If you were to consider the call of a minister of the gospel, and you'll know why this is particularly apt for me right now, it is easy to imagine the role as one of preservation. We call the minister, and we ask that he or she keeps things as they are, that they take on a role of executive guardion of our local tradition, and that they always, regardless of its brevity or impact, protect what already exists. Yet the New Testament paints a very different picture. Ministers of the Gospel are not conservationists; they are agents of the Spirit, ushering in the divine work of death and resurrection. This will be a hard swallow for many congregations across Scotland, hoping for a bit more of the same. Give what you always give, get what you always get. The Lord himself has called time on all of that, so i'm sorry to say. Jesus Himself declared, didnt he: “Unless a grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it produces much grain.” (John 12:24). This is

In a world tangled in urgency, you can step off the flow of the current. It isn't grand. It's no trumpet of resistance. No proclamation. It's just a moment, a breath, deep and unhurried. And in that breath, you'll feel the fracture in the rhythm of the world around you, the chasm between rush and rest, between existence and being. They don’t tell you stillness is a revolution. Not the loud, marching kind. Not the sword-swinging kind. But the kind that dares to look time in the eye and say: No. You do not own me. Is hurry our master, is rushing was king? Are mornings devoured by blinking notifications? Nights haunted by the weight of undone things? To be busy seems to be important. To be exhausted seems was to make us worthy. But scripture teaches us that the soul was not built for speed. It bruises quietly, under the weight of constant doing. Now Imagine you walking slower. Tasting your coffee without distraction. Letting silence hum between your thoughts. Imagine no longer running fro