God told a prophet to go down to the potter’s house. “Then I went down to the potter’s house, and there he was, making something at the wheel.” Jeremiah 18:3. He saw a pot being shaped on the wheel—spinning, turning, pressed and reformed. It’s not a dramatic scene. It’s not loud or flashy. It’s slow. To the pot, it's repetitive, even monotonous. But to the Potter, it is a moment to create beauty. He doesn’t rush. He doesn’t skip steps. He uses time and repetition to mold the clay into something beautiful.
And that is the way it is. We would like instant transformation, but God also works through process. Through seasons. Through time on the wheel.
Monotony is not your enemy—it’s your maker. Without it, you won’t stay married. You won’t stay employed. You cannot have a new wife, a new house, a new job or a new church each month. We think we’re ready to be with people for eternity, but some of us can’t even last ten years in a marriage or three years in a job. We want character and stability, but society tells us repetition is boring. Yet it’s in the repetition that character is formed.
So don’t despise the wheel. You may feel like nothing is changing, but if the wheel is turning, the Potter is working. Thank God for time. And remember, time is also God’s way of making sure all of life’s character-forming troubles don’t hit us in one day. It spreads the weight. It gives us space. It allows us to grow. And in His time, God makes all things beautiful. It has to take time because He is not just preparing you for today—He’s preparing your character and heart for eternity.

The Syrian army was threatening Israel, so King Ahab asked King Jehoshaphat of Judah to help fight them. Ahab hatched a cunning plan. He said to King Jehosaphat, “I will disguise myself in the battle…but you put on your kingly robes.” So during the fight, the Syrians mistook Jehoshaphat for Ahab and pursued him—until they realised he wasn’t the king of Israel. Ahab thought his disguise worked, but then a random arrow from the Syrians struck the galloping Ahab between the joints of his armour, and he died. 1 Kings 22. The decision not to dress like a king cost him his life. The enemy abandoned the one wearing royal robes and killed the one who wasn’t. The enemy still targets believers who won’t wear their kingly spiritual garments.

Last year, I met my cousin and her husband, Michael Rose, for coffee in Devonport. He’s a knighted military general, highly decorated, and once served as the Queen's aide-de-camp, but in casual clothes, he was anonymous in the café. He didn’t look like he had commanded armies in England, the Falklands and Bosnia. No one recognised the authority he carried—because he wasn’t wearing his uniform.

That’s how we can live too. We’ve been given spiritual authority. Clothed with Christ. Endued with the Spirit. But if we don’t put it on our spiritual garments, people may not be helped; they may or may not even sense it, but the devil will.

Friends, let’s not live like we’re empty.  Before we leave the house, let's get ready. Dress like sons and daughters of the Highest, because the world is waiting, both heaven and hell are watching, and our Father is calling us to wear Him into the battle.

Yesterday, marchers for Palestine filled the streets, and cries of genocide filled the media. Today, both sides rejoice, the rubble remains, and we think, “Did Israel need Gaza that badly and why?

Believers’ views can swing between either denouncing or deifying the modern state of Israel.  Of course, the land and people of Israel are deeply significant but we shouldn’t confuse covenants of promise with nationalism. God’s covenant with Abraham was never tribal or nationalistic—it was global: “Through you all the families of the earth will be blessed” (Genesis 12:3). This promise can only find its fulfilment in Christ, Abraham’s true seed (Galatians 3:16). The idea that Christians must support every political action or territorial claim of Israel to avoid divine curses is not rooted in Scripture, but in commentary—especially the Schofield Reference Bible which interpreted Genesis 12:3 as a geopolitical mandate, equating the establishment of God’s covenant with political Zionism. The promise of blessing was to Abraham personally, not to every decision of a future nation-state. The promise of everlasting possession of land was to Abraham and his seed, which ultimately is Christ.  National land promises were conditional on faith and obedience. Israel was exiled to Babylon for disobedience, and in the New Testament, after the believing Jews became the church, the gospel went to the Gentiles. Eventually, under duress, the Jewish people were dispersed throughout the world.

Of course, nations have the right to defend themselves, but the New Testament never commands believers to support every expansionist war or every political decision made by Israel, America or other nations.

Does God love the Jewish people? Absolutely. He still weeps over Jerusalem. But their inheritance is now found in Jesus, not geography. We pray for peace for Jerusalem, salvation for Jews, for an end to all wars and that world leaders can maintain peace. To me, 2-state, 1-state, or 3-state is not an issue. If God meant for Jewish faithful to live in the land forever, forever begins when Jesus returns. Then all God’s redeemed, Jews and gentiles (Palestinians, Kiwis and others), will inherit not only the land of Israel, but the whole earth too.

This week, I caught up with my great friend David McCracken. I went away so grateful for his friendship because none of us has ever got to where we are by ourselves.  Every person in our lives builds something into our souls. Some bring strength and some bring sorrow, but real friends always affect your faith for good. Their influence draws you closer to God.  Proverbs says to pick your friends thoughtfully “lest you learn his ways” (Pro 22:24-25).  In other words, we become like those we hang out with.

 Jonathan and David weren’t natural kin, yet Jonathan “loved David as his own soul” (1 Sam 18:3). He stripped off his royal robe, gave David his armour, and willingly promoted his rival—because he recognised David’s value to God.

A real friend isn’t a competitor or a critic—they’re a champion for your calling. They rejoice at your promotions, feel your pain and guard your heart against pride. They stay closer than a brother, bearing your burdens, celebrating your wins, and protecting your reputation.

Friend, have you got someone who fans your faith, stirs your passion for Jesus, and helps you navigate life’s battles? They are like a Jonathan. Thank God for them: they are your treasure, and ask God to help you grow into that kind of friend for someone else. Why not write or phone to affirm their gifting?

If they are like a David to you, who you want to serve: declare their destiny, offer your prayer and practical help and commit to standing with them through every battle.

Joshua gazed out over the Promised Land; it was breathtaking—a place of inheritance, destiny, and fulfilment. But then there was Jericho! A fortified stronghold stood between God’s people and the land He had promised them. God didn’t remove it; He told Joshua to be strong, because every inheritance given by God must be claimed by us. Until we are strong enough to take it, we won't be strong enough to hold on to it. God knows we can’t change what we won’t confront. Strongholds are real. For us, they are not ancient cities, but patterns of thinking, habits, fears, or lies that we’ve believed for years. Strongholds keep us from stepping into the life God has planned for us. And the biggest stronghold is almost always this: wrong thinking about who we are and what we have in Christ. In Christ, you are strong—not because of your personality or a perfect past, but because of the power of the Holy Spirit within you. As disciples, we must understand that how Jesus lived serves as a model for our daily walk and that Heaven empowers us in our humanly impossible tasks. God has given us ample power through the Holy Spirit to enter into His inheritance, which He has invited us to share with Him. 

Friend, we are not meant to live limited by strongholds. We are meant to tear them down. So today, face the stronghold. Name it. Confront it, because all the land and all the promises of God are yours and yes in Christ. Come on, every time it lies to you, shout it down! The only thing between you and possessing all that He has made yours is the decision to be strong in Him.

In Messina, we saw the biggest ancient astronomical clock in Italy. As we waited, lions roared, roosters screeched, and when the angels and saints inched around the circle, it seemed to take forever. Sometimes we think that it goes too slow, but in God’s hands, it’s a tool. It humbles us. It slows us down. It teaches us to love, to forgive, to endure. Time wasn’t part of Eden’s blueprint. It was God’s gift to humanity the moment we fell. Why? Because redemption takes time. Forgiveness takes a moment, but transformation takes a lifetime. God gave us time to get to know Him and learn to love. One day, “...There should be time no longer.” Revelation 10:6. When redemption is complete, time will have served its purpose. If salvation is just about forgiveness, it could happen in a day. But redemption is about being conformed to the image of Jesus—and that takes time. We’re not just being saved from something; we’re being prepared for Someone. Heaven isn’t just a destination—it’s likeness to Jesus. Time burns slowly, but character is forged, pride is broken, and love is refined. Sometimes even failure is formation. When Rebekah was being brought to Isaac on the camel, it was a time the servant could talk about and reveal the bridegroom to her. By the time they met, she felt like she already knew him.  

Friends, we have the gift of time to sit and talk with Him, so we can get to know Him, and He us, for neither Jesus nor we want to be surprised on the day of the wedding, and find we never knew Him.

Peter saw Jesus on the shore and leapt into the water. He was so glad Jesus was alive, but his heart felt a collision of hope and shame. He carried the weight of denial, fear, and failure, haunted by the memory of his weakness when Jesus needed him most. Yet Jesus didn’t meet him with rebuke or accusation. He asked one question, three times: “Do you love me?” Not “Why did you fail?” or “How could you?”—but “Do you love me?” Because love is the beginning of restoration. In the New covenant, Spirit-empowered love for Jesus is the motivation for obedience, righteousness, and holiness. Jesus knew that if Peter still loved Him, then the future could be redeemed.

This is the mercy of Christ: He doesn’t define us by our worst moment, but He can use it. Our failures humble us, and humility equips us to minister to “lambs” with compassion. Those who’ve tasted brokenness are safest to care for the broken. Jesus didn’t disqualify Peter—He recommissioned him. And He does the same for us. When we miss the moment, shrink back in fear, or fall short in faith, He doesn’t shame us. He simply asks, “Do you love me?” Because if we do, He invites us to walk with Him again and reveal His heart to sheep both lost and found.

Friend, there was only one man on that beach who had never failed.  And Jesus walked in perfect humility because He perfectly loved the Father and perfectly loved people. We don’t love perfectly but when we turn from failure and turn to Him, He can heal the past and free the future. So no matter what happened yesterday, last year, or five minutes ago—He just asks, “Do you really love me?” Yes, Lord. “Well, we can go on from there!”

Anneke and I went to Malta in June to see St Paul’s Bay. We saw mega yachts, tourists, but no snakes. After his shipwreck, Paul washed up on the island of Malta, cold and wet, but alive. “But when Paul had gathered a bundle of sticks and laid them on the fire, a viper came out because of the heat, and fastened on his hand… But he shook off the creature into the fire and suffered no harm.” — Acts 28:3,5. The locals assumed he was cursed, a murderer who had escaped the sea only to be judged by fate. But Paul didn’t defend himself; he simply shook the snake off into the fire and kept going. People who don’t know God often judge your worth by your wounds. They see the bites and assume you’re cursed. But they don’t know the promise over your life. They didn’t know that neither storm nor shipwreck could stop him, and this snake wouldn’t either.

The enemy may try to poison your purpose, but if God says you’re going to Rome, the only one who can stop you is you. Maybe you’ve failed. Maybe you’ve fallen. Maybe you’ve given in to temptation, lost your temper, wasted time, or doubted your worth. But God isn’t shocked by your weakness. He knew every failure before you made it—and He still chose you. His forgiveness is not for once but forever.

 Friend, the enemy may bite, but he can’t stop you from reaching your destiny unless you let him. The venom isn’t in the bite; it’s in the belief that you’re finished. God won’t give you a promise that someone else can ruin. So shake off the shame. Shake off the fear. Shake off small vision and go on, because if Heaven started your journey, hell can’t stop it.