Reflection for a Church Anniversary

Although not able to attend Stockton Salvation Army this morning (Sunday 16 November 2025) I’ve been able to reflect on the Bible reading at home.

Exodus 13:17 to 14:14 is a gentle reminder that God’s guidance is often longer, slower, and wiser than the paths we’d choose. When Pharaoh finally lets the people go, God doesn’t take them by the quickest route but leads them by the desert road towards the Red Sea, knowing they aren’t ready for the shock of conflict. There’s something tender in that, something that speaks to the long story of every church and every believer: God doesn’t rush maturity, and he doesn’t abandon us when the journey bends in ways we never expected.

The pillar of cloud and fire becomes a symbol of that patient, steady presence. By day and by night, God stays ahead of his people, guiding them with a quiet constancy that doesn’t demand attention but offers reassurance. When I think of my own church celebrating its anniversary, I see echoes of that presence: the unexpected turns navigated with grace, the seasons of joy, the times of strain, and the quiet ways God has held the fellowship together. Even from a distance, I can be part of that gratitude.

Then comes the moment of fear: the roar of Pharaoh’s chariots behind, the sea blocking the way ahead, and the people crying out in panic. Their protests feel painfully human: Was it because there were no graves in Egypt that you brought us to the desert to die? It’s the voice we all know when pressure closes in and the future feels impossible. And into that fear, Moses speaks words that settle deeply into the heart of any congregation marking its years: Do not be afraid. Stand firm and you’ll see the deliverance the Lord will bring you today… the Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still (Exodus 14:13–14).

A church anniversary is a moment to breathe in those words again, to remember how many times God has made a way where none seemed open, and to trust that he’s still leading, still guiding, still walking ahead with a faithfulness that doesn’t falter. Even at home, I’m grateful for the journey so far and hopeful for the road still unfolding.

Running in Wet Weather

Running in wet weather carries its own quiet appeal. Rain softens the landscape, adds a shimmer to the pavements, and turns an ordinary route into something slightly untamed. Once you’re out in it, it’s often gentler than it first appeared, and there’s a subtle satisfaction in settling into the rhythm of moving through the rain rather than resisting it. Letting go of the idea of staying dry frees you to notice the atmosphere around you; the muted colours, the hum of rainfall, the way everything feels closer and more alive.

Wet ground changes how you run. Roads can become slick, leaves stick underfoot, and puddles can send a cold shock up your legs. Those small challenges encourage a more attentive stride, keeping you balanced and steady, rather than pushing for pace when the conditions ask for care. The rain sharpens your senses in unexpected ways; sound seems clearer, breath feels cleaner, and each step lands with more intention.

A few simple choices make wet-weather running more comfortable. A light, breathable layer helps fend off the chill without overheating. A cap can stop rain from blurring your vision. Since damp fabric can rub, a little anti-chafe balm and a good pair of socks are worthwhile, especially on longer outings. Shoes will inevitably get soaked, yet they dry, and the run tends to stay with you more vividly than the discomfort ever does.

There’s a distinctive clarity that comes from embracing the elements rather than waiting them out. You finish the run damp, tired, and somehow refreshed, reminded that even a grey day can offer its own kind of beauty.

Resurfacing Racism

It struck me again this morning how quickly the boundaries of acceptable public discourse have shifted. For years, it felt as though the UK was making genuine progress in challenging racism and nurturing a more generous, inclusive spirit. There was a shared sense that, while we weren’t perfect, we were moving in the right direction, learning to speak with more care, and recognising the dignity of every neighbour. Yet the regression we’re witnessing didn’t appear out of nowhere. You can trace a clear line back to the years of Brexit campaigning, when inflammatory language became normalised, and figures like Nigel Farage helped move harsh, exclusionary rhetoric from the fringes to the centre of national debate.

Once that boundary was crossed, others followed. What used to be unsayable in public life is now spoken without hesitation, and often with applause. Reform UK, along with a handful of MPs and public commentators, can now voice plainly racist ideas with little, or sometimes no, consequence. The moral guardrails that once held firm seem to have weakened, and we’re left facing a culture in which prejudice is treated as a legitimate political stance rather than a breach of the values we claim to cherish.

It’s painful to watch, because it reminds us how fragile progress can be, and how easily it’s undone when fear is stirred, and division is rewarded. Yet naming what’s happening matters, because racism thrives in silence. If we’re to rebuild a kinder, more truthful public square, we’ll need the courage to call out the rot, to speak with honesty, and to keep insisting that a better, more generous Britain is still possible.

Truth’s Melody in Creation

Psalm 98 rises like a bright dawn, calling us to lift our voices because God’s faithful love keeps breaking into the world, renewing what’s weary and reclaiming what’s lost. It remembers that God has made his salvation known and revealed his righteousness to the nations, and those words feel especially powerful when justice and truth seem fragile.

The psalm reminds us that God’s rescue isn’t hidden or selective; it’s public, generous, and rooted in a goodness that refuses to be diluted by human failure. When we’re tempted to believe that dishonesty carries the day, Psalm 98 quietly insists that truth still has weight, still has substance, still has a heartbeat.

The invitation to sing a new song becomes more than poetic instruction; it’s a gentle protest against despair. New songs rise when truth has been defended, when justice has been honoured, when mercy has touched what was broken. They rise when people refuse to succumb to cynicism, choosing instead to trust that God’s character remains steady. And while the psalm shimmers with joy, it’s not naïve joy. It’s the kind that knows darkness well yet refuses to let darkness write the ending.

Then creation joins in, rivers clapping, mountains shouting for joy, the whole earth exhaling praise as the true judge draws near. It isn’t the joy of avoidance, but of alignment. Creation longs for God’s judgement because his judgement isn’t cruel, it’s right. It sets things straight, restores dignity, exposes lies, and shelters the vulnerable. In a world where truth can be bent and justice delayed, the image of God coming to judge with equity feels like a deep breath for the soul.

Psalm 98 invites us into that hope, to stand with creation and sing, trusting that the God who loves truth and upholds justice is already at work, already moving, already drawing near.

Another Green World (Brian Eno)

Another Green World was released fifty years ago today (14 November 1975), and it remains one of Brian Eno’s most influential records. Made during a period of transition in his career, it marks the moment when his interest in structured songs and his experiments with ambient sound began to blend. Sitting between Taking Tiger Mountain (By Strategy) and the fully ambient Music for Airports, it captures that shift happening in real time. About half the tracks feature vocals, while the rest are instrumentals shaped from tape treatments, early synthesisers, and Eno’s emerging Oblique Strategies approach to creative problem-solving.

Many pieces grew out of studio exploration, with musicians like Phil Collins, Percy Jones, and Robert Fripp improvising ideas that Eno later edited, repitched, or rebuilt. This process produced a collection of concise, carefully sculpted tracks, even when their origins were loose. St. Elmo’s Fire, with Fripp’s brilliantly serrated guitar line, sits comfortably beside quiet sketches like Becalmed and In Dark Trees, showing how easily the album moves between songcraft, texture, and atmosphere.

Another Green World made little commercial impact on release, but its importance has only increased. Its blend of ambient colour, inventive production, and understated melodic clarity shaped the development of electronic music, post-rock, art-pop, and film scoring. It’s now widely recognised as a landmark, not just in Eno’s catalogue, but in modern music as a whole.

Fifty years on, it hasn’t aged so much as matured into its own quiet authority. Each listen nudges me towards stillness, wonder, and a way of paying attention that feels almost like contemplation. It remains one of my favourite records because it never stops opening, and because it keeps teaching me how to breathe.

Fighting for Truth Today

In an age where information moves at the speed of a click, fighting for truth has become one of our most essential responsibilities. The battle begins within ourselves.

Before sharing anything, pause. That moment between encountering a claim and forwarding it is where truth often lives or dies. Ask yourself: Do I actually know this is true? Or am I sharing it because it confirms what I already believe?

Getting comfortable with uncertainty is crucial. There’s power in saying “I don’t know.” This means actively seeking information that challenges our beliefs and checking multiple sources. The most viral content is rarely the most accurate, it’s the most emotionally provocative.

Learn to distinguish between facts, interpretations, and opinions. A fact is verifiable. An interpretation adds meaning. An opinion adds judgment. Conflating them is how truth gets obscured.

In our communities, respond to misinformation with curiosity rather than contempt: “Where did you see that?” This keeps dialogue open. Support quality journalism financially when possible, truth-seeking requires resources.

The hardest part isn’t about facts at all. It’s maintaining the social fabric that makes truth-seeking possible. Preserve relationships across disagreements. Acknowledge when your own “side” gets things wrong. Recognize that most people spreading falsehoods aren’t acting maliciously.

Most importantly, stay engaged without becoming cynical. Cynicism, believing there’s no truth or everyone’s lying, isn’t sophistication. It’s surrender. Truth exists, even when it’s hard to find. Every pause before sharing, every source you check, every curious question you ask contributes to a world where truth has a fighting chance.

See also: Truth Under Siege Today

Truth Under Siege Today

The sheer volume of fake news and misinformation circulating today threatens not only trust in news media but the very fabric of democracy itself. When truth becomes subjective and every claim seems to have an alternative version, people struggle to discern what’s real and what’s fabricated.

This erosion of confidence in credible journalism allows lies to spread faster than facts, feeding cynicism and division.

As people retreat into echo chambers that confirm their biases, public debate becomes polarised, and the shared foundation of truth on which democratic societies depend begins to crumble. Journalists, once trusted to hold power to account, are dismissed as biased or corrupt, while conspiracy theorists and influencers with no accountability gain vast audiences. In such a climate, reasoned discussion gives way to outrage, and manipulation becomes easier for those seeking to sow discord or exploit fear for political gain.

Ultimately, misinformation isn’t just a problem of falsehoods, it’s an attack on the common understanding that democracy requires: informed citizens capable of making fair and rational choices.

Rebuilding that trust means defending the principles of accuracy, transparency, and integrity in public communication, and encouraging people to seek truth rather than comfort in what they choose to believe.

See also: Fighting for Truth Today

World Kindness Day

Kindness is simple, just a kind word, a thoughtful gesture, or a small act of compassion. It doesn’t require effort or expense. Yet, it can transform someone’s day, bringing light to their world.

When we choose kindness, we open the door to compassion. Each act fosters a ripple effect, spreading warmth, understanding, and connection. In doing so, we don’t just improve someone’s mood, we help to build a more empathetic, caring world.

It’s not about grand gestures. It’s about presence. It’s about noticing someone’s struggle, offering a smile, or listening without judgment. These moments matter, because they remind others that they are seen, valued, and not alone.

Kindness is free. And in a world that often feels fast and cold, it’s one of the most powerful forces we have.

The mess we’re in…

The Labour Government inherited a mess, an economy weakened by years of mismanagement, broken public services, crumbling infrastructure, and a deep erosion of trust in politics itself. They’re now adding to that mess in some ways, through poor communication, mixed messaging, and a tendency to shoot themselves in the foot just when they most need stability and clarity. Yet beneath the noise, there are real achievements that the public rarely hears about, serious efforts to repair what’s broken, rebuild international credibility, and steer Britain back toward fairness, competence, and decency.

The tragedy is that these good things are being drowned out by internal squabbles and self-inflicted wounds. Each time the party turns on itself or fails to explain its vision clearly, it chips away at the fragile confidence of those who placed their hope in change. Hitting the self-destruct button again and again doesn’t just harm the government, it harms the country, which desperately needs a period of calm, focus, and long-term rebuilding.

The last thing Britain needs right now is another leadership crisis or, worse, a premature General Election. That would hand a golden opportunity to populists like Nigel Farage (one of the architects of the current mess) whose brand of grievance and division offers no real solutions, only more chaos. The country deserves better than endless turbulence; it needs grown-up politics, honest communication, and the courage to stay the course long enough to make genuine recovery possible.

Remembrance Day (Naomi Ager)

On the eleventh hour of the day,
When silent, solemn people pray,
A brazen standard slowly raised,
And every passing thought it fazed.

A bugle holds its notes depressed,
It grips the grief within its breast,
Awakening from a quiet sleep,
The mournful memories that we keep.

The Last Post call begins to climb,
Above the march of wounded time,
A rising sound, so clear and high,
A final poignant, last goodbye.

It is the soldier’s evening bell,
That duties over, all is well.
The mind recalls a distant sound,
Of footprints lost on foreign ground.

A memory stirs, the lists we keep,
Of Grandfathers who did live…or sleep.
They bore the shield, they saw the cost,
the battle won, the loved ones lost.

The shell did burst, the flash of white…
Such darkness born within the light.
The shrapnel’s kiss upon the brow…
A battle fought, still fighting now.

Though home he stood, a heavy toll,
A silence broken in his soul.
This memory allowed no full release,
of one who gave his mind for peace.

The crimson poppies newly laid,
The costly heavy debt that’s paid.
The world hold still for one brief space,
with sorrow etched on every face.

In two small minutes, fast and slow,
the deepest truths of war come through.
And when the final note ascends,
The price was paid for me and you.