St Peter – the final three rounds in the ring with Jesus, before the knockout punch

Probably the title should be And Then? But I wanted the title to give some clues.

The essence of this post is to say that what happened to Peter will, in some very different shape or form, happen to us…if we’re even half-serious about following Christ.

We like Peter because of his spontaneity, bravery, commitment, and his faith, but why do we also warm to him through his failures? He is the flawed hero. Even after Pentecost, he strayed and had to be called back into line by the Apostle Paul.

Round 1. The denial of Christ
Round 2. His view of the women
Round 3. The beach…and knockout

Round 1.

Peter, from love and devotion, said ‘Even if everyone is made to stumble because of you, I will never be made to stumble. Even if I have to die with you, I will not deny you’ Mt26v33,35. Jesus replied, I suggest, calmly and without rancour, ‘Truly, I say to you that this night before the rooster crows, you will deny me three times’ v34

Jesus had exposed to Peter his fear, self-deception, and self-delusion.

Round 2.

Mary Magdalene and the other women with her returned to the disciples to report that they had seen the resurrected Jesus.

‘Their words seemed to the disciples as old wives’ tales, and they did not believe them’ Luke 24v11

Of course, Peter, despite his initial lack of belief, ran to the tomb to find it empty.

In Mark’s gospel, we read about the repercussions of this lack of respect from the men towards the women: ‘Later Jesus appeared to the eleven…and he rebuked them for their unbelief and hardness of heart, because they did not believe the women who had seen him after He had risen’ Mark 16v14

In Round 2, Jesus had exposed Peter’s (and the other male disciples’) lack of respect towards the women who had sacrificed a great deal, including their collective act of devotion to Christ, by talking spices to anoint the body of Christ, before dawn…whilst the men, no doubt, slept.

No wonder, Jesus’ opening word into the room after His appearance was, ‘Peace’

No wonder, Jesus’ opening word into the room after His appearance was, ‘Peace.’ The tension between the men and the women had just been disclosed and was out in the open. It would not be unreasonable, I suggest, to assume that after Jesus’s rebuke, Peter, and the other male disciples went over to the women and apologised. Sheepishly. (In another post, we might look at this same humbling process happening amongst the women followers of Jesus).

Round 3.

Peter, recognising Jesus, leaps out of the boat shouting, ‘It is the Lord!’ and they enjoy the breakfast that Jesus had prepared.

‘When they had eaten, Jesus said to Simon Peter, ‘Simon son of Jonah, do you love me more than these?’ John 20v15

As many have noted before me, Jesus asks him the same question three times to counter the three times Peter denied knowing Him. The final time that Jesus asked Peter was the knockout punch. ‘Do you love Me?’ Peter answers, if I may be permitted to use the old English, as it is so succinct, ‘Thou knowest’.

As I see it, Peter knew that his whole life and the future would now be wrapped up, not relying upon his own ability to love, or any deluded sense of his superiority to over women, or the other disciples, but on these two words ‘Thou knowest’.

The other apostle, Apostle Paul, would write a few decades later to the Galatians ‘…but now, after you have known God, or rather are known by God…’ Gal 4v9

Jesus had exposed the ultimate truth, that Peter could not rely on himself; in fact, he had not been created to rely on himself, or his faith, love, or knowledge of God as an autonomous individual, but flooded and sustained by Christ Himself ‘Thou knowest’ is all he was left with.

Barriers had come down. There was a sweetness amongst them.

The knockout blow was delivered with love, in a conversation about love for Christ, not a fierce rebuke or an emotional meltdown. Knowing everything that had happened since meeting Peter, Jesus’s final words are as it was at the beginning: ‘Follow Me’ John 20v19

I wrote at the beginning, the title for this perhaps should have been ‘And Then?’

My hunch.

After the ascension, the disciples were instructed by Jesus to return to Jerusalem and to wait for the baptism in the Holy Spirit.

We know that this period of waiting in Jerusalem lasted 10 days. There were 40 days after the resurrection before the ascension, and 50 days between the crucifixion at Passover and Pentecost.

My contention is this. Peter was unusually quiet. At peace with himself and with his fellow disciples and the women. In the opening verses of chapter two of Acts, we read: ‘When the Day of Pentecost had fully come, they were all in one place in one accord’

Barriers had come down. There was a sweetness amongst them. And amazement looking back over the recent events since Passover, the resurrection appearances, but also the previous three years. Many recollections. All this was circulating among them, but their love for Christ, and obedience to His word is writ large in the following words: ‘The (eleven) all continued with one accord in prayer and supplication with the women’ Acts 1v14

Peter is recorded as functioning in his calling to ‘feed My sheep’, but it was a very different Peter that stood up and initiated the election of Matthias to take Judas’s place.

We read that the number of the disciples, the women, and other followers was about 120 (Acts 1v15.

What happened next, happened amongst a group of disciples, men and women, numbering about 120, sitting and waiting in prayer:

‘And suddenly, there came a sound from heaven, as of a rushing mighty wind, and it filled the whole house where they were sitting. Then, there appeared to them different divided tongues as of fire, sat upon each of them, and they were all filled with the Holy Spirit and started speaking in other tongues as the Spirit gave them utterance’ Acts 2 v 2-4

What can we learn from this?

Just as Jesus exposed the truth about Peter, to Peter, He will do the same for each of us until any thought of reliance on our own powers or abilities, even our ability to love, as if we are an autonomous soul, is extinguished. We will lose every argument with Jesus…I hope. God is about maturing in each of us another Jesus, a photocopy. The New Testament put it like this, God is ‘bringing many sons to glory’ Heb 1v10 and, later in the same book, it says ‘let us go on to maturity’ 6v1. CT Studd, the missionary to Africa, put it this way: ‘I want to see Jesus running around in many black bodies.’

Also, that every generation, every believer, needs to receive what Jesus promised, ‘the baptism in the Holy Spirit’. True Christianity is not a man-made religion, propped up by good organisation and planning, but a spirit-Spirit operation, a true communion between God and man.

The two are linked, and the timetable for how these lessons dovetail is in God’s hands. Many years ago, I sought the baptism in the Holy Spirit. I had believed but seemed to lack the power that Jesus promised, ‘You will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes upon you’ Acts 1v8. I asked a trusted friend to pray with me. As he prayed, I heard the Lord in an inaudible voice tell me ‘Until you hand over these two areas in your life, I cannot use you in power’. It took months, maybe two years, to obey and go on to experience greater power.

Going to Church this morning?Religious Landscape in England

Source: Google AI

• 270,000 Jews live in England, of which 56% are members of synagogues. Weekly attendance figures of all synagogues are not available

• 3.8 million Muslims live in England, of which 25% attend the mosque regularly i.e. 950,000

• 46.3% of the whole population of England identify as Christian, but approximately 6% attend church services each week i.e. 4 million

• 36% of the population of England identify as having no faith

(in comparison: 1.5 million attend a live football match each week)

A question: if someone wanted to become a Jew, or a Muslim, or a Christian – what steps would have to be taken?

My hunch: most answers would concentrate on outward ceremonies - such as baptism, to become a Christian, and attendance at services.

My second hunch: the vast majority of English individuals, despite the long history of Christianity in England, the number of church buildings, and RE lessons in school, have no idea how to answer the question What is a Christian?

Love the Lord your God with all your heart…

With all my invisibles?
Even to love Marmite
Or Christmas
Or the curve of a breast
Or the thud of a rugby ball
Or, well…an endless list

It is what we do:
All things subside into
Quicksand
When love bangs on the door
Money drains away
Mental fortitude is breached

Nations abandoned
The fridge is cleaned
We are flung so far
From normal
To find ourselves
Floundering in a river of love

Without questioning
Its mystery source.
I once left all, and
Followed a stream to its
Unstoppable spring
Its subterranean invisibles

The carved-out cause
Of a riverbed
Of its carps and lillies,
Bends and gushings,
Quietness and dragonflies
All this life, not of itself

Just Beyond

Just beyond my flesh
And its fine hairs
Lies an atmosphere,
The scents of me,
And then?

And then there’s you
Empty of God, maybe
Or removing your shoes
Or metronome praying
Or altar kneeling

Can I touch you
My neighbour?
Is your door open?
Your food, my food?
Your air, my air?

If your nerves edge
So do mine
If you’re too bold
Or too loud
I shall wait

Until you turn for home
And smell the oregano
And taste the peppers
Filled with a light
Born from above

And just beyond my flesh
Lies an invisible person
The one you can’t see
The one I know partially
The me in me

And this me in me
Who knows God, rather is
Known by God, cannot hide
Behind flesh, but smells
All those breathing me

Be Worshipped in Heaven and on Earth

This week’s poem is a song. Not mine. But from Christian believers, survivors of persecution, living in Mozambique. But, of course, it IS a poem borne out of suffering. Cannot fail to touch our hearts.

Click the link below to listen.

Inamona

Inamona (Testimony ) - Music from the village of Mieze

Be worshipped in Heaven and on Earth
Be worshipped, Jesus
Be worshipped in the rolling hills
And the plains
Be worshipped in the bush and the bustling town

Worshipped, yes, worshipped, Jesus

He has saved me
My heart rests in you secure
He has saved me
I give thanks for the love of Jesus

I call upon you Yahweh
Come and soothe my longing heart
Holy Spirit come
Come flood my heart with light

I call upon you, Yahweh…

A Sermon for the then Prince Charles…and us

A sermon preached by Colin Urqhart almost forty years ago about the then-Prince Charles has come back to speak to me in 2026.

 To summarise: ‘Ever since his birth, every part of Prince Charles’ life has been a series of circumstances that have prepared his to reign. What he learnt, how he reacted, and acted has formed a character that he will bring to the throne when he reigns as King Charles. In the same way, everything we pass through in life prepares us to ‘reign in life’ as Paul puts it and that day, when, by His grace, we kneel before Jesus confessing He is Lord, to receive the crown of life’

A few days ago, I watched a YouTube reel of a Zambian brain surgery team. They had just performed a ten-hour operation on a 12-year-old girl, were exhausted…and yet…they burst out praising and singing, arms raised, clapping, rejoicing in the Lord…right there in the operating theatre with the girl, still anaesthetised, awaiting recovery.

https://www.facebook.com/reel/1443186300782418

I reposted it on my FB page with the phrase ‘THAT’S church’ written above the video. It reminded me of Colin’s sermon - and a series of familiar bible stories

To see brothers and sisters in Christ rejoicing so freely, spontaneously praising and enjoying the Lord was moving, of course, but that’s not all. What struck me was that all these skilful men and women had spent years training, learning, maybe with a string of successes and failures, of strengths and weaknesses, of setbacks and flourishing…whole lives. Everything they had experienced in life had led them to be in that operating theatre performing life-saving surgery.

I only saw the hands lifted, the voices raised, the evident joy, but God saw the whole picture. God sees the heart; when the bible says ‘God SO loved the world’, it is not joking.

From there the following well-known bible incidents came to mind.

‘Get out of your country and from your father’s house and go to a land that I will show you, I will make you a great nation’

Abram, maybe as a child, heard God speak to him, ‘Get out of your country and from your father’s house and go to a land that I will show you, I will make you a great nation’. He had to wait many years, almost a whole lifetime, before the moment arrived and, ready or not, he left all that was familiar, all those years spent in his father’s house. That phase was over. He would never go back. Just like now, King Charles III cannot return to being Prince Charles.

When Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego were thrown into the fiery furnace, King Nebuchadnezzar was astonished, ‘I see four men loose; walking in the midst of the fire and they are not hurt, and the fourth man is like the Son of God’ Dan3v25. This is a true picture of the Christian life. Whatever circumstance we are in, there is the fourth man…and fire. I imagine these three being interviewed years later on a chat show, reminiscing about the greatest time in their lives; the audience eager to hear about the fiery furnace. But they look at each other. ‘It is the time we spent with the Son of God, what He said to us, things we cannot even begin to explain, but those moments prepared us to reign.’ Nebuchadnezzar promoted all three men; it was their lives after their time with the Son of God, reigning in Babylon, that they were full of.

Jesus saw the disciples straining at the oars from his position on the hill overlooking the lake. He had told them to row over to Bethsaida. ‘Now about the fourth watch of the night, He came to them, walking on the sea, and would have passed them by’ Mark 6v48. Peter cried out, ‘If it is you, Lord, bid me come’, and we know what happened next. Sometimes, like the disciples, our worlds shrink when the wind is against us. You can sense the disciples, wet, weary, weak…all thoughts of the excitement of the kingdom, the adventure with Jesus, the baptisms, the miracles, the radical teaching, reduced to the perimeter of the boat and the waves, the sound of the wind, the struggle. And then they see a ghost! Terror grips them. Fear. The truth of their circumstances was undeniable. But it wasn’t the whole truth. Jesus had seen them straining at the oars and had come to where they were struggling. Not just their new friend, Jesus of Nazareth, the man whom they had followed, but the same man who had spent time in a fiery furnace. It is the Lord.

I was reminded that everything in my life had led to this point… true also for you reading this.

Whether we are facing a new call to leave the familiar and push into something new, or in a fiery furnace, or exhausted, can we learn from the Zambian surgeons? It is time to rejoice. It is time to sing.

(Watchman Nee once said, ‘the Christian life is wiping one's tears whilst holding onto the plough’. I want to add one thing: the plough is made of music and dancing and singing. Jesus once said, ‘the stones would cry out’, so ploughs and material objects, the sun, moon, and stars can all praise God.

Lastly, I thought of Paul and Silas. ‘But at midnight Paul and Silas were praying and singing hymns to God, and the prisoners were listening’ Acts 16v25. So much in life had led to this point, just like the Zambian surgical team, yet Paul and Silas in prison for preaching the gospel and causing an economic collapse (read Acts 16) and exhausted, prayed and sang hymns to God at midnight. It means the ‘middle of the night’, those hours where we can so easily be prey to fear, anxiety, unpleasant dreams, and thoughts…they praised God and a miracle followed on. But they would have praised whether or not a miracle was around the corner.

The sight of the Zambian believers singing from the heart in an operating theatre has encouraged me, in far-off North Somerset, reminded me of a sermon almost forty years ago, and a string of biblical passages that prepared others to reign in life…whatever story the outward circumstances might tell, the truth is that everything in our lives and what God has taught us, has prepared us for this moment. The fourth man is with us in the fiery furnace of life. He sees us when we’re exhausted, or in some form of prison.

Why not stand and repeat Psalm 148 with a loud voice? Please forgive my indulgence, quoting the old King James Version with its rich Elizabethan English. Enjoy the reference to dragons!

Psalm 148

Praise ye the Lord. Praise ye the Lord from the heavens: praise him in the heights.

Praise ye him, all his angels: praise ye him, all his hosts.

Praise ye him, sun and moon: praise him, all ye stars of light.

Praise him, ye heavens of heavens, and ye waters that be above the heavens.

Let them praise the name of the Lord: for he commanded, and they were created.

He hath also stablished them for ever and ever: he hath made a decree which shall not pass.

Praise the Lord from the earth, ye dragons, and all deeps:

Fire, and hail; snow, and vapours; stormy wind fulfilling his word:

Mountains, and all hills; fruitful trees, and all cedars:

Beasts, and all cattle; creeping things, and flying fowl:

Kings of the earth, and all people; princes, and all judges of the earth:

Both young men, and maidens; old men, and children:

Let them praise the name of the Lord: for his name alone is excellent; his glory is above the earth and heaven.

He also exalteth the horn of his people, the praise of all his saints; even of the children of Israel, a people near unto him. Praise ye the Lord.

p.s. On my FB page, I wrote ‘THAT is church’. In this post, I am emphasising our response as individuals. In another post, I’ll explain why this is such a good picture of ‘church’.

The Two Moors Walking Challenge Post 9: 1st May, 2026

34 days to go.

Route: Winscombe to Weston-Super-Mare, 16.3km 10.3 miles on 28th April
Route: Winscombe to Wells, 26.8km, 16.7 miles on 29th April

Consecutive Days: The previous consecutive days' walks were to W-s-M, totalling 20.6 miles; this week's dose was 28 miles.

Toe Report: As reported last week, the gel insert seems to have contributed to extending the length I can walk before having to stop to remove my left boot and let the toe recover. On the longer walk to Wells, it began to complain just before reaching Wookey Hole, i.e. about 15 miles. So, it’s still a problem, but less so.

‘Remember, you are never lost, just temporarily disoriented’

Getting lost: Forty years ago, (yes, it really was!) I was training for the Mountain Leaders Certificate in Snowdonia. Our small group leader told us, ‘Remember, you are never lost, just temporarily disoriented’. Whether said tongue-in-cheek or seriously, he didn’t elaborate. But this week, I took a wrong turn leaving Cheddar and veered off course away from The West Mendip Way. Trespassing over some fields, I eventually found someone driving a tractor raking the path of a motocross circuit. Kindly, he got me back on a more sensible path. Above Priddy is a very tall radio mast, so, one way or another, it would have been virtually impossible to have been more than temporarily disoriented – and, I have to confess, quite enjoyable to have to find an alternative route.

Spiritual: On the day of the Wells walk, I woke up at 3am, couldn’t get back to sleep, and was on the road by 4.30am, so I was treated initially to predawn darkness, then to a glorious sunrise and lovely countryside. I may have passed a couple of people in Cheddar, but largely it was a solitary walk. The howling wind was against, blustery and strong…strong enough to overturn numerous large bins and scatter small branches. In other words, hard work and relentlessly uphill.

The word I’d use is a deep sense of satisfaction

Then I became ‘temporarily disoriented’ on the Mendips until Priddy, when weariness kicked in.

But a well-placed hotel, coffee, pain-au-chocolate, and loo, restored one’s soul, until the toe began its complaint nearing Wookey Hole. Spiritually? In retrospect, yes. The word I’d use is a deep sense of satisfaction, having reached the rather beautiful city of Wells, slumping in a chair outside a café in the warm sunshine, enjoying a flat white and a generous slice of bread pudding. I’m reminded of Saul/Paul and Elijah, both of whom were restored in spirit with food and drink.

The link between the material and the spiritual is closer than we think. In biological terms, it’s a semipermeable membrane.

Anaconda Root

The thick black root shed light
on a ruler, curled up,
slumbering in my mind,
and its curious inability
not to measure the fear
of a twitching spider
sizing up a continent of flesh

It’s not inches or stones, more
hunch of impending effort.
Beyond the hand-tearing of soil lies
the serrated edge of a father’s saw.
Its final rasps shower me with
his absent aftershave. I watch
as old fingers fix a new blade.

This anaconda of a root,
proud of girth and curves,
has lain in wait for today’s battle.
Its victories over soil and stone,
an endless stream, until the son of,
defeated by sweat and weakness,
severed its strength.

The excised trunk,
hurled on a discard pile,
destined for the evening’s fire,
with ancient wood-eyes
spoke of such discomfort.
The same look that shrivelled
a dismantled apostle.

This unexpected burden,
an onus of desecration,
filtered away with each
lunge of fork and spade
until the disturbed soil,
raked to a tilth,
exhaled its scent and lay still.

Anaconda Root

A thick black root shed light on the ruler
Curled up, snoozing in my mind
That crimson inability
Not to weigh her eyes
Or quantify the fear
Of a twitching spider
Sizing up a continent of flesh

Nothing to do with inches
More a relativism of effort:
Beyond the tearing of soil
Lies the serrated edge of a father’s saw
The sound of which, the last rasps,
Propels his absent aftershave over me
And the careful placing of a new blade

But this anaconda of a root
Proud of girth and curves
Has lain in wait for such a battle
Its victories over the soil and stone
An endless stream, until the son of
Defeated by sweat and weakness
Ran a different cabled river…

…its excised trunk
Hurled on the discard pile
Destined for an evening’s warmth
Spoke such discomfort to me
With ancient wood-eyes
The same look that shrivelled
A dismantled apostle

An unexpected tonnage
The onus of desecration
Filtered away with each
Plunge of spade and fork
Until the disturbed soil
Raked to a tilth
Exhaled its scent and lay still

The Two Moors Walking Challenge Post 8, 22nd April 2026

34 days to go

Route: Winscombe to Weston-Super-Mare, 16.3km 10.3 miles

Sights: Leaving at 6.30 with sunrise directly behind me creeping over the horizon bathed the world in that warming reddish tinge. After just over 1km, I walked into one of the cider orchards. Two fields juxtaposed: one with zero blossom; the other not only full of blossom but in the sunrise was…I dunno…glorious. As if they were all singing in harmony long, intersecting chords. No, I wasn’t five pints of cider closer to heaven – you would have had to have been there. It was like being caught up in a painting. From there, past Christon and the seemingly unending slog uphill past bluebell woods. Yesterday, three deer stood maybe 50 yards from me, motionless, as I passed. Yesterday, also, views from the ridge over the Somerset Levels and over to Hinkley Point were crystal clear and bathed in morning sunshine. Yesterday was high tide, today, further out, and a stiff walk into a strong breeze whipped up the sand. A shout out to Coffee#1 which has become my oasis at the end of the walk and a place where a flat white and cheesecake can be enjoyed, with left boot off.

Consecutive Days: The Two Moors’ Challenge starts with three consecutive days of walking, starting at Wembury beach, followed by a day off, then four consecutive days finishing in Lynton. This week’s challenge was to experience two consecutive days from Winscombe to Weston, yesterday and today, along the same 10.3 mile route

The 125 and 126 bus:

Yesterday made the 125 well in time from Weston to more or less my drive. Today, I missed the 125 by seconds, but caught the 126 ten minutes later, back by 11.30 after a 6.30 start. If yesterday’s journey was irritating due to someone opening a window and freezing us all to death, plus an Eastern European passenger who thought we’d be entertained by her tinny mobile broadcasting a conversation in her language.

Today the windows were closed, and therefore pleasantly warm; no uninvited incursions on the passengers’ hearing; a mild irritation for the first 5-10 minutes by passenger X, who insisted on eating the foulest-smelling crisps in the Universe. But all was well.

The Toe Report: Since inserting gel soles, I’ve been able to walk further without pain. Also, the pre-blister sore tops of my big toes after yesterday’s had recovered overnight and only caused minor irritation towards the end of this morning’s walk.

Spiritual: Was pondering the place for tradition, firstly as a healthy cultural unifier and secondly, as a trap, a stifling inertia when change is overdue.

The Dog I Never Knew

We’re all palm readers
If we switch off our eyes
And sit at the smelly feet of
Our six-year-old selves
Sneaking an early feel
Of Xmas treasures, lumpy
Beyond the wrapping

Or, hands held out,
Eyes still shut,
We catch the heat
Of a suffering Guy
And learn about
Defeating despots,
Gloves on cold nights

And that living creatures are
Slow-motion fires
With sparkler eyes
And tail-wagging joy
I gaze at my palm and
Grasp the ruff of the
Dog I never knew

The dog I never knew, he’s
The evidence of things not seen:
If I’m Radio 4, his ears prick up
If I’m a helium balloon
He, too, leaps up to heaven
And, if I’m immobilised
His chin and paw find me

He takes me for walks
And reminds me
Of the wide planet to enjoy
Until the days of weakness
And, like seeds, we’re sown,
Our horizons made secure
Incarnate love, off the lead

The Two Moors Walking Challenge – an after Post #7b, 11th April 2026

45 days to go

Route: Wells to Cheddar to Winscombe – approx. 16.5 miles (26.5 km)I paused Strava without realising for a few miles hence 24.62 on Strava

The plan: Saturday, 11th April

1. Catch the 7.20 126 from across the road to Wells - that worked

2. Find the West Mendip Way - following an excellent website’s directions, nearly missed it, but all OK

3. Try to stay en route ‘til Cheddar, then I know the way back to Winscombe - lost touch with the route the other side of Wookey Hole, road walking instead of footpaths up to Priddy

Pace
It took 7 hours and 5 minutes with a few refuelling, loo, left boot off, and conversation stops. Walking time 4 hours 39 minutes, average pace 11.20 mins per km, or 17.27 min per km overall.

Weather
Classic April. Cool wind. Sunshine with sharp, fast-moving showers, and horizontal hail. Glad I remembered a waterproof jacket and trousers.

Stunning Views
Wells itself is beautiful. Mental note to visit soon, just to mooch about. Wide, wide views from the Mendip ridge overlooking Glastonbury and the Somerset Levels and over to Crook Peak, the Bristol Channel to Wales. Perhaps the most picturesque were the views towards Cheddar, with the blue reservoir just beyond Cheddar.

No Pain, no Gain
I’m well aware that my feet were sore by the time I reached home, and the Two Moors walk requires lengthy walks on consecutive days. More prep required. The stop at Priddy incurred pain of a different sort. My left foot was in pain, so I sat at a pub bench. It was probably about 9.30, the pub opened at 12. The publican came over and said, ‘This is Private land’. I had passed about two or three people in an hour’s walking; there was no one around. Did he need to be so territorial? He was within his rights, I suppose, so I moved on without objecting, but it felt a bit mean. Next stop, a pouring tea from a thermos & peanut and jam sandwich stop, was by a wall out of the wind, on the high ground after Priddy. I’d pulled waterproofs on just in time about 30minutes before, as a vast black cloud emptied its hail on me…personally. So the stop enabled me to hang up the jacket and rousers on the wall to dry in the now sun and wind. After that, the wonderful Coffee at the Hub café in Cheddar, before heading home via the public loos at Axbridge and one more left boot stop on the Strawberry Line.

Spiritual
Perhaps I do have something to say. My spiritual adventures started quite young. Probably about aged 6, at least consciously. My heroes were Jesus and the Pied Piper!! Somehow, I got hold of the notion that if you pray, God answers, so I knelt by my bed one night, put my hands together as I had seen others do, and asked for a Cadillac. In the morning, no Cadillac. That was discouraging.

I mean, what goes through one’s head aged 6? I’ve since bought all the Calvin and Hobbes comics to keep in touch with my 6-year-old self.

Now, at 68, I have about five prayers that are standard, daily prayers. By Priddy, I’d worked my way through those prayers. There is a dull-routine-feel much of the time, akin to brushing one’s teeth: a good thing, but not one that often stirs the blood. Routines like this are like warm-ups, or the hors-d’oeuvre, small talk before a real connection.

Today, after the standard list had been prayed, I thought back to being 6, 7, 8…growing up as a quiet rebel. That silent rebellion had a stubborn, unhelpful streak, but I was beginning to think that this world is not a random, predetermined molecular machine wherein consciousness is pointless, morals are a figment of our imagination, and progress is a foolish delusion. Unexplained customs, traditions, etiquette, and manners, however, drove me insane with the unanswered question, ‘Why’, a characteristic of home and school life. ‘It just is’ never satisfied me…and in the person of Jesus, I felt I saw the same fierce anger, railing against blind obedience towards outward observances as enforced by the Pharisees whilst abandoning the spiritual reasons for the traditions; the heart of the matter overruled by outward conformity as true markers of acceptable behaviour.

‘Course he isn't safe, but he is good. He is not a tame lion’

I’ve been a Christian believer, now for just over 50 years. I’ve seen enough miraculous answers to prayer to overcome my 6-year-old disappointment, and have, bit by bit, discovered the truth behind various customs and traditions – the Why e.g. standing up when an older person comes into the room, or being grateful, or marriage vows and the traditional marriage ceremony…and so, outwardly, I have become quite conformist…but…subject to the call of God.

God is not bound by our traditions and customs. As CS Lewis wrote about Aslan (Jesus, if you hadn’t realised), ‘Course he isn't safe, but he is good. He is not a tame lion’ and so, on this walk, with Aslan, today, I was taken back to those early urges to follow Christ – not the Pied Piper - and learn what it is to become good but not tame. 50 years on, and I am still feeling the love of Christ pulling me closer, Cadillac or no Cadillac.

Last thermos tea & peanut jam sandwich stop

Ain’t

Forbidden fruits aren’t
Limited to one far-off tree
Eden is such a risk-laden garden
Nervous parents slap a ban
On children venturing there

It’s the Comp, bog-standard,
That hollows out the
Bowels of gymkhana parents
Silver cutlery polishers
The risk of infection, too great

It’s mustard on lamb
Or wearing a tie on a Saturday
Or dragging a tongue, cat-like
Over a saucer of milk
Or speaking backwards

Those things that appeal
For no rhyme or reason
All coming to a focus of joy
In using the word Ain’t
Expressly Verboten

And juicier for it
The sharp A filling the void
The living cave of a sound-filled mouth
And the nasal red-raw Ain finish
Like a rich, long-lasting Burgundy

The T is optional
Depending only on mood
On temper, on the need
For percussion, for impact
A vocal jab in the ribs

Say it with me…
Let it build, louder and louder
Ain’t Ain’t Ain’t Ain’t Ain’t Ain’t
Ain’t Ain’t Ain’t Ain’t Ain’t Ain’t
Ah! The joy of Ain’t

Book Review: Cosmic Chemistry, John C. Lennox Lion – 2021

‘Her research (Barbara McClintock) was revolutionary in that it totally contradicted the established wisdom of Darwinism’

This book is a baptism! 

If you read it, you’ll be plunged into the raging waters of the debate between highly intelligent proponents of Intelligent Design and of atheistic Determinism…and it’s well worth the ride.

John C. Lennox is a Northern Irish mathematician, bioethicist, and Christian apologist who serves as Emeritus Professor of Mathematics at the University of Oxford. 

In other words, take note, whilst not an academic tome, Cosmic Chemistry doesn’t shy away from the intellectual battle between atheist scientists - who believe there is no Creator and that the world, and consciousness, is a chaotic and meaningless construct of random chemical determinism - and theists - who believe that the empirical evidence that we can elucidate, points to a Creator.

Cosmic Chemistry is divided into five chapters. The first two introduce the relationship between God and Science; the final three concentrate their fire on Genetics and Evolution.

Personally, I enjoyed the final three chapters more than the opening two…maybe this is more a product of my impatience than the interest another reader might derive from Chapter 1: Surveying the Landscape, and Chapter 2: Science and Explanation.

As a Science teacher, I wanted to get to the heart of Lennox’s perspective on the Creation v Evolution / Creator v no Creator debate…in its up-to-date genetic form. I was not disappointed!

A typical GCSE Biology syllabus proposes that life has evolved in its complexity through a combination of random mutations of DNA via errors or outside interference (e.g. from radiation or mutagenic chemicals) and Darwin’s survival of the fittest, i.e., the organisms whose beneficial mutations lead to observable phenotype alterations, such as variations of beak sizes on Darwin’s Galapagos Island finches. 

Cosmic Chemistry has taught me that biologists – even ardent Darwinian evolutionist biologists - have long since abandoned this view, since Barbara McClintock discovered ‘jumping genes’ in 1943. She is quoted ‘The conclusion seems inescapable that cells are able to...make wise decisions and act upon them’ ie act as agents and modify their own genome.

Watch out – that would hit the headlines ‘Biology turns its back on Darwin’

This discovery was made whilst studying maize chromosomes in but was not acknowledged until forty years later, winning the Nobel Prize in 1983 for Physiology or Medicine. A tragic loss…but as Lennox argues, she was swimming against a strong Darwinian tide.

One wonders when GCSE (and A-Level) genetics will include this discovery?

Watch out – that would hit the headlines ‘Biology turns its back on Darwin’. 

One can imagine the furore and media maelstrom that would follow BUT if Science has any credibility, it is sure, as Lennox argues, it is because it abandons anything other than empirical evidence: ‘the essence of true science – a willingness to follow empirical evidence, wherever it leads.’

Cosmic Chemistry is an intellectually challenging and scientifically literate book in which Lennox attacks lazy thinking and the weaknesses in his opponents’ arguments. It is a bold, robust and comprehensive work that proposes that empirical evidence points towards a Creator of unbelievable complexity rather than Dawkin’s famous Blind Watchmaker.

Take a deep breath and dive in. 

The Two Moors Walking Challenge Post #6, 31st March, 2026

Route: Winscombe to Weston Super Mare, 13.6miles (22km)

The route was a mixture of minor roads and footpaths, starting with the local fields and orchards over to Max Mill Lane, then turning right on minor roads to Christon. A stop at the old CofE church included a tremendous view across the valley to Crook Peak.

Just along the road from Christon church was a reclaimed water pump, and this painted stone was laid at its base.

Such unexpected poetic wisdom coincided with listening to R4 podcast In Out Time discussion on Keats (Ode to a Nightingale), who died aged 26 before his popularity and fame became established. An interesting coincidence.

A wrong turn above Christon wasted about 40mins, but extra miles aren’t a bad thing.

Then the long, mostly downhill stretch along an old Roman Road to Upton – a much-needed loo stop and coffee break at Weston General (!) to rest the left foot.

A sea mist rolling in partially obscured Brean Down and created a lovely, hazy picture of the curve of the bay, round to the large hotels at the far end.

The positive atmosphere among beach dog walkers and people wandering along the prom was not matched in the town centre. No one looked relaxed; I didn’t see a single smile. A general air of tension and depression. I could write about particular individuals’ strange behaviour, but would rather end on a more uplifting note.

That note belongs to the 125 bus that delivered me to my drive-in. A nice tradition to say ‘Thank you’ to bus drivers was kept.

The Two Moors Walking Challenge Post #5, 27th March, 2026

From my previous post, it was clear that I had my doubts that the ‘ol legs, fourth toe on left foot, and general weariness would prevent me walking the whole route…and place the whole preparation for the 9-day trek later in May into a box labelled ‘Dunno!’

But Strava lieth not:

• Left Down Thomas (Wembury) at 7.03 arrived in Ivybridge at 3.15pm
• 26.89km in 8 hours 8 mins (5 hours 35 mins moving) averaging 12.29 mins per km.

The disparity between moving and actual ‘elapsed’ time is explained by the 7 breaks taken at fairly regular intervals.

1st: 4km – lovely view over green fields towards Spriddlestone House. Dartmoor on the horizon
2nd: 8km – Brixton. Cuppa tea at Brixton St Mary’s church, followed by loo stop at what had been a café in the guidebook, now a new materials shop.
Toe very painful. OK after rest.
3rd. 12km - Toe again just outside Yealmpton. Longer stop at Rose and Crown. 10.30 slightly ahead of schedule.
4th 16km - Butland Wood. Was 50m away from obscured signpost. Wasted 20 mins traipsing back and forth looking at map and shapes of woods etc.
5th 21.5km Ermington – stopped by River Erme having past llamas on my left and pygmy goats on my right. Liked Ermington.
6th 25.75km Ivybridge Tennis club. Final boots off stop.
7th 26.89km The Bridge café and Watermark

Taxi back to Wembury no need for extra comment. It was a joy.

Spiritual?

You’d think one’s mind would slow down, enter some sort of blissful meditative state, the world and all its troubles retreating? Not the case. Maybe it would be after a few days, but navigating, physical discomfort at times, taking breaks, mind flitting from one thing to another…I can’t report a monk-like retreat. What I can say is that my musings on Luke chapter 15 grew stronger; wondering whether I have enough material, chapter headings, to put together a book, still struggling with the weakness of the Father as a less well travelled route into the parable.

Prayers and ponderings for certain situations and individuals came and went as usual.

And maybe a contentedness with what I’m now calling Phase 3.

Phase 1: settling into Winscombe and Exeter term 1. Phase 2: mostly a long list of practical work on the house and grounds + book launch. Phase 3: TJPII re-write, Dissertation poetry exploration, further practical work including erecting a shed in the back garden & planting veg in the freshly dug plot.

With Dartmoor on the horizon like a gathering grey-brown featureless tsunami

A beautiful route?

Yes! Sustained by thermos tea and fruitcake the route followed the generally well-signposted Erme-Plym trail through lovely open countryside away from all but a few roads and the sound of traffic. With Dartmoor on the horizon like a gathering grey-brown featureless tsunami.

Only one field with curious cows who all followed me for a few minutes before preferring the grass at their feet.

For me, the gentle northerly breeze, kept me cool, with temperatures hovering around 10oC I think. I deal. In May/June I will suffer and sweat more freely…but trousers rather than shorts may be wise against ticks.

Tomorrow might not work

The weather forecast
Has its sun yellow spikes
Diminishing in number, and
Temperatures on the slide

Nevertheless the rucksack,
Boots, socks, map, thermos
And karrimat: all strapped in
With a lack of good sense

Limiting factors include:
Fourth toe on left foot,
Bladder, or worse, and
The thought of home

It doesn’t say that Jesus
Set his face like flint
Just: ‘set his face
To go to Jerusalem’

But His praying soul
Percolates into mine
Maybe it will carry me
To Ivybridge for tea?

For I look for comfort
Not a cross, or nails
Or nakedness
Or false witness

A kudos on Strava, perhaps
To ease the pain
A cognac, make it a double
If tomorrow works

Tomorrow might not work
For any of us
My prayer is for all those
Whose tomorrow doesn’t work

The Lord bless you, and keep you
The Lord make His face
To shine upon you
And give you peace

The Two Moors Walking Challenge Post #4, 25th March, 2026

Today/Tomorrow: a practice walk for the first section from Wembury beach to Yealmpton (7.5 miles), then Yealmpton to Ivybridge (9 miles) and somehow back…by bus and taxi I suspect.

Today: a practice of inactivity, including writing this blog. Gusty outside. Rooks on kamikaze missions blown off course by sudden gusts. Perhaps they’re enjoying unpredictable flight? It’s high tide at 10am…I might excuse myself from a ‘writing day’ to go and watch the waves pound in on 40mph winds

Tomorrow: I think a normalish start to the day, having packed this evening. Normalish means up around 6 and a quick breakfast. If I can leave by 7, I’ll be pleased. Certainly by 8. Sixteen and a half miles is daunting. I haven’t walked more than ten for…errr…hmm…dunno.

Yealmpton: the temptation to call a halt here will be strong, I suspect. And maybe wise. Or necessary. The guide says 4 hours. So, I should arrive by late morning. Then 4.5 hours to Ivybridge. If I can get there by 5pm, I’ll be chuffed.

Days to go: 62

Spiritual: I’m in Wembury for two principal purposes. Firstly, to write. In fact, to get back to editing and re-writing The Bait Digger II. Secondly, to take a breather from the build-up to the book launch last Saturday, which was great fun.

In this ‘sigh’, this breather, I am aware of a few things on my mind: a sermon to preach later in April, Israel and Iran: as related to the parable of the prodigal son. Palestinian/Israeli poets: a potential direction for next year’s dissertation.

Lastly, I will have been in Winscombe for a year on Sunday. So it’s time to take stock.

Whether any of this occurs to me whilst walking tomorrow, who knows! I might stick the earbuds in, plod along to various podcasts, and leave my meditations for another day.

The Fragrance of a Tomb

The New Testament accounts of the death and burial of Lazarus and Jesus, if nothing else, take us into the burial customs of first-century Palestine.

The Burial of Jesus

This morning, I read the very familiar passage describing how Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus secured the body of Jesus and took 75 pounds of myrrh and aloes to soak into the wrappings for Jesus’ burial in the garden tomb.

It’s extraordinary to think I’ve known this passage since childhood, but until this morning had never smelt it. The body of Jesus and the tomb would have smelt myrrh and aloes

Joseph of Arimathea asked Pilate for the body of Jesus. Now Joseph was a disciple of Jesus, but secretly because he feared the Jewish leaders. With Pilate’s permission, he came and took the body away. He was accompanied by Nicodemus, the man who earlier had visited Jesus at night. Nicodemus brought a mixture of myrrh and aloes, about seventy-five pounds. Taking Jesus’ body, the two of them wrapped it, with the spices, in strips of linen. This was in accordance with Jewish burial customs. At the place where Jesus was crucified, there was a garden, and in the garden a new tomb, in which no one had ever been laid.

And 75 pounds in weight (100 Roman pounds or the equivalent of 75lbs (just over 5 stone) is a significant weight to carry through the streets of Jerusalem. Burial, due to the warm climate, was usually carried out immediately to offset any odour from rapid decomposition.

I can only imagine that 75lbs was excessive, only affordable by the very rich, and a reflection of the love and honour Joseph and Nicodemus wished to pour out to Christ in his burial. An extraordinary act of bravery since the highest powers were involved in his crucifixion only hours earlier: Pilate, the High Priest, the Sanhedrin, and the crowd who had called on Pilate to order Christ’s crucifixion. Scripture also states that the Romans had placed a guard on the tomb. The burial was an entirely male act, though Luke records that the women, who were to return with more spices and fragrant oils after sunrise two days later, witnessed the burial, the washing, and the anointing work of Joseph and Nicodemus.

‘And the women followed (Joseph and Nicodemus), and they observed the tomb and how his body was laid’

When Joseph and Nicodemus had finished washing the body, wrapping it in cloths impregnated with the myrrh and aloes, they left the wrapped body of the Messiah on a stone slab in the tomb, and rolled the stone across the entrance; later sealed by the soldiers. (Mt27v62-66)

If I may be permitted to speculate, by the third day, had it not been for the anointing work of the burial party i.e. Joseph and Nicodemus, the tomb should have smelt putrid due to the decomposition of the body.

There were two reasons why it didn’t:

1. The body wasn’t there. Jesus had risen from the dead. It didn’t decompose
2. The linen clothes, and therefore the tomb, would have smelt very fragrant due to the anointing spices and oils

When Peter preached the first sermon on the Day of Pentecost, he quoted Psalm 16:

‘You will not leave my soul in Hades, nor will You allow your Holy One to see decay’ v27

The Burial of Lazarus

When Jesus arrived at the house of Martha and Mary, Lazarus, having died and been wrapped and buried, He commanded that the stone that lay against the tomb be taken away.

‘The Jesus, groaning in Himself, came to the tomb. It was a cave, and a stone lay against it. Jesus said, ‘Take away the stone.’ Martha…said, ‘Lord by this time there is a stench; he’s been dead four days’…Jesus cried out with a loud voice, ‘Lazarus, come out!’…he came out bound hand and foot with grave clothes, and his face was wrapped with a cloth. Jesus said to them, ‘Loose him, and let him go!

There are some significant differences from Jesus’s burial. No circular stone and no sealing. The entrance to the cave is closed with a stone, which is taken away, not rolled away. Evidently, the burial clothes of Lazarus had not been impregnated with expensive spices because Martha said ‘he stinks’; present tense. Lazarus had died, been buried, and had started decaying in the heat; the cave stank, which makes the raising of Lazarus even more remarkable. The decay was reversed and, once freed from the grave clothes, he walked freely.

Evidently, the burial clothes of Lazarus had not been impregnated with expensive spices because Martha said ‘he stinks’; present tense

In the following chapter, chapter 12 in John’s gospel, six days before Passover and Christ’s crucifixion, Lazarus is sitting at the table with Martha and Mary, his sisters, Jesus and the disciples, and Mary appears with ‘a pound of very costly spikenard and anointed the feet of Jesus’.

It is important to note that any suggestion that Mary could have used this to anoint her brother’s body and grave clothes is an argument from silence; we don’t know how or when Mary obtained the spikenard. But having it in her possession, she uses it to anoint the feet of Jesus.

Jesus’ view of this extraordinary act was to say, ‘Leave her alone, she has kept this for the day of my burial’.

And, just like the garden tomb would smell days later, ‘(Mary’s) house was filled with the fragrance of the oil’.

To conclude. Sometimes we need to use all five of our senses – including the sense of smell - to fully imagine a story; to imagine being in its location and breathing it in. Paul writes:

‘Now thanks be to God who always leads us in triumph in Christ, and through us diffuses the fragrance of His knowledge in every place, for we are to Him the fragrance of Christ amongst those who are being saved and those who are perishing’  2Cor2v13,14

International Women’s Day 8th March 2026

It’s 7am, and I’m on a walk. A cold mist is soaking through my t-shirt. Despite this, my attention is taken up by the Sermon of the Week from Bethel Church, Redding.

The title is Love Looks Like Action, and the speaker is Gabe Valenzuela.

At this point, I have no idea it is International Women’s Day. I don’t find out until after I’m back home, showered, and listening to R4 getting my standard cuppa and cereal breakfast organised.

I’m drawn into the talk. Gabe is combining serious points with disarming humour. Sometimes I’m laughing, hoping no one’s too close to wonder why this man walking along the Strawberry Line path is laughing to himself, early in the morning.

His text is the familiar parable about the Good Samaritan. After about 30 minutes happily agreeing with his conclusions, I find myself taken off in an unexpected direction, unrelated to any sermons or commentaries on this parable, in which the punchline is ‘Go and do likewise’.

A new punchline? Not one that is written down, but one that came from the heart. Of course, Jesus can be thought of as the Samaritan, come to bind up our wounds and pay for our recovery. A beautiful picture of God’s love and grace. This is wonderful and true, but I saw something quite different.

Jesus could tell this parable because He also experienced being the man left by the wayside, battered, bruised, wounded and robbed. Yes, on the cross, but also in life.

As Gabe Valnzuela pointed out, we have all been the person beaten up at times.

Also true of Jesus. The question is, who was he thinking of who had shown him kindness and poured healing oil on Him?

First, though: the wounds.

1. Early childhood fleeing to Egypt as a child refugee, an outsider. Think of the hostility in our society, spoken or unspoken, towards refugees…in the school playground.
2. Biting, continual criticism and accusations from the Pharisees
3. Direct opposition and temptation from Satan and evil spirits
4. His own family accuses him of madness
5. Peter disowning him, Judas betraying him, the other apostles abandoning him

Throughout his public ministry and before he was ministered to, received kindness from, gentleness from, love from…women.

Martha and Mary, Mary Magdalene, Mary his mother, Joanna, Susannah, and Salome. In very different ways, they all ministered to him. Maybe you know how. But I want to mention one woman in particular, the Samaritan woman at the well. Maybe she was the inspiration for the parable? The story is related in John chapter 4.

Why this woman? In part because she is unnamed, and a Samaritan, considered to be unworthy. Not only that, but had lived such a tragic life, living with a man but not married, having previously had four husbands. And yet, when Jesus was weary, tired, incapable of taking another step, ground to a halt in the shade by a well…it was this woman who gave the Saviour a cold, refreshing drink of water, when he had no means of getting the water up from the well.

If you’re a man and reading this, perhaps you are thinking back over your life and how particular women have shown you kindness, gentleness, and love just when you needed it and, perhaps, when you least deserved it.

Even in anticipation of Jesus’s ultimate suffering, the indignity of betrayal, arrest, illegal trial, and undeserved execution on trumped-up charges leading to crucifixion, death and burial, it was women who knew what to do…and did it.

First, Mary, the sister of Lazarus, anoints Jesus's feet with very expensive perfume, filling the house with the scent. Jesus knows why. He says, ‘Leave her alone, she has kept this for the day of my burial’. An act of devotion and love, knowing that he would soon suffer and die.

And lastly, the women who went to the tomb with spices to roll the stone away and enter to anoint his dead body: Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, Joanna, and Salome are named.

Why this woman? In part because she is unnamed, and a Samaritan, considered to be unworthy

What do you think Jesus felt knowing these women had done all that even for him in death?

After all this came from nowhere and tumbled into my thoughts and made tears fall, I walked along the road back to my house, showered, and flipped on Radio 4.

The Morning Service. A programme I usually switch off, as it often feels too stiff and formal. But not this morning. It’s a service from Zion Temple Celebration Centre, in Rwanda, and the stories of, I think, five women in rich Rwandan accents are celebrating International Women’s Day and their faith and love for Christ and telling how He has transformed their lives and is at work today in His risen power, are being told.

That stopped me in my tracks. It’s one thing to be ambushed whilst listening to someone else’s sermon, quite another to be arrested by Radio 4.

So, yes... it’s not only worthwhile to celebrate International Women’s Day, but also important to remember and honour the women who ministered to the wounds Jesus received during His life and in His death…and to give thank God for this reality in our own lives. And not just to ‘give’ thanks, but to pour it out — just like Mary poured her ointment on Jesus’s feet.