The living archive is loading.
Continue exploring
Connected by scripture or shared themes.
Continue exploring
Connected by scripture or shared themes.
I want to start with a story that might sound familiar to many of us. A family member was dealing with a small leak in their shower and thought, "I can fix that." But one small repair led to another, and another, until they ended up redoing the entire bathroom. By the end, frustrated and exhausted, they realized something important: DIY simply wasn't for them.
I've been thinking about that story a lot, because it made me wonder—how many of us have written ourselves off in certain areas of our lives? Maybe it's DIY, or cooking, or driving. But what really provoked me was this question: Are there places in your life where you've decided something just isn't for you?
I want to be honest with you this morning. Sometimes I feel like my prayer life just isn't satisfactory. Sometimes I've written myself off in prayer. And I wonder if anyone here feels the same way.
But I want to share something that changed everything for me. In Acts 17, Paul addresses the Athenian council and says:
The God who made the world and everything in it is the Lord of heaven and earth... He himself gives everyone life and breath and everything else... God did this so that they would seek him and perhaps reach out for him and find him, though he is not far from any of us.
Here's what I want you to hear this morning: God has purposefully designed you with a desire for himself. You were crafted with a unique longing for God inside of you.
C.S. Lewis wrote: "If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world." That longing you feel—for something beyond yourself, for something deeper—that's not a mistake. That's by design.
Sometimes we hear messages about hunger and desire for God and think, "That's for someone else. That's for the spiritual giants." But I'm telling you this morning: you don't have to beat yourself up anymore. That desire for God is already in you.
But here's the real question: How do we turn a dormant desire for God into an active seeking of God?
Matthew 7:7 gives us the answer:
Ask and it will be given to you. Seek and you will find. Knock and the door will be opened. For everyone who asks receives. The one who seeks finds and the one who knocks the door will be opened.
Jesus says this with such clarity—six times in two verses he uses the words ask, seek, and knock. This passage is an urgent call to pray with intention. Don't wait for the right moment. Don't assume it will happen on its own.
This promise echoes throughout Scripture. Deuteronomy 4:29 says, "If from there you seek the Lord, you will find him." Jeremiah 29 promises, "If you seek me, you will find me." No matter how far you think you've gone, no matter what you've done—if you seek God, you will find him.
The Hebrew word for "seek" means to beat a path. Think about that image. To seek after God is to make a way where there wasn't one before. It means being intentional, deliberate, and brave enough to forge your own spiritual path.
Why did God choose Abraham? Not because Abraham reached the right point on a mountain, but because he was brave enough to leave his own country and beat a path toward God. He left what he knew and went after God deliberately. And when he arrived at that place, God spoke to him about being the father of nations.
You might be following in someone else's beaten path right now—receiving the spiritual fruit of another person's pursuit. And that's good. But God has also called you to beat your own path. To do your own seeking. To be a follower of Jesus who blazes a trail where there wasn't one.
Here's my promise to you this morning: If you seek God this year, you will find him. Not maybe. Not possibly. You will find him.
But how do we actually live a consistent life of seeking God when our attention is pulled in so many different directions? How do we make sure this message doesn't just settle with us in this room and then fade away when we leave?
There's an ancient practice I want to introduce you to called the rule of life. It's not rules for life—it's a structure, a trellis, that helps your spiritual life grow and blossom.
John Mark Comer describes it beautifully: "A schedule and set of practices and relational rhythms that make space for abiding and living in alignment with our deepest desires."
This practice was developed by the desert fathers and formally structured by St. Benedict in the fifth century. For over 1,500 years, believers have used the rule of life as a framework for spiritual growth.
Think of it like this: In John 15, Jesus says, "Abide in me and you will produce much fruit." But the desert fathers asked, "How do we actually do this?" Their answer was simple: We need a trellis—a structure that helps our spiritual life grow. Your prayer life won't just happen on its own. Your spiritual growth won't bloom without intentional rhythms.
Now, I know some of you might cringe at the word "structure." You might think, "Don't box me in. Don't take away my spontaneity." But consider this: William Faulkner said, "I only write when inspiration strikes. Fortunately, it strikes at 9 in the morning." Writers understand that discipline creates the conditions for inspiration.
If we're going to be intentional, spirit-filled prayer warriors, we have to get smart about how we use our time. Without a rule of life, most of us won't really move forward in our prayer lives.
Let me give you a simple framework. Think about prayer practices across different time scales:
Daily: What can you do every single day? Don't try to copy someone else's rhythm. Look at your actual life. Maybe it's 20 minutes in the morning in a particular chair. Maybe it's listening to worship on your bus commute. Maybe it's a moment in your car before you go into your house. The Jewish people historically prayed three times a day—morning, noon, and night. What could your daily anchor points be?
Weekly: Once a week, what could you do to enjoy God's presence more deeply? If you have a partner, maybe you trade off childcare so each of you gets focused time with God. Maybe it's an hour-long walk. Maybe it's a coffee shop visit. Or if you have the time, could you give a full day each week? John Wesley mandated a two-day fast for every Methodist church. What works for your life?
Monthly: We have Turn the Battle coming up at the end of January—a prayer initiative across the UK. Maybe that's part of your monthly rhythm. Or perhaps you set aside 30 minutes one day each month for intentional fasting and prayer. Maybe once a month you can arrange to take a morning or even a day for a personal retreat—drive somewhere, find a quiet place, and seek God's face deliberately.
Yearly: What pilgrimage or retreat could mark your year? The Jewish people traveled to festivals once a year. Maybe that's David's Tent for you. Maybe it's our church weekend away. Maybe it's a two-day personal retreat where you take your journals and intentionally pursue God's presence.
My challenge to you: Fill this out. Give it real thought. If you're in a life group, bring this conversation there. Share your rule of life with others and ask them to keep you accountable. Say, "This is what I'm committing to. Will you help me stick with it?"
Here's why this matters so much. We live in a time of unprecedented competition for our attention. People are willing to pay billions to capture it. Algorithms are designed to keep us scrolling. But Jesus put a desire in you for himself, and he says, "If you will seek me, you will find me."
Consider this: The average believer spends 12 minutes in the bathroom but only 4 minutes in prayer. We spend almost 4 hours a day on screens—about 52 days a year staring at a screen. Over a year, we might spend 100 hours in church, 75 days at work, 8 days playing sports, but only 7 days in prayer.
My question for you this morning is simple: What are you going to do with your time this year? What will you do with the 365 days ahead?
I want to close with this: You know that little thought about God that crosses your mind as you walk to work? Don't belittle it. That small longing that bubbles up as you sit with your kids in the morning? Honor it. The smallest flickering flame of desire in your heart can burst into a wildfire.
Don't push down your longing for God because it doesn't look like something you saw on TV or in church. If you'll give your desire the honor it deserves, if you'll structure your life to make space for seeking, then this could be the year your fire catches light.
I'm not afraid of AI robots. What concerns me is forfeiting all my attention to outside forces, letting the algorithm decide who gets my focus. But the rule of life is our ancient way of holding on to our attention and our desire, focusing it toward what matters most.
I believe this is a year marked by God's invitation: "Church, will you seek my face this year?" I believe this is a year when desire will be set on fire.
So if you're standing here thinking, "Yes, I'm afraid because I don't know what this will look like. This could be disruptive. But I want to do this. I want to be intentional"—will you stand with me?
Lord, we pray that the flickering flame in each heart would catch your spirit this year. Jesus, we pray that we would be a people who consistently beat a path toward you—not just following others' paths, but blazing our own. Father, we pray that the fire in us will grow. Not for the elite few, but for all of us. Let the flames across this room begin to burn. Let your fire fall on each person here. In Jesus' name, Amen.
I want to start with a story that might sound familiar to many of us. A family member was dealing with a small leak in their shower and thought, "I can fix that." But one small repair led to another, and another, until they ended up redoing the entire bathroom. By the end, frustrated and exhausted, they realized something important: DIY simply wasn't for them.
I've been thinking about that story a lot, because it made me wonder—how many of us have written ourselves off in certain areas of our lives? Maybe it's DIY, or cooking, or driving. But what really provoked me was this question: Are there places in your life where you've decided something just isn't for you?
I want to be honest with you this morning. Sometimes I feel like my prayer life just isn't satisfactory. Sometimes I've written myself off in prayer. And I wonder if anyone here feels the same way.
But I want to share something that changed everything for me. In Acts 17, Paul addresses the Athenian council and says:
The God who made the world and everything in it is the Lord of heaven and earth... He himself gives everyone life and breath and everything else... God did this so that they would seek him and perhaps reach out for him and find him, though he is not far from any of us.
Here's what I want you to hear this morning: God has purposefully designed you with a desire for himself. You were crafted with a unique longing for God inside of you.
C.S. Lewis wrote: "If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world." That longing you feel—for something beyond yourself, for something deeper—that's not a mistake. That's by design.
Sometimes we hear messages about hunger and desire for God and think, "That's for someone else. That's for the spiritual giants." But I'm telling you this morning: you don't have to beat yourself up anymore. That desire for God is already in you.
But here's the real question: How do we turn a dormant desire for God into an active seeking of God?
Matthew 7:7 gives us the answer:
Ask and it will be given to you. Seek and you will find. Knock and the door will be opened. For everyone who asks receives. The one who seeks finds and the one who knocks the door will be opened.
Jesus says this with such clarity—six times in two verses he uses the words ask, seek, and knock. This passage is an urgent call to pray with intention. Don't wait for the right moment. Don't assume it will happen on its own.
This promise echoes throughout Scripture. Deuteronomy 4:29 says, "If from there you seek the Lord, you will find him." Jeremiah 29 promises, "If you seek me, you will find me." No matter how far you think you've gone, no matter what you've done—if you seek God, you will find him.
The Hebrew word for "seek" means to beat a path. Think about that image. To seek after God is to make a way where there wasn't one before. It means being intentional, deliberate, and brave enough to forge your own spiritual path.
Why did God choose Abraham? Not because Abraham reached the right point on a mountain, but because he was brave enough to leave his own country and beat a path toward God. He left what he knew and went after God deliberately. And when he arrived at that place, God spoke to him about being the father of nations.
You might be following in someone else's beaten path right now—receiving the spiritual fruit of another person's pursuit. And that's good. But God has also called you to beat your own path. To do your own seeking. To be a follower of Jesus who blazes a trail where there wasn't one.
Here's my promise to you this morning: If you seek God this year, you will find him. Not maybe. Not possibly. You will find him.
But how do we actually live a consistent life of seeking God when our attention is pulled in so many different directions? How do we make sure this message doesn't just settle with us in this room and then fade away when we leave?
There's an ancient practice I want to introduce you to called the rule of life. It's not rules for life—it's a structure, a trellis, that helps your spiritual life grow and blossom.
John Mark Comer describes it beautifully: "A schedule and set of practices and relational rhythms that make space for abiding and living in alignment with our deepest desires."
This practice was developed by the desert fathers and formally structured by St. Benedict in the fifth century. For over 1,500 years, believers have used the rule of life as a framework for spiritual growth.
Think of it like this: In John 15, Jesus says, "Abide in me and you will produce much fruit." But the desert fathers asked, "How do we actually do this?" Their answer was simple: We need a trellis—a structure that helps our spiritual life grow. Your prayer life won't just happen on its own. Your spiritual growth won't bloom without intentional rhythms.
Now, I know some of you might cringe at the word "structure." You might think, "Don't box me in. Don't take away my spontaneity." But consider this: William Faulkner said, "I only write when inspiration strikes. Fortunately, it strikes at 9 in the morning." Writers understand that discipline creates the conditions for inspiration.
If we're going to be intentional, spirit-filled prayer warriors, we have to get smart about how we use our time. Without a rule of life, most of us won't really move forward in our prayer lives.
Let me give you a simple framework. Think about prayer practices across different time scales:
Daily: What can you do every single day? Don't try to copy someone else's rhythm. Look at your actual life. Maybe it's 20 minutes in the morning in a particular chair. Maybe it's listening to worship on your bus commute. Maybe it's a moment in your car before you go into your house. The Jewish people historically prayed three times a day—morning, noon, and night. What could your daily anchor points be?
Weekly: Once a week, what could you do to enjoy God's presence more deeply? If you have a partner, maybe you trade off childcare so each of you gets focused time with God. Maybe it's an hour-long walk. Maybe it's a coffee shop visit. Or if you have the time, could you give a full day each week? John Wesley mandated a two-day fast for every Methodist church. What works for your life?
Monthly: We have Turn the Battle coming up at the end of January—a prayer initiative across the UK. Maybe that's part of your monthly rhythm. Or perhaps you set aside 30 minutes one day each month for intentional fasting and prayer. Maybe once a month you can arrange to take a morning or even a day for a personal retreat—drive somewhere, find a quiet place, and seek God's face deliberately.
Yearly: What pilgrimage or retreat could mark your year? The Jewish people traveled to festivals once a year. Maybe that's David's Tent for you. Maybe it's our church weekend away. Maybe it's a two-day personal retreat where you take your journals and intentionally pursue God's presence.
My challenge to you: Fill this out. Give it real thought. If you're in a life group, bring this conversation there. Share your rule of life with others and ask them to keep you accountable. Say, "This is what I'm committing to. Will you help me stick with it?"
Here's why this matters so much. We live in a time of unprecedented competition for our attention. People are willing to pay billions to capture it. Algorithms are designed to keep us scrolling. But Jesus put a desire in you for himself, and he says, "If you will seek me, you will find me."
Consider this: The average believer spends 12 minutes in the bathroom but only 4 minutes in prayer. We spend almost 4 hours a day on screens—about 52 days a year staring at a screen. Over a year, we might spend 100 hours in church, 75 days at work, 8 days playing sports, but only 7 days in prayer.
My question for you this morning is simple: What are you going to do with your time this year? What will you do with the 365 days ahead?
I want to close with this: You know that little thought about God that crosses your mind as you walk to work? Don't belittle it. That small longing that bubbles up as you sit with your kids in the morning? Honor it. The smallest flickering flame of desire in your heart can burst into a wildfire.
Don't push down your longing for God because it doesn't look like something you saw on TV or in church. If you'll give your desire the honor it deserves, if you'll structure your life to make space for seeking, then this could be the year your fire catches light.
I'm not afraid of AI robots. What concerns me is forfeiting all my attention to outside forces, letting the algorithm decide who gets my focus. But the rule of life is our ancient way of holding on to our attention and our desire, focusing it toward what matters most.
I believe this is a year marked by God's invitation: "Church, will you seek my face this year?" I believe this is a year when desire will be set on fire.
So if you're standing here thinking, "Yes, I'm afraid because I don't know what this will look like. This could be disruptive. But I want to do this. I want to be intentional"—will you stand with me?
Lord, we pray that the flickering flame in each heart would catch your spirit this year. Jesus, we pray that we would be a people who consistently beat a path toward you—not just following others' paths, but blazing our own. Father, we pray that the fire in us will grow. Not for the elite few, but for all of us. Let the flames across this room begin to burn. Let your fire fall on each person here. In Jesus' name, Amen.
