Tag: Christian life

  • From Goa to the Gospel: Part Three

    From Goa to the Gospel: Part Three

    A Real Conversion.

    Image: The hilltop beside the fishing village where the local ekklesia—the called-out ones—gather to worship the Living God. The concrete cross is not an object of worship, but simply a geographical marker where the believers meet.

    My conversion was not a “nice idea” or a gradual drift into church because it seemed respectable. It was the Holy Spirit showing me, for the first time, what I really was. And it broke me.

    I had been down every dead-end street I could find. Goa, parties, travelling, work, friendships – I kept thinking the next thing round the corner would finally make life make sense. But eventually I  hit a wall. I realised that if I walked down one more dead-end, I would have to admit life was pointless. That was the moment another way opened up in front of me: not a wide road with crowds on it, but a small, narrow path.

    The conviction of the Holy Spirit doesn’t flatter you. He doesn’t tell you that you’re “basically a good person who just needs a bit of religion.” He shows you the truth. I saw my own sin, my selfishness, my pride, the way I had lived as if God did not exist. It was like looking in a mirror for the first time. I wasn’t destroyed, but I was in pieces – like a smashed pot on the floor.

    That breaking was not cruelty. It was mercy. The old me had to die. The Bible says we are crucified with Christ and that the old self is put to death. Scripture also says what every honest Christian knows: you still feel that old self hanging around your neck like a dead man you drag behind you. I understood what the Apostle Paul meant – the new heart was real, but the old habits, the old temptations and shadows were still there, trying to pull me back.

    From that point on, everything changed. My heart and mind were different. I didn’t see the world the same way. Things I once shrugged off as “just life” now looked like poison. I wasn’t suddenly standing in the street judging everyone – I could see that I was the problem. But I also knew that certain things had to go. Certain places. Certain patterns. Certain friendships.

    In the end, I lost all my old friends. They didn’t want Christ; they wanted the old version of me. They were happy enough for me to believe in God in private, as long as I left my shoes and my Christianity at the door when I visited. Eventually it was clear to all of us that it couldn’t go on like that. I stopped going round. They treated me differently. They sounded different. We agreed it was for the best, but it still hurt.

    My conversion was not a Pentecost-style experience with shouting, singing, and tongues. There was no choir in the background. It was quieter and more painful than that. It was me on the ground, many times, saying things that are between me and God. It was the Holy Spirit convicting me of sin, breaking me, and then, very slowly, beginning to build me back up again in Christ.

    That is what I mean when I say my journey really did go from Goa to the Gospel. I gave my life to Christ before my baptism – baptism is an outward sign of the inward work of the Holy Spirit. I was baptised on Sunday 8th October 2017.

    Praise God. Amen.

  • Ecclesiastes Chapter 4

    Ecclesiastes Chapter 4

    The Vanity of Life and the Need for One Another.

    Introduction

    There are moments in Ecclesiastes when the Preacher takes us from philosophical reflection straight into the raw edges of human experience. Chapter 4 is one of those moments. It opens with a scene that is painfully recognisable in every generation: people crushed by those who hold power over them. From there, the chapter moves through the motives that drive our work, the loneliness that often lies beneath outward success, the strength found in companionship, and the fragile nature of human fame. What emerges is an unfiltered look at life in a world that refuses to be fixed by human hands. Through it all, the chapter presses us to consider what actually gives life substance and how we should live when so much around us proves empty.

    Oppression, Envy, and the Burden of Toil.

    The chapter begins with the Preacher observing the tears of those who are oppressed. They have no comfort, while their oppressors hold all the authority. It is a bleak picture: a world where the vulnerable are left without protection and where suffering goes unanswered. The Preacher does not soften what he sees. He goes as far as to say that the dead are better off than the living, and better still are those who have never been born to witness such injustice. It is not cynicism. It is the honest acknowledgement that life under the sun can be brutal, and that power, when misused, crushes those who cannot defend themselves.

    From there the Preacher turns to another uncomfortable truth: much of our work and skill is fuelled by envy. Instead of labour flowing from purpose, love, or service, it often springs from the desire to outdo someone else. We push ourselves not because the work itself is meaningful, but because we are watching our neighbour, comparing, competing, and trying to get ahead. But this too is a chasing after wind. It wears us out and gives nothing lasting in return.

    Idleness, however, offers no escape. The one who simply folds his hands and refuses to work ends up consuming himself. Laziness becomes its own form of destruction. The Preacher is not advocating extremes. He is exposing them. On one side is frantic striving driven by envy. On the other is the self-ruin of refusing to work at all. Between the two lies a better way: a small amount, accompanied by quietness and peace, is far better than overflowing hands gained through endless toil. Contentment, not competition, is where rest is found.

    The chapter then presents the image of a solitary worker. He has no family beside him, yet he works endlessly. His wealth increases, but his heart is never satisfied. He never pauses long enough to ask why he is labouring so hard or who will benefit from his sacrifices. His life becomes a treadmill of accumulation without joy, meaning, or relationship. This too is declared to be vanity—an unhappy business that leaves a person exhausted and alone.

    The Strength of Companionship.

    Against the emptiness of isolation, the Preacher turns to the value of companionship. Two people working together accomplish more than one person working alone. When one falls, the other can lift him up. The solitary person, however, has no one to help when trouble comes. It is a simple picture, yet deeply human. Life is unpredictable, and even the strongest among us will stumble. To have another beside you in those moments is a gift.

    The image continues: two people lying together can share warmth, something one cannot achieve alone. And in conflict, two standing together can withstand an opponent who would overpower them individually. A threefold cord—a partnership strengthened by a third strand—is even harder to break. The point is not mathematical. It is relational. Strength multiplies when people walk together. Isolation may seem easier, but it leaves a person vulnerable, tired, and spiritually cold.

    These lines cut through the modern illusion of self-sufficiency. The chapter insists that human beings were not designed to carry life’s burdens by themselves. Companionship does not remove all hardship, but it provides resilience in a world where hardship is unavoidable. Where envy isolates, generosity binds. Where rivalry exhausts, shared purpose strengthens. In a world full of pressure and uncertainty, the presence of another human being becomes one of God’s simple and profound mercies.

    Wisdom, Status, and the Fragility of Human Praise.

    The chapter closes with a picture of dramatic reversal. A young person, poor but wise, is considered better than an older ruler who has hardened his heart and refuses counsel. The wisdom of the youth lifts him from obscurity—he rises from prison to the throne. Crowds gather around him, celebrating his insight and leadership. But even this moment of triumph is fleeting. Those who come later will not rejoice in him. His popularity, which once seemed unstoppable, fades as quickly as it arrived.

    This final scene exposes the instability of human status. Power rises and falls. Admiration swells and then disappears. Even the most remarkable success cannot secure lasting remembrance. The Preacher’s verdict remains the same: this too is vanity and a striving after wind. The point is clear. We cannot anchor our identity in the approval of others. The praise of crowds is a tide that turns without warning. What looks like glory today becomes dust tomorrow.

    Wisdom is still better than folly. Humility is still better than stubborn pride. But Ecclesiastes warns us not to build our hope on human recognition. Life under the sun is unstable, and the Preacher forces us to face that reality with clear eyes.

    Encouragement for Believers and an Invitation for Seekers.

    For believers, this chapter is an honest reminder that life in a fallen world can be deeply painful. Oppression still wounds, envy still corrodes the heart, and loneliness still weighs heavily on the soul. Yet the chapter also holds out simple, grounded wisdom. Seek contentment over comparison. Choose companionship over isolation. Walk in humility, knowing that God sees even when others do not. He is not blind to the tears of the oppressed or the exhaustion of those who labour without recognition.

    In the body of Christ, the call to companionship becomes practical. We lift one another when we fall. We warm one another’s hearts when the world grows cold. We stand together against pressures that would overwhelm us alone. These are not small things. They are signs of God’s care expressed through His people.

    For those exploring faith, the honesty of Ecclesiastes may feel surprising. The Bible does not pretend the world is safe or fair. It does not offer shallow comfort. Instead, it speaks plainly about the injustice, frustration, and loneliness that everyone feels at some point. Yet it also points to the reality that we are made for relationship—with God and with others. The longings stirred by this chapter are not illusions. They are hints of something deeper, urging us to look beyond the weariness of life under the sun and consider whether there is a God who sees, who cares, and who invites us to walk with Him.

    Conclusion.

    Ecclesiastes 4 gives us a sobering view of life: oppression that goes unanswered, toil driven by comparison, isolation that drains the soul, and success that soon fades from memory. Yet woven through its realism is a thread of hope. Companionship matters. Humility matters. Contentment matters. And the God who stands above all things is not indifferent to what happens under the sun. As we live with open eyes and honest hearts, may we hold fast to what endures and walk with those God has placed beside us, finding strength for the journey in His care.

  • Blogging Blogging Blogging.

    Blogging Blogging Blogging.

    Why there’s an audio version
    Some readers prefer to read at their own pace. Others (especially when eyesight, energy or health make reading harder) may find listening easier. So, I’ve added an audio option—feel free to relax, sit back and listen, or carry on reading—whichever suits you best.

    When Life Changes Overnight and the Words Start Pouring Out.

    There are seasons in life when everything seems to fall still. Nothing moves. Nothing grows. Days blur together, and you wonder whether anything meaningful will ever come from the place you’ve landed.
    And then there are seasons like the one I’m in now—unexpected, unplanned, and overflowing with more questions than answers. I didn’t intend to become a blogger. I didn’t expect writing to become a lifeline. And I never imagined that my circumstances, difficult as they are, would open the door to a whole new way of living. But here I am, a newcomer to WordPress and a head full of ideas, and enthusiasm that is old news to the veterans of blogging.

    I should probably explain how I got here.

    A Life Changed in a Single Week.

    In April 2025, a GP started a chain of events that led to a misdiagnosis and a botched medical procedure which went horribly wrong and left me with permanent damage to my lungs. My breathing has never returned to normal. I can’t stand for long, can’t do most of the physical things I used to do, and I sleep sitting up because lying flat simply isn’t possible anymore. Nights are broken into short bursts of rest—three or four hours at most in my large layback office chair—and long stretches of wakefulness. Gradually the urge and want to write has grown inside me, my mind and soul flooding with new ideas every moment, new to me anyway.

    It took time to accept that life from now on had completely changed. That the world I once moved through as a free spirit had, in an instant, shrunk to a much smaller environment—housebound now, and no longer able to travel or chase the adventures I once loved. But those long waking hours did something unexpected: they gave me space—too much space sometimes—to think, to pray, and eventually, to actually start to write all these thoughts down.

    Then what began as a necessity to keep me sane became a doorway.

    Discovering Blogging at the Exact Moment I Needed It.

    I arrived on WordPress almost by accident. I set up a simple blog website, not expecting much from it. One subscriber felt like such a victory—thank you, Christopher. Posting anything felt like a mountain climbed. I didn’t know what I was doing—I still barely do—but the moment I published my first post, I prayed, guided by Scripture:

    “Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”
    (Phil 4:6–7 ESV 2007)

    Something woke up inside me.

    The quiet hours of the night suddenly weren’t empty anymore. Ideas flooded in. Thoughts that had been sitting quietly at the back of my mind began knocking loudly. Passages of Scripture lit up with new clarity. Old questions resurfaced. New questions arrived before I’d finished answering the previous ones.

    And before I knew what was happening, I was writing. A lot.

    I Felt Elation While Writing.

    I had found a new purpose in life. With cruel new limitations, I’m always breathless.
    If you’re new to blogging, no one tells you what happens when the floodgates open. One minute you’re tentatively posting your first little piece; the next minute you’re wrestling with whether publishing seven posts in three days is normal at first, or why you should worry how often you post. I can write a post every two hours with a coffee break—what does it matter anyway?

    I found myself producing content quicker than I’d imagined. I thought of my one or maybe two subscribers’ inboxes going off like spam. I’d publish something, sit back, listen to it read aloud with Microsoft cloud voices for a few minutes, and immediately feel the urge to write the next one. I wondered whether this was normal or whether I was alone in this unstoppable momentum. Was I supposed to slow down? Was it bad form to post every few hours? Did experienced bloggers look at this and think, “Oh dear, here we go—another newbie in overdrive”?

    The irony of it made me laugh—blogging about blogging like so many have, worrying about blogging, thinking about blogging, praying about blogging… and then, of course, blogging again.

    But the truth is, it doesn’t feel excessive to me, but natural. I hated writing at school and college; I was more of a story maker and teller but never wrote them down. In my twenties, my good friend said, “You should write a book, you’ve lived five lives already.”

    When God Gives You Something to Say.

    There is a spiritual dimension to this that I can’t ignore. There are moments in life when God sharpens your focus, clears the fog, and turns a whisper into something like a calling. I didn’t expect that to happen in this season of struggle, but it did. In fact, it happened because of it.

    When your health changes, your world shrinks. But God does not shrink with it. Instead, He fills the space you have left.

    Writing has become more than an experiment or something to keep my mind occupied. It has become a way to share the gospel. A way to process what I’m living through. A way to offer hope to someone who may be going through their own dark chapter. A way to obey the command to speak of Christ—to point people towards the One who holds us through every breath, even the painful ones.

    And somehow, this new purpose sits comfortably inside the limitations I didn’t choose. It doesn’t require strong lungs, or long walks, or heavy lifting. It requires only the willingness to sit, to reflect, and to let the thoughts fill my mind.

    Finding Purpose in a Life You Didn’t Plan.

    I won’t pretend it’s easy. There are days when I miss the person I used to be—an advanced carpenter, a Rescue Diver/Divemaster, travelling, working in my trade as a carpenter to keep travelling and scuba diving in many countries. Now it’s a real struggle to clean my bungalow and cook, but if I can’t go back to that life, then I choose to move forward with this one.

    I’m not meeting people anymore. I’m not out in the world in the way I once was. But I am writing, thinking, learning, praying, and starting to pour out everything God gives me.

    And strangely enough, that feels like living again.

    Writing hasn’t replaced everything I lost, but it has given me something new to hold on to. Something meaningful. Something that connects me to others, even if only one or two people who sneak a peek at one blog in a month. It may take decades to reach five people who want to share their thoughts with me or ask a question. However long it takes, it will be the perfect exact time.

    The Joy of Beginning Again.

    If you’re reading this as a new blogger yourself, maybe you know this feeling too—the rush of ideas, the excitement, the worry that you’re posting too much or too fast. Or perhaps you’re reading this while going through your own unexpected chapter of life, wondering whether anything good can come out of it.

    Let me tell you what I’m learning: purpose can appear in the strangest places. Hope can take shape in the quiet hours when sleep won’t come. Creativity can rise out of a life that feels like it’s been turned on its head. And God can bring new calling out of circumstances that were never part of your plan.

    I didn’t choose this path. But I’m choosing what to do with it.

    It’s been an hour since my last post — I’d better crack on.
    And if writing is the way forward—then I’m going to keep writing.

    2 responses to “Blogging Blogging Blogging.”

    1. Christopher Francis Avatar
      Christopher Francis

      Good day Jo. I hope you are doing well. I resonated with some of your thougts in this post, especially this one: “New questions arrived before I’d finished answering the previous ones.” I know this experience all too well. Regarding how often to blog, of course that is up to each blogger. Personally, seeing people post every few hours reminds me too much of other social media, like Facebook or Twitter. A lot of people use their blog in the same way, albeit, maybe a little bit deeper as they like to respond to daily prompts, instead of posting about how they overslept, had nothing to eat for breakfast except stale cereal since they had not gone shopping lately. Daily prompts don’t really appeal to me as far as posts for my blog- they just don’t fit what I am trying to do on my blog (even if responding to them drove more traffic.) Considering the type of writing I produce, I don’t think I could keep up a pace of being able to write something new daily.

      Anyway, as I was reading your post, an old favorite verse of mine that has given me a lot of hope over the years came to mind. Isaiah 42:16: “And I will bring the blind by a way that they knew not; I will lead them in paths that they have not known: I will make darkness light before them, and crooked things straight. These things will I do unto them, and not forsake them.” I think this verse may fit your situation in conjunction with Isaiah 29:16: “Surely your turning of things upside down shall be esteemed as the potter’s clay: for shall the work say of him that made it, He made me not? or shall the thing framed say of him that framed it, He had no understanding?” Sometimes God allows our world to be turned upside down and we become blind in the sense of where things are going and where He will take us. But as you have shown above, a world turned upside down can still be redeemed and used by God greatly- even more we ever thought before. Never give up on God and let Him use you. Don’t worry about your blog stats but just being faithful. At the end of our days, that is the true measure of success in His eyes. God bless.

      1. Jo Blogs Avatar
        Jo Blogs

        Christopher,
        Your comment sent me back to Scripture, which is always a good thing. Isaiah 42:16 reminded me that when my world was turned upside down, God is upholding me through it all. He is the One who carries me, strengthens me daily, comforts me, and gently leads me forward into this new season of writing. I’ve always seen myself as clay in the hands of the Potter, our Creator, and these verses confirmed that again. My life, my limits, and this unexpected path are in His hands. And just as the body of Christ has many members with different gifts, we each serve in different ways. You write beautiful poems and reflections that connect with others like me; some write studies, some share stories — but it is the same God who arranges and uses it all. Thank you for sharing those verses and for the encouragement. P.S. If your notifications start pinging every five to seven hours because I’ve posted again, just put my notifications on vibrate :-) — God seems to be setting my schedule these days! God bless you.

  • The Meaning of Grace.

    The Meaning of Grace.

    Grace, Faith, Hope, and Love Series. Part 1.

    Introduction.

    There are moments in life when we realise how dependent we are on kindness we did not earn. Grace is the quiet, unexpected generosity that stops us in our tracks — the forgiveness we didn’t deserve, the strength we didn’t have, the love that met us when we were empty. This series begins with grace because everything in the Christian life flows from it. Without grace, none of the other words — faith, hope, or love — make sense. Grace tells us that God comes toward us first. Before we believe, before we understand, before we change, He reaches out with mercy. This is where the journey begins.

    Grace is one of the most beautiful and generous words in the Christian faith. It tells the story of God’s kindness reaching toward humanity, not because we deserve it, but because He is a God who delights to give. At its heart, grace speaks of favour freely bestowed — what the New Testament expresses with the Greek word charis, meaning gift. To understand grace is to stand before the generosity of God and realise that every step of salvation rests on His initiative. Grace is not a concept to admire from a distance; it is the atmosphere of the Christian life, drawing us into a relationship shaped by love, humility, and grateful dependence.

    Grace Overflowing from the Fullness of Christ.

    Grace begins with Jesus Himself. John’s Gospel gives us a vision of divine generosity that pours from the very person of Christ: “For from his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace.” (John 1:16, ESV 2007). This is not grace in small measure or grace handed out cautiously. It is grace upon grace — layer upon layer, wave after wave, abundance flowing from the fullness of the Word made flesh.

    When we consider the fullness of Christ, we see more than an example or a teacher. We see the One in whom the love, truth, compassion, and goodness of God dwell without limit. The grace He gives is not separated from who He is. It is the natural overflow of His divine life. Every healing touch, every word of forgiveness, every invitation to the weary reveals grace reaching toward those who could never earn it. To receive grace is to receive Christ Himself, and to live in grace is to live within the radiance of His presence.

    Grace as the Gift that Justifies.

    If grace is overflowing in the person of Christ, it is equally central to the work He came to accomplish. Paul declares that believers “are justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus.” (Romans 3:24, ESV 2007). Here, grace is not sentiment. It is the means by which God declares the guilty forgiven, restoring fellowship and removing the burden of sin.

    To be justified by grace means that our standing before God does not depend on our moral record or spiritual achievement. Redemption rests entirely in Christ’s sacrifice. Grace is the gift that takes what we could never repair and places it into the hands of the Redeemer who covers our sin with His righteousness. The soul that grasps this truth encounters profound relief: the pressure to prove oneself fades, and trust in the sufficiency of Christ grows. Grace shifts the centre of the Christian life away from performance and toward gratitude, humility, and worship.

    This gift also reshapes our understanding of ourselves. When justification comes by grace, worth is no longer tied to success or failure. Instead, the believer stands secure in the love of God, held by a redemption that does not fluctuate with emotion or circumstance. Grace frees us from fear because it anchors us in a salvation accomplished once for all by Christ.

    Grace as the Way of Salvation.

    Grace does not merely justify; it saves. Paul writes with unmistakable clarity: “For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God.” (Ephesians 2:8, ESV 2007). These words strike at the root of human self-reliance. Salvation is not something we climb toward by effort. It is not a prize for the disciplined or the virtuous. It is the gift of God. Every part of the journey — the awakening of faith, the turning of the heart, the forgiveness of sins, the life that follows — unfolds through grace.

    This truth brings immense peace. If salvation depended on our strength, it would always hang in uncertainty. But because it rests on God’s grace, it stands secure on His unchanging character. Faith becomes not an achievement but an open hand receiving what God freely gives. Grace makes salvation accessible to every person, regardless of background, history, or personal frailty. It creates a doorway wide enough for the proud to be humbled and the broken to be restored.

    Grace also invites us into a life of trust. As the gift of salvation is received by faith, the believer learns to depend on God in every season. Grace teaches us that spiritual life is not sustained by our power but by God’s continual kindness. The journey of faith becomes a rhythm of receiving, trusting, and responding to the One who carries us.

    Grace Appearing for All People.

    Grace is not hidden or selective. Paul tells Titus, “For the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation for all people.” (Titus 2:11, ESV 2007). The coming of Christ was the appearing of grace — visible, tangible, embodied. Grace stepped into history, walked among us, and opened the way of salvation for all who would receive Him.

    This universal scope does not mean that all are automatically saved, but rather that grace extends its invitation freely. No nation, class, or personality lies beyond its reach. The grace that appeared in Christ is wide enough to embrace the humble and the hardened, the religious and the rebellious, the strong and the weary. It stands at the door of every life with the same generous announcement: salvation has come.

    The appearing of grace also reveals its transforming purpose. Grace does not simply save; it leads into a new life shaped by Christ. When God’s kindness touches the heart, the old patterns of self-reliance and self-centredness begin to loosen. Desire shifts. Hope grows. A quiet strength emerges. Grace restores dignity, renews the will, and trains the soul in the ways of holiness. It does not coerce change but cultivates it, nurturing life like gentle rain on parched ground.

    Living within the Gift of Grace.

    To understand grace is to stand in awe of the God who gives without calculation. Grace is His posture toward the world — favour offered to the unworthy, generosity poured out on the needy, kindness that does not wait for improvement. The believer who lives under grace discovers freedom from the anxiety of performance. There is no need to impress God because Christ has already fulfilled what we never could. There is no fear of rejection because grace holds us even when we falter.

    Grace also reshapes our relationships. When we have received unearned kindness, we learn to show kindness without demand. Forgiveness flows more readily. Patience deepens. Compassion widens. Grace softens the heart so that it begins to reflect the very character of the God who has shown mercy.

    Most of all, grace draws us near to Christ. It is from His fullness that we receive grace upon grace. It is through His sacrifice that we are justified. It is by His work that we are saved. It is in His appearing that grace has come for all people. Every thread of grace leads back to Him. The Christian life becomes a lifelong journey of drawing from His fullness — always receiving, always growing, always held by the gift of God.

    In the end, grace is the song of the redeemed: a melody of gratitude, wonder, and joy. It tells us that we are loved beyond measure, rescued without merit, and sustained by divine generosity at every turn. Grace is God’s gift, God’s favour, and God’s invitation into a life transformed by His unfailing kindness.

    In simple terms, the Christian message is this: we have all turned away from God, but Jesus died for our sins and rose again so we can be forgiven, reconciled to God, and given new life. This grace is offered to you: you can turn to Him, ask for forgiveness, and trust Him with your life today.

    Dedication to Honour my Parents.

    Writing about God’s grace, faith, hope, and love has brought back many memories of how I first learned these things at home. My mother lived out her Christian faith quietly and steadily — the kind of love that holds a family together, organises its life, and gives more than receives. My father worked hard, provided faithfully, and always said, “If your mother is happy, I’m happy,” reflecting a simple devotion that shaped our home.

    Their lives were loving and put the needs of others first. Their kindness, steadiness, and trust in God moulded me as a child and has always stayed with me.
    These four reflections are written in loving remembrance of them, and in gratitude to the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit — the true source of every good thing they taught me.