iChaplain

  A Familiar Landscape Even if you have never opened a Bible, there is a good chance you have heard Psalm 23. It appears at funerals, in films, and in quiet moments when people are searching for words that carry comfort. There is something about it that feels familiar, like a landscape you somehow recognise, even if you have never walked it before. Perhaps it endures not just because it is well known, but because it speaks to something deeply human: the desire to feel safe, guided, and not alone. Being Known and Cared For The psalm begins: “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.” For those who approach it from faith, this is a statement of trust in God’s care. For others, it can still be heard as a powerful image. A shepherd is not distant or abstract. A shepherd pays attention, stays close, and guides with care. And then there is that second phrase: “I shall not want.” Many of us spend much of life aware of what we lack, time, security, clarity, peace of mind. This line gently...

There are times in life when words like joy can feel slightly out of place. We hear them, we read them, and we know they matter. Yet there are moments when they do not quite match our experience. Not because we disagree with them, but because life, as we are living it, feels very different.  And it raises an honest question.  What does joy really mean, when it does not feel like joy at all? When Pain Takes Over Everything Recently, I had toothache.  Not just mild discomfort, but the kind that takes over completely, the sort that brings sleepless nights, constant throbbing, and deep, exhausting pain that is hard to ignore. It reminded me of something similar I experienced over twenty years ago. The intensity was the same. Once again, everything else seemed to fade into the background because this was all I could feel. And during that time, I can honestly say this. I was not thinking, “This is wonderful.” I was not thinking, “I am really enjoying this.” It was quite the opp...

There are moments in life when everything seems to slow down.  A waiting room late in the evening.  A quiet house after difficult news.  A long pause in a conversation where no one quite knows what to say.  These are the moments when the usual distractions fall away, and we are left with our thoughts.  And sometimes, almost without warning, a question surfaces:  If there is a God, where are you right now? Not always as a challenge. Not even always with anger.  Sometimes it feels more like a quiet reaching, honest and unguarded.  But this question does not only arise in private moments.  It can also come while watching the news, or listening to what is happening in the world. Stories of conflict, suffering and loss can leave us with the same quiet, unsettled thought: Where is God in all of this? For many people, the question of suffering does not begin as an abstract idea. It begins here, in ordinary life and in the world around us: when somet...

When Jesus teaches us to pray in the Lord’s Prayer (Matthew 6:9–13; Luke 11:1–4), there is a really difficult line in it: “forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us.” Wow. That is challenging. It’s one thing to ask God for forgiveness. Most of us know what it is to get things wrong. We all have regrets, mistakes, moments we wish we could redo. Asking for forgiveness can feel natural, even necessary. But then Jesus links it to something much harder. That same forgiveness must flow through us to others. Suddenly, this prayer becomes more than comforting words. It becomes a mirror. The Measure We Use Jesus isn’t suggesting forgiveness as an optional extra for especially kind people. He puts it right at the centre of prayer. Forgive us as we forgive. In other words, the way we deal with others becomes part of our relationship with God. That’s uncomfortable. Because if we’re honest, forgiveness can feel impossible. Some wounds go deep. Some words linger. Some acti...

T here are some words that carry a lot of emotional weight. Sin is one of them. For many people it comes with a lifetime of baggage: shame, fear, memories of being told off, or the sense that God is standing over us with a clipboard. It is no wonder people flinch when they hear it. But the heart of the Gospel is not about God pointing out what is wrong with us. It is about God wanting us back. Wherever you find yourself today, whether faith feels familiar or distant, this reflection is for you. It is for anyone who has ever wondered what God is really like, or what it might mean to turn toward Him again. When Sin Looks Less Like Shame and More Like Healing When we speak about sin, we are not talking about a list of failures. At its heart, sin is simply the name we give to the moments when we drift from the life God invites us into. It is the distance that opens up between who we are right now and the person we were created to become. Most of us recognise that distance. We feel it in t...

“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.” — John 14:27 In a world that rarely slows down, where anxiety lingers and uncertainty feels constant, the promise of peace can feel distant. Yet in John 14:27, Jesus offers something profoundly different: not just peace, but his peace. This is not a fleeting feeling. It is a gift, deep, steady, and enduring. An Inspiration from Pentecost Recently, I attended a Pentecost celebration at Durham Cathedral, where people came together to celebrate the gift of the Holy Spirit and God’s work in the world today. The speaker was Sam Ward from The Message Trust, and part of his message centred on the peace of Christ, which is something that stayed with me. This blog post is, in part, a reflection inspired by that message. When Peace Becomes Personal A few years ago, I went through a particularly difficult time. My dad was battling cancer. He had undergon...