This is a time full of feasting. Everywhere you go it seems you’re offered a plate of mince pies or piece of stollen, perhaps with a glass of mulled wine. You can’t escape it—biscuits and coffee at church become wine and cake week after week. Or at least that’s normal in the UK, I’m told this is less normal in North America and can only conclude it’s because you hate Christmas, what else could it be?

You’d be forgiven for thinking I was speaking of January, named after the Roman god Janus who had two faces to look forwards and backwards in the year. Rather, Advent—the first season of the Christian year—has two faces. One face is a face of joy, the face we associate with our Christmas traditions, with chocolate and feasting. From this mouth Advent bids to us “

This is the time of waiting. It doesn’t look like it if you look around you though. We must be one of the most impatient cultures yet to grace the face of the earth, which is why I’m convinced we need to recover some sense of Advent as a counter-cultural act. This is the time of waiting, of hoping and of preparation.

Advent starts on Sunday, which will confuse some of you because you’re expecting it to start on Monday. Others of you will be appalled at the idea of ‘doing Christmas’ in November, even if it’s just one day, so it’s good news that ‘doing Christmas’ and celebrating Advent are quite different things. Advent is dark. Advent is bleak. Advent is about staring at the wretched core of the ash we clutch onto so that when our eyes are lifted and the thrice holy God comes with the dawn, we are amazed, delighted, and ready.

This will initially seem like an odd claim to make, and a particularly odd claim to read on your phone, the most disembodying and dislocating device you own. Wisdom doesn’t feel embodied, wisdom is about ideas, surely? Ideas are immaterial if anything is, right? Your body isn’t relevant to things that we think, or so the narrative goes. This is a thought that can be thought easily in the digital age: everything is disembodied.

I fear that, without really intending to, churches have a habit of infantilising people. We should treat people like adults. My new staff team tells me this is something I say a lot. In my experience, the vast majority of people act like they are treated. If we expect people to act in disciplined, orderly ways, then most people will do so.

One thing is for certain: it’s neither quiet, nor a revival. The term is now everywhere in the Christian discourse, the UK Bible Society released a report from some research they’d conducted that claims there has been a notable uptick in the number of young people, especially Gen Z men, attending church. That data has been challenged by many, because they claim it doesn’t reflect what they see in their context.

We have to thank a man of the north east, the Venerable Bede, for the fact that we all call the year I’m writing this 2025. Bede didn’t invent AD as a counting system (that was Dionysius Exiguus in the sixth century), but the eighth century he popularised it as a way of counting dates. Notably in famous Ecclesiastical History of the English People…

We need to make distinctions. Is England a ‘Christian Nation?’ Perhaps unsurprisingly, it really depends what you mean by the question. There are reasonable definitions of ‘Christian Nation’ where England, and the UK, or one of the two, fit it, and there are reasonable definitions where they do not. This post is my attempt to very briefly explore seven different things the term could reasonably mean, and give a yes, no, or ‘it’s complicated,’ answer to the question of whether we can describe England as that.

What is wisdom? Does it have something to do with whether or not you put tomatoes in a fruit salad? Wisdom is a key Biblical concept, undervalued in the modern day. I rarely hear preaching about wisdom, for all it’s at the root of the problem of Eden and therefore we might assume also involved in the atonement. We are waking up again to the importance of spiritual formation, and maturity, which is the same thing in essence.

I am pro ‘symbolic’ reading of the Bible. This goes by a few different names, which aren’t entirely contiguous with each other: typology, spiritual reading, the four senses, allegory, maximalism, and more. These things aren’t the same, and they might not all even really be the same neck of the woods, but they are all in the woods.

This should be a straightforward question, but to answer it we need to make a number of distinctions. This felt like a largely American discourse until fairly recently, but the term is increasingly being used here in the UK as well. The problem is, it’s a big broad sloppy term that means as much or as little as those employing it intend it to.

We undervalue the importance of hospitality for the Christian life: it’s a central feature of who we are and how we should be behaving because Christianity is practiced at the table. That aphorism is a deliberate double entendre, in fact, it contains two of them. Firstly, when talking about the table, I have two different realities in view. I mean both your dining table in your home that maybe seats four others if you’ve managed to squeeze a medium sized one in somewhere, and I mean ‘The Table,’ the place that the gathered church comes to eat and drink Jesus in the Lord’s Supper.

When God floods the earth in the days of Noah it’s like he turns the clock back on everything that’s happened in the last six chapters of Genesis, and the world reverts to Genesis 1. Before God created and ordered over seven days, the world was water. In Noah’s flood he unmakes and disorders by reverting creation to where it started.

You carry in your pocket a whole world. That hand-sized brick of black glass is a window to anything and everything that there is. You could find out what is known publicly about anyone you meet. You could learn from someone else how they think you should complete any tasks you’re about to do. You could read news or opinion on any thing in the world.

What do we mean by ‘forgiveness’? If you’re meant to forgive someone, what does this actually mean? I fear that a lot of the ways we talk about forgiveness in the church are slightly out of step with how the Bible talks about forgiveness. While a thorough exegesis of the relevant passages would be helpful, I would like to suggest that one of the key problems is that we (and the Bible) use the word ‘forgiveness’ to cover three different realities that we often conflate.

How do we engage young people in the faith? What can we do to keep them in the church? What will they be interested in and how can we use that to tell them about Jesus? How can we keep their attention? We could throw their phones in the sea. Or, if that’s off the table, and I’m no expert in youth work or teenagers, my suggestion is this:

We read the Bible in two directions, horizontally and vertically. Or, because I really like the word, we read the Bible orthogonally. I’m using some of the language here of Michael Niebauer, who argues for these two angles of reading, horizontal and vertical. I depart from him in the below to some extent, but I’m using his terms. Horizontal Reading…

Spurgeon’s College has recently closed with immediate effect as its financial situation became untenable. This raises some interesting questions, even for those of us in movements in the UK that rarely use residential training settings. Spurgeon’s had recently become a university, with its own degree awarding powers. It was the only independent evangelical Bible College to have done so in the UK and was being watched with interest by the others.

What do we do when those who have helped our theological development take a step in a direction that really concerns us? As I write, there’s just been a bruhaha on X about John Mark Comer changing his mind away from penal substitutionary atonement. To be precise, though little of the storm has been, he expressed movement in that direction in an Instagram story.

I have 3 rules for preaching; I thought I’d share them with you. These are my first ports of call for assessing my own or someone else’s preaching. There is lots more that could be said and fed back on, but this is the centre of what I think we should be aiming for in our preaching. If we miss these, we’ve…

We live in a deeply connected world. There are some signs that geopolitically that might be changing, but individually it’s as true as ever. The distraction devices in our pockets keep us connected to each other, people with our specific interests, what’s going on in the world, things somewhere we should be anxious about that will never affect us personally, and an unending swirl of banality.

Paul in 1 Corinthians 14 is keen to express to the Corinthians that worship should be orderly. Yes, you can have a flow of charismatic life with everyone bringing their prayer, tongue, Bible reading, prophecy, and the rest, but you must also have some order. At the very least you need to take it in turns, it should be understandable, languages (heavenly or earthly) must be interpreted, prophecies should be weighed by the elders at the time and responded to (that’s my understanding of 1 Corinthians 14’s statement on women, it won’t be everyone’s reading), and we shouldn’t have too much of any of it.

There is no one who is higher than the Lord Jesus. He is Yahweh, God of gods, King of kings, Lord of lords. He is seated on the throne in the heavenly temple and the train of his robe fills the place. There are winged fiery lightning snakes that attend his person and serenade him, sinless beings of terrible might, who have a whole seat of extraneous wings for the single purpose of ensuring they never look at him because he is too wondrous for their sight (Isaiah 6).

If you want to mature, you’re going to have to suffer. Actually, that’s not quite right. You are going to suffer, that’s the nature of life under the sun. Some of that will be petty, some of it will be serious, and (heaven-forfend) some of it will be so psychologically scarring that you’ll be getting over it for a long time.