 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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 ‘Fear is a shadow that always walks behind you, speaking in your ear that you must watch your back, carry the basics and look for exit routes, lest you need to run for your life.’ (Fiyaz Mughal) Shortly before she died, a friend and colleague, Rachael, talked to me openly about her Jewish faith. It was against the backdrop of the UK and wider Europe receiving a significant influx of people seeking asylum from countries with predominantly Muslim populations. ‘To be honest, Nick, I have never felt so afraid in my life.’ Rachael was living in London and genuinely feared for her safety. As she spoke, she talked about very real threats from three pincer movement-like sources: Islamist extremists; anti-Israel Leftists; xenophobic far-Right. I could feel her fear, sense her deep anxiety, and I felt powerless. I didn’t know what to say or do. As we left the café where we had been speaking, we passed by a woman at the side of the road dressed in Muslim clothing and selling copies of the Big Issue (a magazine sold by homeless people to earn a living). To my surprise and shame, I noticed a slight yet perceptible tension in my body, having just heard Rachael’s story. No! – I stopped myself. This is how it starts. I turned around, walked back, bought a copy and thanked the woman with a smile. A Christian Palestinian colleague in Jordan helped me to process this experience. He commented that, in his region and in the wider world today, sectarian tribalism is a significant challenge. ‘Each group takes sides with whomever they feel an identity with and an empathy for. In stark contrast, followers of Jesus are called distinctively to show concern for all sides as fellow human beings, loved by and created in the image of God.’ This is a high calling and a difficult task. How to stand-with in solidarity, without standing-against in hostility? I pray God help us.  English translation of a short talk I delivered at a Prayers for Peace meeting in Germany this week: What a week. Peter Hegseth, the US Minister of War, declared brazenly that “We negotiate with bombs”, then prayed at the Pentagon for “overwhelming violence of action against those who deserve no mercy” – “in the name of Jesus Christ.” I’m not sure which version of the Bible he is reading but something very seriously seems to have been lost or omitted in translation. Some Christian friends, Ian and Samantha, used to drive around in the UK in a VW Campervan with a sticker emblazoned across the back window that asked: “Who would Jesus bomb?” It was a satirical question yet begged the more thoughtful response: “Nobody.” Violence and bombing – in Jesus’ name – is a cynical political distortion and a total contradiction in terms. So, to the real Jesus now. (The one we see portrayed here in the crucifix at the front of this church). This is the Jesus who sacrificed his own life…listen carefully to this…for whom the writer Paul describes in the Bible as “God’s enemies”. We can imagine Hegseth squirming squeamishly at this news: “No! This is all wrong!” Yet Jesus calls us, as disciples, to follow his example. Jesus spoke very directly about this: “Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you." It is (paraphrased) in the Lord’s prayer too: “Forgive us when we behave like an enemy, in the same way we forgive others who behave like enemies towards us.” Paul reiterates this ethic when he says: “Do not repay evil for evil.” I find this really challenging. It recognises there are others we may rightly regard as enemies, and who will regard us as enemies too. The Bible doesn’t shy away from that. Yet it calls us beyond forgiveness – to love. Does that mean to love Putin? To love the Islamist regime in Iran? (To love the warmongering Hegseth too?). It seems to push hard against all sense of justice. Difficult as it is to say this, I believe Jesus would answer with an unequivocal “Yes.” Love is God’s antidote to hate and the only true means of hope. Whoever we regard to be on “the other side”, on “the wrong side” – we are called to pray for them. Forgiveness and love hold out open hands and open hearts, even when it feels humanly impossible to do so. May God help us do it.  ‘I’m a little pencil in the hand of a writing God, who is sending a love letter to the world.’ (Mother Teresa) During my final cold night in Tbilisi last week, I was walking to pray in an ancient orthodox church when I noticed an elderly woman foraging in bins beside the road, presumably looking for food. I saw her, but I didn’t stop. I even had some Georgian cash in my pocket but somehow convinced myself I would need it to buy food and drink at the airport the next morning. Once I reached the church and stood in front of a cross, I quickly came back to my senses and left almost immediately again to try to find the woman to give her what I had…but it was too late. She had melted into the darkness and I chastised myself: ‘How could I have been so selfish, to put my own needs before hers?’ I felt desperately ashamed, and rightly so. Lesson to self: When you see the need, don’t overthink – just do it.  ‘Father, forgive them because they don’t know what they’re doing.’ (Jesus Christ) I spent some days last week on a retreat at a Franciscan friary in the bitterly-cold North East of England. It’s something I choose to do each New Year these days – a retreat, that is, not to half freeze to death in a stone-built monastery. It’s a way of transitioning from the past year to the new, a spiritual defragmentation or reset of sorts, with a renewed and refreshed focus on God. The biggest challenge each time is to get over myself, to somehow disentangle myself enough from the fog of my own mental and emotional hopes, fears and preoccupations to see...Jesus. A recurring theme that emerged for me during my times of prayer and reflection was power. I read two starkly-contrasting accounts of people at Auschwitz during the Nazi era: the brutal guard Irma Grese who used her structural power to commit the most unspeakable acts of violence against prisoners, vs the self-sacrificing Franciscan friar Maximillian Kolbe who used his personal power to die in the place of another prisoner. Both were ordinary human beings. A critical, defining difference in that moment, in that context, was how each abused or used their power. I sat now in the candle-lit chapel, gazing at a harrowing figure of Jesus Christ, represented here as apparently-powerless, cruelly-beaten and tortured on a cross, straining upwards to glimpse his heavenly Father. It struck me how the world has become dominated (again) by power figures and ideologies, finding their voice through polarising politicians and political religions, and how so many people are flocking to support them. It’s symptomatic of widespread feelings of powerlessness and a desire to increase our own power via their power. Grese vs Kolbe? Father, forgive us.  ‘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.  ‘If you don’t risk anything, you risk even more.’ (Erica Jong) I ran a vision and team development day yesterday for a group of inspiring Christian leaders. Their chosen venue was a football stadium (a new experience) that looked quite breathtaking for someone like me who doesn’t know the first thing about the sport. We grounded the day in a specific spiritual account, then used Appreciative Inquiry to discover, dream, design and decide in relation to it. One of the themes that emerged was, in a social and geopolitical context marked by increasing anxiety, how to avoid manifesting an anxious presence too. After all, the leaders in the group are working in the same contexts and subject to some of the same stresses and dynamics as people living in their wider communities. I was reminded of BANI – brittle, anxious, non-linear and incomprehensible. I glanced out of the window and noticed emblazoned above the stands, ‘Our Loving Devotion Guides our Livelong Dream’ and, beneath that, four short banners that repeated one simple message: 'Fear Nothing. Fear Nothing. Fear Nothing. Fear Nothing.' Love is an antidote to fear. One participant said: ‘What am I willing to do, that others may know they are loved by God?’ That's a courageous question.  ‘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. |
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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