 English translation of a talk I delivered for a 'Prayers for Peace' meeting in Germany this week: Martin Luther King is famous for having ‘a dream’ – a vision from God of a bright new reality that he was willing to live and die for. For him, peace was far more than the absence of conflict. After all, people, communities and even nations can co-exist alongside one-another for a time, even if there are tensions, grievances or injustices in and between them.* We see an example in history of ‘Pax Romana’ – a peace of sorts that the Roman Empire established and maintained by the overwhelming force of the military, rather than through building positive relationships between neighbouring peoples and societies. It was a way of holding an empire together by active coercion and brutal suppression of all dissent. The Roman historian, Tacitus, commented that, ‘They (the Romans) make a desert and call it peace.’ This was the world into which Jesus Christ was born. It helps us understand the dilemma for Pilate when some Jewish leaders said Jesus claimed to be King of the Jews. If the accusation were true, it could be a threat to ‘Pax Romana’. Pilate was forced to act. Martin Luther King calls this ‘negative peace’. It’s often better than open violence or war, yet because the underlying issues are not addressed or resolved, it’s likely to be a fragile state that could collapse at any time. Martin Luther King advocated for a ‘positive peace’, characterised by an active reaching towards the ‘other’ with love, forgiveness and hope. This is the peace we see modelled by Jesus Christ who reaches out actively towards us. He doesn’t ignore the problems and challenges but takes positive initiative to resolve them. This is what he calls us to do too. It’s a peace that reflects the Hebrew idea of ‘Shalom’ (שָׁלוֹם) – a holistic peace that includes restoration, safety, wholeness, harmony and wellbeing. As we look across the world today and see increasing tensions, conflicts and wars, let’s pray for a positive peace that is so much more than an absence of violence. Let’s pray especially for those who are so blinded by hate, hurt or self-interest that they can’t even imagine a different way or future. Let’s pray – with God’s help – for love, forgiveness and hope. *(e.g. Treaty of Versailles (1919); Treaty of Trianon (1920); Korean Armistice Agreement (1953); Israel-Lebanon May 17 Agreement (1983); Dayton Accord – Bosnia and Herzegovina (1995); Northern Ireland 'Peace without Reconciliation' (1998-present); Post-Civil War Libya (2011–present); India-Pakistan Ceasefire Agreement (2003/2021); Gaza Peace Plan (2025))
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 English translation of a short talk I delivered at a Prayers for Peace meeting in Germany last night: A few years ago, a colleague in the UK, Rick James, was the keynote speaker at a forum for international development experts from around the world. Rick is a follower of Jesus and is widely respected in this arena for his own work in many different countries, especially in those that are poor. As the participants waited eagerly to hear his words of knowledge, wisdom and expertise, Rick sat quietly for a moment then said, unexpectedly, ‘There is so much I don’t understand.’ What an astonishing opening for a presentation. It demonstrated deep humility in the face of a complex world in which so much is truly beyond human comprehension. As we look at the news today, for instance, in spite of our prayers for 4 years, the world seems to be getting worse. Who could have imagined a month ago that the USA and Israel would attack Iran? Who could have imagined that, as a consequence, Russia is now even stronger than before to attack Ukraine? This may test our faith and challenge our hope. Some of you may have heard of Henri Nouwen, the Dutch priest who wrote an array of books about spirituality and Christian living. In one of his texts, he advised that, when faced with such painful questions, we should avoid the temptation of offering or accepting simple or easy answers. Instead, he advised that such questions should be raised and faced with honesty. Sometimes this will mean being present yet silent before God and one-another – like here this evening. His guidance reminds me of another priest, Iain Matthew, who is from the UK and lives in Spain. Iain offers profound reflections on the biblical account where Jesus is at a wedding in Cana and the host runs out of wine. It’s a painfully embarrassing situation for the host and we can imagine how, if we were there as his guests, we might try quickly to hide it, reassure him or find a solution. We might also call on Jesus to do what we think is best, what we think is needed to fix it. Yet here is Mary now. 'She perceives the need and names it, ‘They have no wine’ – without prescribing a solution. She takes it, holds it, and allows it to ache before Jesus.' Iain suggests this may be, at times, a pattern for prayer, 'to feel our way to a wound that is in us (perhaps a hurt or disappointment that our prayers seem unanswered), to go the place of our need.' He suggests, 'Go there, name it and hold it before Christ.' In doing so, we offer our doubts, confusion and fears to God. He then goes further, inviting us 'to feel our way to the wounds in this world, to those people or situations in dire need of help or healing. To go there, take them, name them, and hold them before Jesus. To go there, not to dictate to Christ what the answer should be or what he should do about it, but to hold the wound before him.' This is prayerful advocacy. We play our part by presenting our concerns and hopes before God in trust, and Jesus is Lord – the wisdom of God and the power of God.  ‘Carpe diem – Seize the day. Make your lives extraordinary.’ (Dead Poets Society) As I head off to Germany this weekend, my head is already filled with thoughts about a Future Leaders’ Programme, inspired by Jasmin, that I’ll be running for students in the Philippines next week alongside good friends: Eugene D’Cruz in Malaysia, Peirong Lin in Germany, Smita Singh in India and Mike Wilson in the UK. I’ll focus on Personal Leadership; Eugene on Gen Z Leadership; Peirong on Spiritual Leadership; Smita on EI Leadership and Mike on Visionary Leadership. It’s exciting to be part of this brand-new initiative that seeks to inspire graduating students to look inwards, upwards and outwards as they imagine and approach their futures. Who knows, after all, what part they could play in transforming Filipino society and beyond? Jasmin’s vision is to invest in real people, the poor. She prays in faith and hope, then looks to see who or what may emerge. I feel privileged to be involved and grateful to these friends for their unequivocal support.  ‘The people walking in darkness have seen a great light.’ (The Bible) You may have heard it said a picture can paint a thousand words. This image (above), captured by Jasmin’s daughter, Mary, this week, spoke more to me about the authentic meaning of Christmas than any I’ve seen on glitzy, tacky TV ads. Jasmin, Mary, Paul and a small group of inspired students in the Philippines spent their Christmas bringing good news to the poor. Their first venture involved taking gifts and running a fun-filled party for 127 poverty-stricken children and their families who live in a cemetery. It brought hope to people on the margins of society who so often live without hope. The joy on the children’s faces was incredible. That brought joy to Jasmin and her helpers too. True light brings light, and it reflects back too. Today, Christmas day, Jasmin, Mary and Paul ventured out again, this time to take gifts and the message of Divine love to 173 poverty-stricken children and families who live on the streets. The look of surprise and joy on their faces was life-giving too. They could never have imagined being seen, valued and loved like this. The people walking in darkness have seen a great Light.  ‘I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’ (Jesus Christ) To the poorest of the poor, to be seen is to be acknowledged, recognised, valued. It affirms, ‘I exist’. No – more than exist. ‘I matter’. Some could even dare to venture, ‘I am loved’. Jasmin sees these children playing in a cemetery. Others don’t see them. They are invisible. They don’t matter. Locals warn Jasmin not to get involved with these kids. They live among the mausolea and tombstones in a makeshift community that’s renowned for being badly crime-ridden and dangerous. Their words of caution are well-grounded. A visitor before Jasmin was stabbed, and later a woman was shot dead in front of her when she returned to see these kids. Yet this doesn’t deter her. Jasmin gets alongside the children and their families, takes an interest in their lives and wellbeing and, gradually, they begin to experience being…seen. It takes them by surprise at first, not sure what to make of this humble saint whose smiling gaze makes them, somehow, feel more human. Jasmin tells them with heartfelt conviction that Jesus sees them too, through eyes filled with love, hope and possibility. They start to imagine a different future. Jasmin runs a lively summer school for the unschooled children. Some of the mums get inspired and start to take more ownership of their environment and community. Two years ago, Jasmin asked the children what they’d love for Christmas. They didn’t know what to say. They’d never had a Christmas. Their families were too poor to buy food or gifts. They asked for roll-up mattresses to keep them warm at night, shielding them from the hard cold of the tomb stones. 127 mattresses, 1 for every child, arrived that Christmas Day. Last year, she asked again. This time: ‘A school bag’ Christmas Day – 127 strong and brightly coloured school bags arrived. This year: ‘Please, fresh pants and girls' sanitary items’. (That really humbled me). Jasmin is wrapping 127 beautiful gifts today. She sees them. Jesus sees them. Each child has a name.  ‘Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgment that something else is more important than fear.’ (Ambrose Redmoon) I don’t know if I’d be brave enough. Heading out into the mountains to reach the poorest and most vulnerable is a noble task, not least to demonstrate to those who feel vulnerable and abandoned that they’re not alone, not forgotten, and that someone sees them. One little girl galvanised Jasmin’s determination. She had messaged her Dad, pleading for him to find a way to get to her. She felt scared. He was some distance away in a city, working in a school in a low-paid job, trying to earn enough money to send her and her family emergency supplies. Yet she wanted him there beside her, to feel safer. The recent earthquakes in the Philippines, along with on-going aftershocks some 3 weeks later, have left their family home in ruins. Now living under a tarpaulin in the pouring rain, this girl has, thankfully, salvaged a solar charger which has given her enough power to charge up her cell phone. Her Mum is doing what she can to share their dwindling supplies of rice with others trapped in similar circumstances in their remote vicinity. Mudslides and sink holes make reaching them treacherous. Mountain tracks swept away or blocked by fallen trees and debris make a difficult journey almost impossible. Jasmin can’t read a map and a wise friend cautions her about the risks. I ask her, ‘How will you find your way through the jungle, across such impassable terrain, to reach them?’ I know that, in Jasmin’s mind, I’m asking the wrong question. ‘Wouldn’t it be better to go with someone who knows those mountains?’ I sense my questions are falling on deaf ears. I’m talking about logistics, safety and other rational considerations. Jasmin ‘s first priorities are love, faith and a yearning to be-with. She wants to make real the presence of Jesus, to be alongside them in situ, to see and hear first hand what they need.  ‘Bad things do happen in the world like war, natural disasters and disease. But out of those situations always arise stories of ordinary people doing extraordinary things.’ (Daryn Kagan) A recent qualitative research study in Peru in the aftermath of El Niño (2025) could have equally applied to life and communities in places like the Philippines. In terms of psychosocial impacts of ‘natural’ disasters and their intersecting contributory causes, the pattern is all too painfully familiar. People and communities in various parts of the Philippines this week are living with the physical, psychological and emotional aftershocks of shattering earthquakes, compounded by the damaging effects of devastating typhoons. I hesitate to use the word natural. Although we wouldn’t attribute the underlying causes of earthquakes to human activity, we couldn’t say the same of violent tropical storms where human-impacted climate change is an increasingly significant factor. A disaster occurs when hazard meets vulnerability. The poor are often the most vulnerable to the causes and impacts of hazards, including the ability to avoid, mitigate or recover from them – and poverty, albeit a complex phenomenon itself, is far from a ‘natural’ state. The research report I alluded to above identifies a number of interrelated issues that impact on psychosocial health: personal memories and lived experience of previous disasters; chronic and acute effects of the disaster (‘It’s not a now problem; it’s an always problem’); attributing blame and responsibilities; coping and resilience (including faith and relational dimensions); psychosocial distress (including personal and vicarious trauma); perceived (un)fairness in aid distribution; systemic corruption and distrust. Against this complex and, in some ways, overwhelming backdrop, I’m still inspired and find hope in the faith and actions of those people who transcend self-interest to stand alongside those in need. Jasmin lacks the material and political resources to address the macro issues, yet persistently steps out of her comfort zone directly into disaster zones equipped only with a spiritual presence (a ‘sacred encounter’) – Divine love – that, in its own unique way, offers deep psychosocial healing and hope – and the strength to go on.  ‘My scars remind me that I did indeed survive my deepest wounds.’ (Steve Goodier)
The earthquakes that shook the Philippines recently shook me too, albeit on the other side of the world. On hearing that her parents’ simple home made from timber and corrugated iron had collapsed, one young woman trekked there from a city with emergency supplies of water and food. I try to imagine what that must feel like. News reports had shown that one family’s home nearby had been buried by a landslide triggered by the earthquake. Only their baby survived. This young woman didn’t know what to expect. Mud tracks were blocked by fallen trees and communications were down. Still, she persevered. On approaching what had been a village, desperate people pleaded with her with open hands for some drinking water. What a terrible ethical and emotional dilemma to face. To save her own family or to save these strangers? (I feel sure I’d prioritise my own loved ones, then try to learn to live with the guilt as well as I could). Thank God, she found her parents alive, living alongside others under makeshift tarpaulins. Pouring rain at the wet tail end of a typhoon hadn’t helped. People were forced to lift their few salvaged possessions as high as they could off the ground to keep them dry, then to sit on the muddy ground, clasping their knees, until it passed. This determined young woman, she herself poor, will head back again this week armed with faith, hope and love – and all the supplies she can muster.  ‘The German Bible calls the Holy Spirit the Beistand – literally, the One who stands beside us.’ Prayers for Peace. For over 3 years now, since Russia invaded Ukraine, this small and dedicated group of people have met every Wednesday evening in a cold stone church building in Germany, often warmed only by flickering candles and their burning desire to see a different world. The crucified Saviour in the background felt especially poignant tonight. The focus was on Israel-Gaza, praying for all sides of the conflict and standing in spirit beside all people suffering unspeakable pain. As we arrived, I stood slightly outside of the group, leaning against a wooden pew. I’d been sitting down all day writing an article and I needed to stretch to avoid discomfort I have with nerve pain. Just before the prayers were about to start, one of the leaders tip-toed gently across the room and stood silently beside me, without looking at me or saying a word. I’m a visitor from England, a stranger and yet, in the midst of the darkness, I too was touched by their simple act of solidarity.  ‘It's not how much we give but how much love we put into giving.’ (Mother Theresa) ‘I don’t own a purse because, with God’s help, I give everything away.’ As this humble Filipina revealed a rare glimpse of this personal dimension of her life of faith, I was struck by how she said it with absolutely no air of virtue-signalling. It was so matter of fact, as if speaking a self-evident truth for all followers of Jesus, everywhere. It challenged me as I glanced at my own wallet on the table. I’ve never met anyone so principled. I mean, it’s one thing to share from the edges of our excess wealth. It’s quite another thing to be very poor and not to cling on hard to the little we have. Yet I’ve seen her live out this faith, day after day and year after year. It’s humbling and inspiring and I’ve never witnessed so many miracles as those I’ve seen God work through her. True faith = love + trust. |
Nick WrightI'm a psychological coach, trainer and OD consultant. Curious to discover how can I help you? Get in touch! 
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