 ‘To Christians, Easter marks a miracle so vast as to be indescribable: the entry of the Creator into his own universe, the irruption of the timeless into time, for the purpose of saving the human race by suffering an excruciating death. To non-Christians, the magnitude of that claim seems not so much far-fetched as deranged.’ (Daniel Hannan) I guess that places me squarely among the deranged, firmly in the midst of those who dare to believe. I was inspired by Jasmin’s account this evening of how Christians in the Philippines mark and celebrate the transition from Good Friday (which represents the day on which Jesus was executed) to Easter Sunday (the day on which he was resurrected, i.e. rose back to life). On the Saturday evening in-between, they meet in total darkness (which represents death) to pray and hear readings from the Bible. At midnight, suddenly, they ignite a fire (which represents new life). The fire blazes brightly in the deep darkness and each person lights a candle from its incandescent flames. This creates a profound image and experience of a community of light. This ritual is a dramatic re-enactment of a spiritual transition, not just in Jesus’ experience but in today's experience too. I remember vividly when, at age 21, my own faith suddenly burst into flames. It felt like being filled with a strange energy, a dazzling, blazing light that completely transformed every dimension of my life, purpose and future. Deranged? Maybe. I dare to believe.
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 I once went on silent retreat at Easter. Early in the morning at chapel, the leader simply played this short video on a huge screen with the volume turned up loud. He didn’t introduce it, he didn’t explain it… I felt like I was in a state of shock for the whole day. It captures so beautifully and so painfully the tragedy of the cross.  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.  ‘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.  ‘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.  ‘Steep your life in God-reality.’ (Jesus Christ) ‘First God’: these are the opening words of The Message. They resonate with the opening line of North American Rick Warren’s book, The Purpose Driven Life: ‘It’s not about you.’ This feels very pertinent to me at the start of this New Year as we mark a symbolic transition. Some use it as an opportunity to make resolutions for the year ahead – that is, to choose this or that change in lifestyle. Others use it as a chance for a life reset – to leave the past behind and move on in the direction of a future that’s more aligned with what they hope for. For me, there’s something deeper, more existential, at stake here. We’re living in at a time where quite a lot of people are starting to have doubts about their doubts about God. What if God-reality turns out to be real and true after all? This begs important questions. Danish Søren Kierkegaard in his reflections on Christian psychology distinguished between an authentic self, rooted in relationship with God, and an inauthentic self, trying to make its own way in the world. According to this view, the opposite of ‘sin’ isn’t virtue, but faith and trust. This critical insight reminds me of German Thomas à Kempis’ paraphrase of Jesus’ teaching in his now-classic text, the Imitation of Christ: ‘If you seek me with all your heart, I will be found by you, says God, and if you seek yourself you will find yourself – but to your own undoing.’ In fact, this seeking theme runs throughout the entire Bible. It’s as if God relentlessly seeks authentic relationship with us, and we are free to choose to look for it – or not – and whether to accept it – or not. This New Year, it looks to me like the ball’s firmly in our court.  ‘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.  ‘Sometimes it takes a natural disaster to reveal a social disaster.’ (Jim Wallis) I didn’t sleep well last night. This time, it wasn’t fake news. Typhoon Tino hit hard and battered central Philippines, leaving at least 188 people dead and thousands of others’ fragile homes and livelihoods shattered. It came on the back of a 6.9 earthquake in the same region just weeks ago that left at least 74 people dead and countless others injured or without homes. Jasmin called me from within the Signal 4 storm itself last night, just before the power cut off. Wind and rain were lashing at her windows, along with windswept objects crashing against the glass. Trees outside were uprooted violently and thrown to the ground. She looked anxious and I felt terrified. The deep flood waters that followed have left much of the area underwater. Thank God, she managed to message me this morning with snapshots of the devastation outside, yet her family safe on the inside. We had prayed hard last night – Jasmin with faith and me in near desperation – and I had a mysterious dream of Jesus alongside her there, reflecting a supernatural biblical account of Presence and survival in impossible circumstances.  ‘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.  ‘Give yourself a gift of five minutes of contemplation in awe of everything you see around you.’ (Wayne Dyer) I love spending time under German motorway bridges. I know that may sound a bit dodgy or weird, yet there’s something about the majestic hidden architecture that I find completely awe- inspiring. The tall pillars supporting the structure above have, for me, an evocative, ancient, temple-like appearance. Standing in those places, allowing myself to feel mysteriously lifted outside of myself, has a kind of spiritual quality to it that I struggle to express easily in words. Finding expansive places like this, whether in awesome mountain ranges or standing on a beach gazing out across open skies and sea, is a stark contrast to feeling hemmed in or pressed down by the day-to-day pressures of everyday life. It creates a moment to breathe in deeply, to feel the freedom and joy of space. I find that expansive, interior space in prayer, in God, too. Contemplation is, for me, presence to the awe-striking Presence who is already present with us. |
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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