Bible 40 Themes 05 Obedience

Obedience isn’t always dramatic. It rarely makes headlines. More often, it’s quiet, costly, and unseen. In 1 Samuel 15, Saul had won a victory, yet he’d adjusted God’s command to suit his own judgement. He kept what looked valuable and offered sacrifice as a spiritual covering for partial obedience. Samuel’s words cut through the smoke of religious performance: “Does the Lord delight in burnt offerings and sacrifices as much as in obeying the Lord? To obey is better than sacrifice, and to heed is better than the fat of rams.”

There’s something in us that prefers sacrifice to obedience. Sacrifice can feel impressive; it’s visible, measurable, even public. Obedience, though, is humbler. It means trusting that God’s way is wiser than our instincts. It means surrendering the part of the command we’d rather reinterpret. Saul’s mistake wasn’t outright rebellion in his own eyes, it was selective obedience. He did much of what God asked, but not all. Yet love that edits God’s voice is no longer love rooted in trust.

“To obey is better than sacrifice” reminds us that God desires hearts aligned with him, not gestures designed to compensate for disobedience. We can serve tirelessly, give generously, sing passionately, and still avoid the simple, searching call to heed his voice in the everyday. Obedience might mean forgiving when resentment feels justified, telling the truth when silence would protect us, choosing integrity when compromise would be easier.

Obedience flows from relationship. Samuel speaks of obeying the Lord, not merely obeying a rule. The invitation is personal. God isn’t hungry for ritual; he longs for trust. When we obey, we declare that his character is good, his wisdom reliable, his purposes kinder than our own plans. That kind of obedience shapes us quietly over time. It forms humility, deepens faith, and anchors our lives in something steadier than impulse.

In a world impressed by spectacle, God still listens for the softer sound of a willing heart. Not grand offerings, but faithful footsteps. Not impressive sacrifice, but attentive love.

Bible Themes in 40 Posts

Each post in the series Bible Themes in 40 Posts covers one key theme of the Bible. It aims to present a simple overview of Bible to understand its overall message, the inherent theme at its heart, and to show the centrality of Jesus in both Old and New Testaments.

The series serves as a basic reference point, as a simple Lent Course, or as a 40 day devotional to be used at any time. Each post contains links to the previous and next posts in the sequence, these will open in a new tab. You can find an index page here.

It’s for those of all faiths and none. I hope it’ll clear up any misunderstandings or negative perceptions and that you’ll find it helpful.

Ash Wednesday

Ash Wednesday marks the beginning of Lent in the Christian calendar, a forty day season of reflection and preparation leading up to Easter. It’s observed by many Christians across denominations, including Roman Catholic, Anglican, Lutheran, and Methodist traditions.

The day takes its name from the practice of placing ashes on the forehead, usually in the shape of a cross. The ashes are traditionally made by burning the palm branches from the previous year’s Palm Sunday services. They serve as a symbol of human mortality, repentance, and the need for spiritual renewal. During the service, words such as, “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return,” are often spoken, drawing attention to the fragility and brevity of life.

Ash Wednesday isn’t a public holiday in the UK, but it’s widely recognised within churches and Christian communities. Many people attend a special service, while others choose to mark the day privately through prayer or quiet reflection.

Lent, which begins on Ash Wednesday, has historically been associated with fasting and self discipline. Some Christians give up certain foods, habits, or luxuries during this period, while others take on positive practices such as acts of charity, reading scripture, or volunteering. The purpose isn’t simply self denial, but a renewed focus on faith, compassion, and personal growth.

Although Ash Wednesday has ancient roots, it continues to hold relevance today. It offers a moment to pause, consider life’s priorities, and begin a season of intentional living. For many believers, it’s a reminder of both human limits and the hope of Easter that lies ahead.

Shrove Tuesday

Shrove Tuesday is the day before Ash Wednesday and marks the last day before the start of Lent in the Christian calendar. It’s observed in many countries, though in the UK it’s most commonly associated with Pancake Day. The tradition of eating pancakes developed as a practical way to use up rich foods such as eggs, milk, and butter before the fasting season of Lent began.

The name “Shrove Tuesday” comes from the old English word shrive, meaning to confess or receive absolution. Historically, it was a day when Christians were encouraged to reflect on their lives, seek forgiveness, and prepare spiritually for Lent. In medieval England, people would attend confession on this day in order to enter Lent with a clear conscience.

Over time, Shrove Tuesday also became linked with wider community customs. In some places, it was a day for feasting and social gatherings before the more restrained weeks that followed. Traditional foods varied, but pancakes became popular because they were simple, filling, and made from ingredients that households wanted to finish before Lent.

Today, Shrove Tuesday is often celebrated in a more secular way, with pancake breakfasts, school events, and pancake races. Many churches still observe its religious meaning, using it as a reminder of the themes of repentance, renewal, and preparation. It provides an opportunity to pause before Lent begins, whether that involves giving something up, taking on a new discipline, or simply becoming more mindful.

Although modern celebrations tend to focus on food and fun, Shrove Tuesday remains rooted in a long tradition of marking a transition, from ordinary routines to a season of reflection leading towards Easter.

Bible 40 Themes 04 Faith

Faith is one of the Bible’s most quietly powerful gifts. It isn’t loud, or showy, or always certain of the next step. More often, faith is the steady courage to keep walking when the road ahead is hidden by mist. Scripture doesn’t present faith as a flawless emotional confidence, but as a deep trust rooted in God’s character and promises.

Hebrews offers a simple and beautiful definition: “Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see” (Hebrews 11:1). That verse carries such tenderness. Faith isn’t pretending we have all the answers. It’s holding on to hope when answers haven’t arrived yet. It’s trusting that God is still present, still working, even when our eyes cannot trace his hand.

The stories of faith throughout the Bible are full of ordinary people stepping forward with trembling hearts. Abraham left home without knowing where he was going. Moses stood before Pharaoh with nothing but God’s promise. Ruth walked into an uncertain future guided only by loyalty and love. None of them had a clear map, but they had God, and that was enough to take the next step.

Faith, then, is less about certainty and more about relationship. It grows not through control, but through surrender. It deepens when we pray honestly, when we wait patiently, when we keep choosing trust over fear. Faith isn’t a demand to feel strong, but an invitation to lean on the strength of God.

Sometimes faith feels solid like a mountain. Sometimes it feels fragile like a candle flame. Yet even the smallest faith, placed in the hands of a faithful God, can shine through darkness. Faith isn’t measured by how steady we feel, but by who we are holding on to.

If you’re carrying questions today, you’re not alone. Faith doesn’t erase doubt, but it invites us to bring our doubt into God’s presence. The invitation of Hebrews is simple: keep hoping, keep trusting, keep stepping forward, because God is trustworthy, even when the way is unseen.

And perhaps this is the quiet miracle of faith, that step by step, we discover we were never walking alone.

Bible 40 Themes 03 Promise

Promise is a word we learn early, often through the ache of disappointment. We discover, sometimes painfully, that human promises are fragile things, shaped by good intentions but limited by weakness, forgetfulness, fear, or changing circumstances. Yet Paul speaks into that shared human experience with a steady, hope-filled assurance when he writes that no matter how many promises God has made, they are “Yes” in Christ. It’s a sweeping claim, not naïve optimism, but a grounded declaration rooted in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus.

God’s promises aren’t abstract ideas floating above history. They’re woven through the long, messy story of scripture, promises of blessing, justice, mercy, restoration, forgiveness, and new life. Some seem delayed, others contested, and many misunderstood. But Paul insists they find their coherence, their fulfilment, and their trustworthiness in Christ. Jesus isn’t simply one more promise among many. He’s the living confirmation that God means what God says.

In Christ, the promises of God aren’t merely spoken, they’re embodied. When God promises forgiveness, we see it in Jesus eating with sinners and praying for his executioners. When God promises new life, we see it in empty tombs and transformed lives. When God promises presence, we hear Jesus say, quietly but decisively, that he’s with us always. The “Yes” of God isn’t a distant agreement but a costly commitment, sealed in love and faithfulness.

This matters deeply for how we live. Faith isn’t about clinging to isolated verses or hoping hard enough that things will turn out well. It’s about trusting the character of God revealed in Christ. Even when circumstances feel like a resounding “No”, even when prayers seem unanswered, the deeper promise still stands. God hasn’t withdrawn, changed his mind, or lost interest. The story isn’t finished yet.

To live as people of promise, then, is to anchor ourselves in Christ, returning again and again to that central truth. God’s promises are not dependent on our performance or certainty. They rest in God’s own faithfulness. In Christ, God has already said “Yes”, and that yes continues to echo through our doubts, our waiting, and our hope, steady, resilient, and alive.

Beyond Roses and Romance

Love is everywhere, isn’t it, if we have eyes to see. In the warmth of family, in the laughter of children, in the steady companionship of a faithful dog, in friendships formed through shared life and service. Love shows up in the simple joys that make life feel full, music that stirs the soul, learning that stretches the mind, beauty that catches our breath, and the deep gratitude of simply being alive.

And yet, above and through all these loves flows something greater, God’s perfect love, the love that gives meaning and purpose to every other love we experience. Jesus says he has come that we may have life, and have it to the full, not a shallow happiness, but a rich, rooted life held in God’s hands.

Scripture celebrates this love of life. The psalmist stands in wonder at creation, delighting in the works of the Lord. Another psalm paints love in the ordinary holiness of home, shared tables, companionship, and blessing. Romans reminds us that even in sorrow, God is still the source of hope, filling us with joy and peace as we trust in him. For with him is the fountain of life, and in his light we see light.

Human love longs to endure, as Shakespeare wrote, an ever-fixèd mark, unshaken by storms. Song of Songs declares love as fierce as fire, stronger than death, unquenchable by deep waters. And in Christ, we see love made flesh, steadfast, sacrificial, and true.

So today, we give thanks for every love that colours our lives, and we rest in the greatest love of all. God’s love, endless, faithful, beyond all price. May our hearts be softened by it, and may our lives quietly overflow with it, as we go in peace to love and to serve.

Note: This devotional is based on worship I led at Stockton Salvation Army on Sunday 15 February 2026, you can see my full notes by clicking here.

Don’t scapegoat immigrants!

A billionaire worth around £17 billion who has moved his tax residence to Monaco is now criticising immigration and suggesting migrants are a major cause of Britain’s problems.

Whatever your view on immigration, it’s hard to ignore the hypocrisy. When extremely wealthy individuals avoid paying large amounts of tax in the UK, it weakens the funding base for public services like the NHS, schools, and local councils.

This kind of rhetoric risks turning working people against migrants, while far bigger pressures come from inequality, underfunding, and a system that allows the richest to opt out of contributing fairly.

If we want honest solutions, we should focus less on scapegoating newcomers and more on holding the powerful to account.

Stuck in the Mud

Waiting can feel like being stuck in the mud, energy draining away as each step sinks deeper. Psalm 40:1-8 gives language to that experience, the long, faithful waiting that isn’t passive but aching with hope. “I waited patiently for the Lord,” the psalmist says, and then comes the turning point, God inclines, listens, and lifts. The rescue is physical and emotional, drawn up from the slimy pit and set on rock, stability replacing fear.

A new song follows, not forced praise, but gratitude born of being held when escape seemed impossible.

Mark 2:1-12 shows us that same rescue. A paralysed man is carried by friends who refuse to let obstacles have the final say. Their faith climbs, digs, lowers, and trusts. Jesus sees it and speaks words that go deeper than anyone expects: “Son, your sins are forgiven.” Before strength returns to limbs, wholeness begins in the heart. The teachers object, but Jesus names what God has always been doing, healing that reaches beneath the surface. The man is lifted up, and feet made firm. A new song walking out into the street.

These passages remind us that God’s rescue is never shallow. He hears the cry, heals what’s hidden, and steadies our lives from the inside out. True worship isn’t empty offering, but a heart that can finally say, “I desire to do your will, my God,” because it’s known what it is to be forgiven, lifted, and made whole.

Holocaust Memorial Day

Holocaust Memorial Day calls us into a sacred kind of remembering, not distant or abstract, but close to the heart, where names, faces, and stories matter. We remember the six million Jewish lives stolen, alongside Roma, disabled people, LGBTQ+ people, political dissidents, and so many others whose humanity was denied. We don’t remember to wallow in despair, we remember because love demands truth, and because forgetting is the first step towards repeating.

Scripture doesn’t offer easy comfort here, but it does offer presence. “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit,” the psalmist writes, and we cling to that promise for every life shattered by hatred. The cry of Micah still confronts us with holy clarity: God requires us “to act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.” Remembrance, then, is not passive, it’s a call to live differently.

We hold the tension between grief and hope. We name the darkness honestly, because anything less would betray the truth, yet we also dare to believe with John’s gospel that “the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” That light flickers in every act of resistance to hatred, every stand against prejudice, every choice to protect the dignity of another.

Today, we remember with reverence, we lament with sincerity, and we commit ourselves again to compassion, justice, and courageous love, trusting that God’s memory is deeper than ours, and that no life, no story, no tear is ever forgotten.