Since my initial meeting with Patricia the other day (refer to the previous post dated November 15, 2025), she has enquired, with noticeable emotion, whether I believe that we are now in the "little season."

I needed considerable time to contemplate before responding, resulting in an extended period of silence prior to answering Patricia’s query.

Honestly, I was unable to provide a definitive answer and informed Patricia that it is possible, particularly when observing the world around us.

Examining Revelation 20:3 and Revelation 20:7, I comprehend how Patricia might have felt that we were possibly in the 'little season'. However, after a day of reflection, I do not believe we are currently in or even approaching the 'little season' or, more accurately, anything like it.

For those requiring a reminder, the term "little season" in the Bible most frequently denotes Satan's brief period, following the Millennium, during which Satan is released to deceive the nations once more prior to his final judgement. This period is detailed in Revelation 20:3 and Revelation 20:7 and is characterised by a final, fleeting, yet intense insurrection against God's people, culminating in Satan's casting into the lake of fire.

Due to the turbulence in the world and the presence of malevolence, I comprehend why individuals are eager to grasp the reasons behind the world's unrest. Homicides, conflicts, and the list of losses are interminable.

Today, I encountered Patricia, in a non religious environment, unknown to me, who unexpectedly sought me out in an emotionally vulnerable state.

As someone committed to providing pastoral care, I recognised the importance of offering immediate support and creating a safe space for her to express her feelings openly.

My approach was to listen actively and empathetically, ensuring that she felt heard and validated without judgment.

Drawing upon my experience in pastoral care, I provided gentle guidance and resources that could facilitate her emotional well-being, recognising the significance of addressing such concerns promptly.

While navigating this delicate interaction, it was crucial to maintain professionalism by respecting confidentiality and applying insights from previous situations where emotional support proved effective. This encounter reaffirmed my commitment to fostering an environment where people who are not known to me feel valued and supported during challenging times, enhancing both personal welfare and harmony.

People judge me as a priest. Their viewpoints are unimportant to me. What matters most is that I am able to assist anyone who desires assistance in whatever capacity.

It was an emotional experience for Patricia and me. We share similar experiences in our lives.
I handed Patricia my church business card and asked her to call me at any moment.

If you are reading this, Patricia, I can help. You know I can help. God knows I can help.

"Lest We Forget" serves as a solemn reminder of the sacrifices made in times of conflict, urging both clergy and laypeople to preserve the collective memory of those who have given their lives for peace and freedom.

As a priest, the imperative to remember is deeply ingrained, as it aligns with religious teachings on the sanctity of life and the moral duty to honour those who have suffered for others’ salvation. However, this call extends beyond ecclesiastical duties; every individual bears responsibility in maintaining these memories within the collective consciousness.

The historical significance transcends spiritual boundaries, urging society to safeguard these lessons amidst evolving cultural narratives. By embedding such reflections into our shared history, we foster resilience against repeating past atrocities and promote unity through a reverence for our forebears' bravery—their sacrifices must never fade from memory but persist as foundational elements of our communal identity.

Priests often stand at the intersection of spiritual leadership and community involvement, which inherently requires them to engage with issues beyond purely religious topics.

Criticising priests for having opinions on subjects outside religion overlooks their dual roles as both spiritual guides and civic participants.

Like any citizen, they possess a moral obligation to address societal challenges such as poverty, inequality, education, and ethical governance—areas that significantly impact their congregations' lives. These issues demand nuanced perspectives that transcend religious doctrines while remaining informed by ethical principles rooted in faith traditions. Moreover, dismissing the voices of priests as irrelevant or intrusive diminishes the rich historical contributions of religious leaders who have often championed social justice and human rights causes.

Respecting priests' roles as thoughtful contributors to public discourse enriches societal dialogue by acknowledging diverse moral frameworks and fostering a more comprehensive understanding of complex issues.

When the call for expression arises, I shall not falter; I will engage in dialogue across all subjects that beckon my insight.

As soon as I arrived at Charing Cross in London by train today, I encountered a variety of homeless individuals on my route.

In today's society, there is no reason to be homeless, as I consistently inform them. I can promptly secure you a place to stay that includes food, a bed, and a shower. I have tried to reach them this way for years, but only Noddy, who was from Ashford, Kent, England, and has since died, accepted.

Observing individuals of all genders, especially those with children, brings tears to my eyes. I am eager to provide assistance. I am confident that I can be of assistance. I am prohibited from bringing anything other than hot food and hot beverages, which I will provide with treats.

Indeed, I comprehend the feelings of certain individuals when they inform me that they have been feigning homelessness. I will refrain from evaluating them. I will only provide compassion and assistance if they permit me to do so.

Today, I offer my prayers for the destitute individuals whom I have encountered. I have made a modest contribution; however, I have observed that others have resorted to shouting at them instead of demonstrating compassion, as I have personally experienced today. 

The dual role of a senior karate instructor within the National Association of Karate and Martial Art Schools (NAKMAS) and that of a priest embodies a unique confluence of physical discipline and spiritual guidance. 

Both professions demand a profound commitment to personal development, where the senior karate instructor emphasises the principles of respect, perseverance, and self-discipline through rigorous training regimens, fostering not only physical prowess but also mental fortitude in students. Similarly, a priest undertakes the responsibility of nurturing spiritual growth within their community, offering teachings that cultivate moral integrity and resilience in facing life's challenges. 

While the dojo focuses on bodily mastery, emphasising traditional training which includes kata and sparring as pathways to enlightenment, the ecclesiastical realm offers sacraments and sermons as mechanisms for understanding oneself in relation to divinity. Ultimately, both roles strive for holistic improvement—one through martial arts' code of conduct and the other through faith's ethical framework—demonstrating how discipline in practice can parallel devotion in belief.

Just as the dojo sharpens the warrior, so does the church refine the spirit; together, they forge a path toward enlightenment and grace.

Pastoral care stands as a cornerstone of my ministry, embodying not only the essence of spiritual leadership but also the commitment to fostering holistic well-being within my community. While this facet of my vocation demands substantial time and emotional investment, it is profoundly rewarding and aligns with my calling to serve.

Engaging in pastoral care involves being present during pivotal life moments—joyful celebrations, moments of grief, and personal crises—whereby I offer support, guidance, and compassion. This relational aspect nurtures trust and deepens connections among congregants and the wider community, transforming our communal bonds into a network of resilience and hope.

Although the demands can be significant and at times overwhelming, especially as someone who is autistic, I regard this work as an essential expression of faith that enables me to live out my mission while responding dutifully to the spiritual needs that arise within our diverse community.

The idea of not judging others while experiencing the reciprocal action is a deep reflection on how people connect with each other and how society sets rules.

In many cultures, judging others comes from wanting to show that you are better than them or to keep social hierarchies in place. This makes people force their values on others without knowing their situations. This situation makes me think about empathy, compassion, and the basic idea that everyone should be treated with care.

Asserting that only God can judge shows a moral stance that supports humility and acceptance, recognising that everyone's journey is unique and should be taken into account rather than being analysed. Beliefs like these push us to create spaces where personal experiences are valued instead of being judged, which will lead to more unity in communities that focus on helping each other instead of dividing.

So, changing how we interact with others might help us stop making snap judgements and encourage an attitude based on understanding.

As a priest, I often encounter this profound inquiry: "Where is God during war and evil?"

This question touches on the complex intersection of divine providence and human free will.

In the midst of suffering, it can seem as if God is distant or silent in the face of horrific atrocities. Yet, theological perspectives remind us that God's omnipresence does not negate human agency; rather, we live in a world marked by moral choices and consequences. Moreover, many faith traditions emphasise that God weeps with those who suffer and stands in solidarity with victims of violence.

Through communal acts of compassion and justice-seeking initiatives, believers are called to manifest God's love amidst chaos. Ultimately, this theological tension invites us to confront not only our understanding of divinity but also our own responsibilities to foster peace and healing in a fractured world.

The loss of a beloved pet can profoundly impact an individual, evoking deep feelings of grief and sorrow that are often underestimated by those who have not experienced it.

For my special friend, the recent passing of another dog adds to his heartache, reflecting the profound bond shared between humans and their canine companions.

Having endured the loss of two dogs myself, I understand that this pain can be particularly acute; each pet occupies a unique space in our hearts and lives.

In moments like these, it becomes essential to honour their memory by cherishing the joyful experiences we shared, celebrating their individuality, and acknowledging the unconditional love they offered.

Although sorrow may feel overwhelming now, it is through remembrance and shared stories that we find solace and healing as we navigate this difficult journey ahead.

To my friend: Even in the depths of hardship, remember that friendship is our guiding light; next week, we will gather in our day out to both mourn and celebrate our journey through life.

Today, someone informed me that I have a severe temper if it erupts. Jesus lost his composure; this is no excuse, of course.

Jesus is depicted as losing his temper in the New Testament, particularly in the incident of the temple's purification.

Jesus enters the temple in Jerusalem and drives out the merchants and money-changers, overturning tables and condemning their practices, as recorded in all four Gospels (Matthew 21:12-13, Mark 11:15-17, Luke 19:45-46, John 2:13-16).

In John's narrative, he even constructs a whip of cords to expel them, stating, "Remove these things; do not convert my Father's house into a house of trade" (John 2:16). This outburst of fury is frequently perceived as a form of righteous indignation directed at the commercialisation of sacred spaces.

Just saying..!

As a priest, I find myself walking alongside some incredible people battling cancer, including my own wife, and it's one of the most humbling experiences of my life.

Every day, I offer prayers that they not only find strength but also moments of joy amidst the struggle. I often have tears as well.

It’s heartwarming to sit with them, to listen without judgment, and just be present; it reminds me how important community is during tough times.

We share laughs when we can—laughter truly is the best medicine—and I make sure they know they’re not alone in this fight and I am with them fully on their journey no matter what.

Whether it's holding hands during treatment or simply checking in with text, a telephone call, or pop around to their home, these small acts can mean the world.

Watching their resilience inspires me every day, affirming that faith isn’t just about rituals; it’s deeply intertwined with compassion and support for others navigating their own challenges.

When it comes to materialistic versus non-materialistic people, the difference can significantly impact how individuals engage with their faith and community.

Materialistic people often measure success by their possessions or status, frequently chasing after money and things, which can lead to a shallow understanding of deeper spiritual values. On the other hand, non-materialistic individuals tend to prioritise experiences, relationships, and inner peace over material wealth, aligning more closely with many religious teachings that emphasise humility and generosity.

In a religious setting, this contrast matters because communities thrive when members genuinely support each other without being bogged down by envy or competition over material goods.

Ultimately, fostering an environment where spirituality transcends stuff encourages richer connections among believers and allows them to focus on shared values like compassion and service rather than getting caught up in the rat race of living for 'things.'

Confessions within the church context often present several inherent problems that can compromise both individual well-being and communal trust, despite serving as a pivotal ritual for personal accountability and spiritual healing.

One significant issue is the potential for coercion; individuals may feel pressured to confess out of fear of judgement or social repercussions, which undermines the authenticity of their admissions. Additionally, varying interpretations of sin and penance across different denominations can lead to confusion regarding what constitutes genuine repentance.

The confidentiality against breaches of trust—either through inadvertent disclosure by clergy or insufficient safeguards in handling sensitive information. Moreover, the psychological impact on penitents may be profound; guilt or shame surrounding unconfessed sins can exacerbate mental health issues rather than promote healing. Thus, while confession aims for spiritual renewal, these problems necessitate rigorous ethical considerations and pastoral sensitivity.

The assertion that "it doesn’t matter if you believe, because I know one day you will" embodies a complex interplay between faith, conviction, and existential contemplation.

From a theological perspective, this statement suggests an understanding of belief as a journey rather than a fixed destination; it posits that spiritual awakening can occur at various stages in life and is not limited to immediate acceptance of religious tenets.

This perspective acknowledges the diversity of human experience and the myriad factors—cultural, emotional, existential—that influence individual beliefs. Moreover, it reflects a form of hopeful universalism which implies that exposure to the teachings and transformative power of Jesus might ultimately resonate with all souls. While rooted in faith, such assertions challenge individuals to reflect on their spiritual paths while maintaining respect for differing viewpoints within an increasingly pluralistic society.

I absolutely love reading the Gospel of John because it really speaks to me on a deep spiritual level.

The way John portrays Jesus as the Word made flesh and emphasises his divine nature through powerful miracles and teachings just resonates with me in a way that other Gospels don't.

This Gospel just fills my heart with compassion and understanding for others, which is so important in my role as a priest. It reminds me of Jesus' unconditional love for all people, regardless of their background or sins, and inspires me to approach my ministry with the same level of compassion and empathy.

It helps me remember to always strive to see the good in everyone, just like Jesus did, and to treat others with kindness and respect.

Being able to draw strength from the Gospel of John is such a gift in my journey as a priest, constantly pushing me towards being a more loving and compassionate servant of God.

Whether or not to read the Bible as a book is contingent upon your objective. While it is possible to read it from beginning to end to obtain a narrative experience, it is not organised in the manner of a novel. The Bible is a collection of texts composed over centuries, encompassing stories, laws, poetry, correspondence, and prophecies. The authors, contexts, and purposes of these texts vary. It may appear disjointed when read in a linear fashion due to the transitions between genres and timelines.

Begin by reading narrative-heavy books such as Genesis, Exodus, or the Gospels (Matthew, Mark, Luke, John) if you are interested in their stories. To gain a more comprehensive understanding, it is recommended that you read in conjunction with a study guide or commentary to clarify the context and significance. Many recommend beginning with John or Psalms for the sake of accessibility, if it is for faith.