturity Without Love Is Not Maturity

What might this look like in real life? Consider marriages that begin with an overwhelming affection and gradually settle into routine companionship. Over time, busyness, roles, and responsibilities compete for the attention once reserved for one another. Devotion becomes duty, a raised pulse at the presence of another gives way to rhythms of everyday life and routine, and fascination becomes familiarity.

Our relationship with Jesus can suffer similarly. We may grow in knowledge, resilience, and spiritual discipline, but when love for Him cools, we risk becoming proficient yet distant.

The church in Ephesus was strong, respected, and doctrinally sound. Yet, to Jesus, their primary failure was not moral collapse or theological heresy—it was lovelessness. They were enduring, but they had lost their first love.

Jesus does not dismiss their strengths. Instead, He calls them back to the heart of what really matters: zealous affection for Him.

First Love Matters More Than Performance

This challenge isn’t just for the early church; it’s timeless. I need it myself. You probably do too. The danger to our spiritual life isn’t only blatant sin or obvious failure—it’s the slow drift of the heart. Even good things can become idols when they push Christ from the centre of our affections.

This is why Paul repeatedly urges believers to walk in love—not merely to act lovingly, but to be motivated by love that mirrors Christ’s own. It’s why he prays that believers might know the breadth and depth of Christ’s love—not so they can tick a doctrinal box, but so their hearts might be captured all over again.

The church in Ephesus had everything Christians often aspire to: discernment, perseverance, doctrine, and ministry strength. But what they lost was the source of all those gifts: Christ’s love in the affections of their hearts.

Jesus’ response to them is equally personal and relational. Following His rebuke, He doesn’t suggest better practices or routines. He extends an invitation: “Repent and return to the love you had at first.”

This call to repentance isn’t about moral failure alone; it’s a call to reawaken our hearts.

What Does It Look Like to Guard the First Love?

Guarding our first love for Christ isn’t about lingering in a past emotional experience. It’s about cultivating a present and growing affection that shapes our identity, decisions, and purpose. Here are a few markers of that heart posture:

Dependence, not self-reliance: Celebrating grace more than competence.

Vulnerability, not performance: Transparent before God rather than projecting spiritual success.

Affection over achievement: Loving Jesus for who He is, not for what He enables us to do.

Stillness in busyness: Choosing moments of quiet devotion over frantic productivity.

We tend to assume that maturity means emotional steadiness—but sometimes steadiness is just numbness. Jesus desires more than endurance; He desires a deep, tender affection that fuels all other virtues.

A Personal and Eternal Invitation

When we reflect on the Ephesian example, we see a mirror for our souls. Losing our first love isn’t always dramatic. It can happen slowly, in incremental shifts: devotion to Jesus becomes devotion to our own agendas, ministry output, or spiritual achievements.

Yet the invitation remains: return to Christ, cultivate love, and never lose what matters most. Like a spouse longing for closeness, Jesus waits not for our perfection—but for our affection.

Paul’s prayer for the Ephesians isn’t merely theological; it’s relational. And Jesus’ call to repentance isn’t about regret; it’s about renewal.

So today, pause for a moment with the question: Am I more committed to the routines of following Jesus—or to Jesus Himself?

Guarding your first love isn’t about going back to square one. It’s about moving forward with your heart fully surrendered to Him.

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As Far As It Depends On Me

/ Peter Mead / 1 Comment

As we launch into a New Year, there are many unknowns.  We do not know what today will bring, let alone twelve months of days.  We cannot predict global affairs or the specific circumstances in any one of our lives.  This means that, above all else, we need to entrust our steps to God and walk forward by faith.

However, it may be helpful to reflect on our heartfelt intentions as we head into the New Year.  In Romans 12, Paul gives such a helpful thought on interpersonal relationships:

If possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all.

(Romans 12:18)

Paul knew that it would be unrealistic to hope to control outcomes when we have no control or even influence over the actions and responses of others.  The context makes it clear that people will act dishonorably, and people will perpetrate acts of evil.  And we could add that in the church, people will behave unwisely, unkindly, and destructively toward relationships we have poured ourselves into over many years.  It is tempting to want to sort it all out, correct everyone, and fix the mess.  Paul is more realistic.  We can only do what we can do.

What is true in relationships is also true in all areas of ministry.  We can only do what we can do.  So in that spirit, here are three areas to consider as we head into 2026:

So far as it depends on me, I desire to live prayerfully this year. 

How would you define your priorities for your walk with the Lord this year?  This is the most important relationship you have, so it is wise to think through how you intend to lean into it in the coming months.  Perhaps you want to prioritise time in the Word of God, listening to His heart and values to shape your own.  Perhaps you want to prioritise rest and the rhythms of sabbath to support your spiritual health.  Perhaps you want to lean into times of prayer in a fresh way—transparency with God in all areas of life and struggle, responsive prayer with your Bible reading, and/or dedicating greater time to intercessory prayer.  Of course, so much depends on Him, and so much is still unknown.  He may grow your relationship with Him in ways you have never considered, and maybe might never choose.  Nevertheless, it is good to pray through what this relationship looks like from your side as you head into the New Year.

So far as it depends on me, I desire to live presently this year.

We have other relationships that matter massively, too—marriage, parenting, other family relationships, friendships, ministry connections, etc.  Every single person represents a multiplicity of potential unknowns.  We don’t know anyone else’s future any more than we can understand our own.  However, we can pray through how we are thinking about and prioritising important human relationships as we head into the New Year.  Perhaps you want to schedule more dates with your spouse, maybe even an overnight getaway or two during the year?  Perhaps your children have suffered because of your ministry commitments, and you want to prioritise the shrinking time you have with them before they leave home?  Maybe one of your grown children is struggling and you want to find a way to invest in their situation for a season?  The intention could be definite and marked on your schedule, or it could be a value you desire to integrate into your rhythms of life—maybe the desire to be present in whatever conversation or situation you are in, undistracted by technology or the busy swirl of other commitments.

So far as it depends on me, I desire to live purposefully this year.

The best-laid plans any of us make are quick to be interrupted by unforeseen complications—heavy traffic, problems with our computers, a broken washing machine, an unexpected phone call from someone in trouble.  My wife and I sometimes remind each other that an hour going as planned is unusual in a fallen world!  The problem is that the overwhelming swirl of urgent needs and demands can make us feel hopeless and lose heart.  We could easily say, for the next month, I will just do whatever interrupts me and whatever issue presents itself.  It feels like we could live life with absolutely no priorities or purpose because there is always so much to do.  The New Year is a good time to consider prayerfully what really matters.  What really matters in our relationship, in our parenting, in our home, in our church, in our ministry roles.  What should I prioritise because only I can do it?  That could be reading to your children before bed a certain number of times each week, or it could be starting a new ministry in your church that nobody else can do.  And if it means saying yes to something, it will mean saying no to other things.

As we head into 2026, let’s prayerfully consider both our inability to influence and control everything and our desires for what we can shape about the year ahead.

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Christmas Podcast Discussions

/ Peter Mead / Leave a comment

As I mentioned before, my good friends at Fellowship of Wildwood in Missouri are giving away copies of Pleased to Dwell as part of their pre-Christmas outreach this year. Alongside the book, they have a weekly reading and a discussion. So here are the first three discussions.

Discussion 1: The Presence of the Promiser

Discussion 2: We Do Not Face Sin Alone

Discussion 3: The Birth of the Baby

I hope these are encouraging. There is one more coming in the next few days. Have a wonderful Christmas!

Christmas Podcast – week 1

/ Peter Mead / 3 Comments

My good friends at Fellowship of Wildwood in Missouri are giving away copies of Pleased to Dwell as part of their pre-Christmas outreach this year. Alongside the book, they have a weekly reading and a discussion about an aspect of it. Here is the first reading:

And here is the first discussion:

I will post the others on here, but feel free to subscribe to their channel and see them as soon as they come out. Thanks so much!

Advent Videos

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Starting today, you would be very welcome to follow along with the Pleased to Dwell advent video playlist. It can work alongside the book, or you can just watch the videos. Here is the playlist, please do subscribe to the YouTube channel and use the playlist to work your way through these short videos as Christmas approaches!

Making Christmas Real

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The end of the year brings a strange combination of familiar traditions and genuine challenges.  While we may be surrounded by bright lights and cheerful music, with parties and celebratory gatherings, we may also be struggling financially, wondering how we are supposed to get everything done and concerned about how we will handle looming difficulties.  It could be navigating an awkward conversation with that difficult family member, or coping with the exuberant happiness when we are grieving a loved one, or facing particular challenges that would be hard enough at any time of the year, let alone during the “festive season.”  Life can feel like too much, and Christmas sometimes makes it feel even worse.

As Christmas approaches, whether we are dealing with a particular challenge or not, we will all again be confronted with the challenge of seeing past the consumer festival and the nostalgic traditions to the reality of the incarnation.  Finding the relevance of this critical doctrine is not achieved by simply revisiting familiar truths through nostalgic traditions.  We also have a fresh need to explore how the old truth resonates with contemporary life – including all its challenges.

We are familiar with reviewing the great step taken by the Son of God from heaven to earth – the infinite taking on infancy, the glorious riches to abject poverty, etc.  We are used to noting that He came with a purpose; He took on a human body and life so that He could experience death in that body for us.  Indeed, Christmas is an arrow pointing to Easter, and it is right to think of that each year. 

More than that, Christmas is an arrow pointing to a God who is revealing Himself in the ultimate way, and an invitation opened to rich and poor, local and global, Jew and Gentile.  It is a story to stir our nostalgia and our worship, an inspiring example, and, if told well, a thriller with a villain, a deadly threat, and a perfectly-timed escape.

Actually, Christmas is a many-layered story, with intriguing characters, long-awaited prophecies, and profoundly moving themes woven together. 

And yet, we so often end up repeating it as if it were merely a nostalgic children’s story to retell like an old family tale that gets trotted out once a year as we gather around a fire and nibble on seasonal treats.

How will you engage the Christmas story this year?  How will it connect with your current experiences and concerns in a unique and fresh way in 2025?

Your life, your struggles, are very real.  So was the first Christmas.  It was not a pretty scene with snow falling peacefully.  It contained real fear, real confusion, real hopelessness, real heartbreak.  The bewilderment for Mary would have been so constant, the uncertainty for Joseph so vivid.  The emptiness and despair of life for the shepherds would have been genuinely bleak.  The intrigue of the wise men and all who came into contact with them must have been genuinely perplexing.  The first Christmas was real. 

As we come to another Christmas, let’s not just go through the motions of another ritual celebration.  Let’s not think of it only in picture book scenes, nor apply its truth in nice generalities.  Let’s be sure to bring the most real concerns of our time to the Christmas story and find in it a Saviour who has learned what it is to be human, what it is to enter into a world of political tensions, of the deadly inhumanity of men to one another, of the searing heartache of poverty.  May we find a richer appreciation for our Lord because our 2025 Christmas realities meet with His first Christmas realities.

The reality of the incarnation is big enough to maintain its relevance and to shine forth its significance, no matter how difficult our current experience might be.  May we honour God by bringing our real mess up close to the very real messiness of the first Christmas.  There we will find a true Saviour, who is Christ our Lord, and that really is good news for all of humanity. 

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Peter’s book, Pleased to Dwell, is an ideal read in the Christmas season. To buy in the UK or Europe, click here, and to buy in North America, click here. Please do subscribe to the podcast, and let others know about it too:

Catching Up With The Podcast

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It has been a busy few months and I haven’t posted links to the podcast on here as much as I had planned. But let’s do a quick catch-up:

After a sequence of weddings, I shared some thoughts on preaching at a wedding. The last months included some great interviews, including:

Andy Paterson – Firstly, on how the Word does the work of ministry, and then, the relationships of a preacher.

Marcus Honeysett – First, on painting with fire, then on the nature of true transformation, and finally, on the heart of the preacher.

Steve Mathewson, we crossed the ocean to hear from Steve on the importance of all scripture in our preaching, and then we reminisced together about lessons learned from our mutual mentor, Haddon Robinson!

Jonathan Lamb – back to the UK to hear from Jonathan on crossing cultures as we think about preaching, and then we thought about how preaching models for listeners!

Rick McKinley – and once more back to the US to hear from an experienced pastor in the Portland metro area on connections required to connect with our listeners, and a great discussion about the role of humility in preaching.

Along the way, we have had some bitesize episodes on specific subjects, like adding to the text, is something missing in your preaching?, preaching the prophets, preaching at Christmas, and highlighting historical accuracy when we preach.

Mike and I have also enjoyed some helpful discussions: thoughts on being a guest preacher – something we’ve both done quite a bit of over the years!, landing a message, bad preaching (another area where we have experience!), a chat about Pleased to Dwell in anticipation of the advent season, and a chat about preaching at Christmastime!

We hope these episodes have been helpful for you, and if you have missed any, please do catch up! As ever, we really appreciate any help in getting the word out about the podcast – sharing links, liking, subscribing, etc., is all really helpful. If you particularly like an episode, please do let others know about it on social media – thank you in advance!