Author: Peter Mead

The Ministry of Saying Less

/ Peter Mead / Leave a comment

In preaching, teaching, counselling, and leadership, there is something to be said for saying less.  I am not suggesting that we become aloof and mysterious.  But there is a danger that we can say so much that people start to miss what they most need to hear.

Saying too much is a danger for people who are new to their role.  A young preacher will tend to feel insecure and assume that they have to prove the value and depth of their study by sharing everything they learned during preparation.  A new leader can feel tempted to speak because they are the leader and hope the many words will prove their wisdom.

But this can also be a danger for experienced folks too.  It takes work to evaluate material, cut content, and sharpen a presentation.  Sometimes, as we get older, we can lose the energy and discipline needed to filter a good message into a better one.

Whether it is insecurity, laziness, or another reason, there is a danger that we say more than we should and the listeners miss the part they needed to hear.

Good preaching, teaching, leading, and counselling require not only knowing what to say, but knowing what not to say.  Cutting material is not an admission of weakness; it can be an act of love toward the listeners and good stewardship before God.

Tempted to say everything

In ministry, you will often have a lot to say.  A lot of accumulated knowledge, a lot of research for a message, a lot of ideas and stories that you could share.  In fact, when you prepare to preach a sermon, you should have more material than can fit into the message – a good message never comes from working until you have enough to fill the time.  To really study a passage will mean gaining contextual awareness, textual detail, geographical insight, theological connections, relevant cross-references, and a host of potential applications.  It is tempting to try to say everything, in part, because everything you learned was a blessing to you.

Good things can be distracting

Perhaps you prepared prayerfully and studiously for a counselling meeting with a person in your church.  In counselling, you have the added dimension of needing to listen and direct the conversation in a helpful direction.  But still, you have a big stock of ideas, suggestions, stories, and teaching you might choose to share.  Whether it is a sermon, a counselling session, or another ministry setting, you need to be selective in what you share.  The hardest things to cut will be good things: a useful illustration, a memorable story, an interesting historical detail, a relevant theological insight, a surprising cross-reference.  It is not enough to ask, ‘is it true?’  We need to ask, does this really serve the central goal of this ministry opportunity?

Saying less can make the main thing clearer

Let’s imagine having a hundred potential items to include.  Every one of them, if included, will compete for attention.  People cannot process a hundred thoughts, ideas, stories, and pieces of information.  Think of the familiar bed-of-nails demonstration.  A single nail can be dangerous, but spread the weight across hundreds of nails and the pressure is distributed. Something similar happens with communication: when we scatter people’s attention across a hundred thoughts, none of them receives much weight.  So it is with our presentation: don’t press people with a hundred thoughts; penetrate with a sharpened point.  If everything is said, nothing is particularly heard.  If everything is emphasized, nothing is emphasized.  Work to remove whatever does not belong, then subordinate some of your material so it supports and reinforces the main thing you want to make clear.

Cutting material requires humility, love, and effort

Sometimes we may be tempted to keep something because it demonstrates our preparation.  But “I worked hard on this” is not a reason to make people hear it.  Some of your best research will be left in your study.  It takes humility not to prove your effort or knowledge.  It takes love to prayerfully hone your material for the best impact on your listeners.  It takes effort to go through the message again, sharpen it one more time, and work on individual points until they are as clear as they can be.

What should make it through the cutting process?

If a particular passage is the focus of this moment of ministry, then the main truth of that passage should make it through the cutting process.  The unique impact of that passage may not be considered again for years, so you don’t want to miss the moment now.  What helps people understand that truth?  What helps them feel its weight?  What helps them to respond appropriately?  And even ministry that isn’t offered under the label of a single passage, such as a counselling session or a leadership presentation, will benefit from similar clarity and focus.

We are not called to prove our competence, show off our knowledge, or justify our efforts in preparation.  We are called to serve.  Put in the work to build up too much material, then put in the work to hone it down for maximum impact.  The ministry of saying less isn’t about having less to say.  It is about caring enough to decide what most needs to be said.  We don’t need to sound like a mysterious guru.  Let’s try to be as on target as we can be.  Less noise, more impact.  Because sometimes the most pastorally loving thing we can say is less than others might expect.  After all, the goal is not for people to hear us, but by God’s grace, through us, to hear Him.

_____________________________________________

Don’t Just Get It Done

/ Peter Mead / Leave a comment

Many believers struggle with personal time in God’s Word.  They know it is important to spend time getting into the Bible and getting the Bible into them, but it can still be a real struggle.  When we are feeling spiritually dry or demotivated, we can start to avoid time in the Word, or we can fall into a dutiful, determined diligence – a get-it-done mentality.  We might quickly skim over a chapter or two, ignore the pangs of regret in our conscience, and press on with the pressing matters of the day. 

We might find ourselves rationalising this approach with thoughts like, “At least I read something; so many don’t.”  But would that kind of thinking satisfy in a human relationship?  If we were to “just get it done” and spend a couple of minutes distractedly disengaged from our spouse or our children, would that keep the relationship warm and healthy?  Not at all.  Perhaps we need to stop settling for a personal Bible time that checks an item off a list but offers no meaningful relational engagement with God.

We need to get into the Bible diligently and regularly.  Here are three reasons why we should get into the Bible.  First, because we live in an antagonistic context.  We are bombarded by messaging from a world that conspires to keep us distanced from God and vulnerable to temptation or self-reliance.  Second, because our need is desperate.  The more we grow as believers, the more we realise how deep our sin problem really is, and the more we recognise our utter dependence on God day by day.  And third, because our God is good.  What God is like should be the strongest motivation of all.  To be in God’s Word is to be able to relate to Him, to get to know Him, to continue to grasp just how wonderful He is.  This is the God who, to know, is life itself – we cannot describe just how good He is, but we might get closer to knowing Him if we spend time in His Word.

We also need to get into the Bible devotionally and relationally.  Some of us might be more inclined toward a more cerebral analysis; others, a more ritualistic reading discipline.  Whatever else we may find helpful, our top priority should be to read the Bible devotionally and relationally.  Two key questions can really help us in this:

  1. What does God want to tell me about Himself?
  2. What difference does God want to make in my life today?

The Bible is, first and foremost, a revelation of God’s person, God’s heart, God’s character, and God’s values.  We are not primarily looking for information, knowledge, or theological sophistication.  We are primarily looking for Him!  And in encountering God’s self-revelation, there will be transformative implications for our lives too.  

These two key questions can unlock a more personal, relational, and devotional response to being in the Bible.  This devotional approach can bear fruit in multiple ideas for our engagement with God in His Word:

  1. We can shower in the Word – listen devotionally to the Bible on a Bible app.  Your goal is not to retain every detail, but to be washed by the Word as it runs over you. 
  2. We can soak in a Bible book – study devotionally as you choose a Bible book that motivates you and do whatever you can to get to know God better through the study of that book.  When your motivation shifts to another Bible book, go with it and enjoy your study.
  3. Share your thoughts with God – journal devotionally as you prayerfully write out your heartfelt response to what you are experiencing in life and encountering in the Scriptures.  A Bible-based relationship with God is so much healthier than any alternative approach.
  4. Stick it deep in your heart – memorise devotionally so that key verses that you read or study can be deeply lodged in your heart for future meditation and prayer.  It is great to get time in the Word every day.  It is also great to ponder the Word throughout your day.
  5. Say it back to God – pray devotionally so that the Bible that you are reading, studying, and/or memorising can form content in your prayer time.  It might stir you to greater worship, to greater trust, to sharing God’s vision for ministry, or to conviction over the shadows in your soul. 
  6. Seek to encourage a friend – relate devotionally so that you purposefully pour the blessings you receive into others that you care about.  It is so easy to talk about sport, the weather, and the details of our day, but what a blessing we could be to one another if only we’d share what God first gives us through His Word.

God has given us an amazing gift in the Scriptures.  Let’s never settle for “getting it done” when it comes to our Bible time.  May God ignite a fire in our hearts to know Him better, love Him more, and live increasingly Bible-shaped lives in these difficult days.

________________________________________________

A Podcast Catch-Up

/ Peter Mead / Leave a comment

This year has flown by. Part of the reason for that was being away for a three-month sabbatical, followed by trying to catch up once I returned home. So let’s play catch-up on the podcast so far in 2026.

Let’s start with interesting guests – Rick McKinley from Portland, OR (connecting with people in our culture – Part 1, and humility and the preacher – Part 2). Then we had Jordan Scheetz, keeping up the Portland connection. Jordan talked about what he looks for when listening to preaching (part 1), and the Old Testament and preaching (part 2). Then we had Richard Coekin, from the UK, talking about the Bible’s role in living by faith (part 1), and considering the nature of application (part 2)

We had a series of 10 Pointers episodes – on special occasion preaching, on preaching teams, on preaching calendars, for seminary trained preachers, as well as for untrained preachers, and preaching at Easter. There was also one for younger preachers, and one for older preachers.

Then we had some other bitesized episodes – on accuracy in preaching, a list of seven ways to grow as a preacher, and one on when you only preach every so often.

And we’ve had some good discussion episodes too – there was the episode on flow, and the one on ordinary preaching, one on getting technical, another on preaching through translation, and one on getting feedback. How do you pick a passage to preach? Or plan a series? Things to avoid when preaching, and how do we make sure we don’t fall into manipulation? What is the essence of good preaching?

Thank you for watching or listening to the podcast. We really appreciate every like, comment, share, etc. They really do help with the algorithm so that others get to see the podcast too.

___________________________________________________

Our latest episode:

Rest: A Dirty Word

/ Peter Mead / Leave a comment

For many pastors, ministry leaders, and preachers, rest seems like a dirty word. 

Of course, we will affirm its importance in others’ lives.  The overloaded person in our church, who is starting to show signs of cracking, should take rest more seriously.  The marriage, which is under a lot of stress and showing signs of wear, would do well to take some time out to recuperate and reconnect.  Even the church leader down the road should incorporate rest into the rhythm of life and ministry.  But when it comes to the person in the mirror, some of us tend to resist our own advice.

We probably know the biblical case for the sabbath – that weekly rhythm of work and rest, the day set apart for honouring God not only through our worship but also through our faith-filled cessation of striving.  We may also know about the Old Testament lesson of giving land a season of rest and what happened when Israel didn’t follow God’s instruction in that regard.

Then there is the New Testament’s far more familiar ground to cover.  Think of Jesus taking time away from the crowds to be with his Father.  Or the example of Martha, who was so busy loving her neighbour that she failed to love the Lord as her priority.  Yes, she was busily serving in the kitchen. Still, Mary had chosen the top priority – she was sitting at Jesus’ feet, letting him minister to her.  It wasn’t just Martha’s cooking that was steaming; it was her as well when she came into the gathering, making the atmosphere feel immediately tense and awkward.

We know what the Bible says.  We know that it applies to others.  We can see the need for rest in those around us as their attitudes reflect Martha’s bad day.  But all too often, we cannot see the issue in ourselves.

I’m sure there are all sorts of psychological reasons why we feel exempt from the instruction to rest.  Maybe our identity is caught up in being busy?  Perhaps we are addicted to the adrenaline that comes with pressure, deadlines and crises?  Or our addiction might be to being needed by others, being the vital cog in the machine, or just being busily distracted from some personal inner emptiness? 

In Acts 6:4, the apostles recognised the danger posed by the growing demands of ministry.  The danger was that they would not be able to devote themselves to the Word and to prayer.  On my recent sabbatical, I read The Unhurried Pastor by Croft and Martin.  They pointed out that the church leader needs to guard time for the essential foundation of ministry.  That is not email, text messages, committee meetings, planning meetings, paperwork, organisation, administration, etc.  All of these have their place, and ministry will involve a variety of work behind the scenes and with people.  But the essential foundation is the Word, prayer, and contemplation.  Do these have their proper place in our ministry rhythms?

I read another book, a collection of mini-biographies by Warren Wiersbe.  He mentioned several times an elder statesman who repeatedly advised other pastors to take two months off from the pulpit every summer.  That was at the start of the last century.  For most preachers and church leaders today, two months away would be a rare sabbatical, not an annual vacation.  Nevertheless, it does provoke the thought – would my ministry be more effective if I gave it room to breathe?

I did not realise how much a sabbatical would bless my soul.  I did not feel like I needed it.  And yet, I am thanking God for the extended break away from ministry responsibility that we were given at the start of the year.  I am thanking God that we were able to be away from home so that the switch-off could be complete.  And I am thanking God that we chose to switch off rather than use the time away from normal responsibilities to take on more (like teaching elsewhere or writing). 

The blessing of an extended break away from home may feel impossible in your circumstances, I understand that for many reasons.  You can still pray about the possibility and see what God does.  But in the meantime, how about your next day off?  When is it?  How will it be a day off?  What will you switch off?  What will you do that is life-giving to you spiritually, physically, emotionally, and relationally? 

________________________________________________

Preaching to Build the Church

/ Peter Mead / Leave a comment

I recently returned from a three-month sabbatical.  What an incredible blessing that time was for our family – time to rest, time to grow closer to God, time to focus on our marriage.  After being in full-time ministry for over two decades, it was our first extended break.  We thank God, our church, and all who helped to make it such a blessed time.

One of the side benefits of this time was the opportunity to visit about 13 different churches.  I often see other churches, but as a visiting speaker.  That’s different.  Being an unknown guest allowed me to observe, notice, appreciate, and learn.  We went to churches of all sizes (from 40 in the pews to tens of thousands over multiple services), various backgrounds, unique stories, and diverse strengths.  (We also didn’t go to a few churches because they did not indicate when they meet – not on their sign, no phone number or website!)

Here are three big takeaways from this season of church visits:

1. Christ is building His church!

    It is easy for us all to get so caught up in our own local church or our own church network that we lose sight of what God is doing around the world.  We worshipped in drafty warehouses, historic buildings, tired functional buildings, stunning modern buildings, and a basketball arena.  We sang and listened alongside tens and alongside thousands.  We heard preachers with massive podcast followings, preachers with decades of experience, and a preacher without training faithfully filling the pulpit because the pastor had recently been promoted to glory.  In different settings, with different crowds, different musical styles, and different preachers, the Gospel is being preached, and the church is being built.  We saw so many baptisms; it was hugely encouraging.  In our own setting, we may be encouraged or discouraged, or some combination of the two.  But let’s remember that Jesus promised to build His church, and He continues to do exactly that across the world.

    2. Preach the word to build the church!

    I met with one pastor who quickly became a friend.  He told me of a church that had gone from hundreds every Sunday to a handful of people in less than twenty years.  Why?  They had given up on preaching truth.  On the other hand, two of the churches we visited are notable for their courage in going against the cultural tide and daring to be outspokenly biblical.  I know many who would not share their courage or boldness.  And yet one church was adding extra campuses to its ministry, while the other was desperately trying to add the parking spaces needed to accommodate the growth in attendance.  Compromise on the Scriptures, and a church has nothing to offer.  Dare to preach the Gospel boldly and not shy away from graciously addressing difficult subjects, and the church seems to grow.

    3. Preach to reach the world; don’t just preach to the church!

    I noticed how many preachers seemed to miss one key group of people in their preaching.  They preached to their congregations, in some cases offering clear, bold vision, faithful Bible teaching, and challenging applications aimed at specific groups in the church.  But in many cases (not all), they did not clearly address guests and unbelievers.  It seems to me that there are a couple of good reasons to preach in such a way that guests and unbelievers feel seen and valued.  First, because there may be guests and unbelievers present.  What is the benefit of assuming everyone present is already saved and following Christ?  Guests can show up on any Sunday (assuming there is a way to find out when the church is meeting!).  Why miss the opportunity to present the Gospel to them?  The second reason is that people in the church might be willing to invite neighbours and colleagues.  However, to invite people, they need to trust that their guests will feel seen and valued.  People generally will not risk relationships on inconsistently welcoming and irrelevant church services.  How we preach when no guests are present will influence whether church members invite guests in the future.

    ______________________________________

    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.

    ___________________________________________________

    My Heart and the Heart of Christianity

    / Peter Mead / Leave a comment

    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.

    ___________________________________________________________

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

    / Peter Mead / Leave a comment

    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.

    ______________________________________________________

    Please check out The Biblical Preaching Podcast, subscribe on YouTube or your podcast app, and help us spread the word about this resource!

    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.

    ______________________________________________________________