Night spills across the earth like oil, thick with the hush of waiting. I slip between waking and the deep unseen, where time is...

I’m sat here in a doorway on one of Leeds’ busy streets. People rush past, their hands full of shopping bags, their faces lit by the glow...

The forecast said -3°C. Cold enough to kill someone who isn’t prepared. For anyone who knows the homeless—especially those who count...

When I visited Peter—though that’s not his real name—I found him lying on the floor, paralysed from the neck down, waiting for an...

Let me tell you a story, a true story, though the name has been changed. Bev was trapped in a cycle of isolation, her life marked by...

Jesus is often depicted as a sanitized, safe figure—his radical message diluted by centuries of tradition. This version of Jesus seems to...

Let me share with you a story—a real story, though the name has been changed. Tori came to Lighthouse one Sunday—tough, loud, and...

Let me tell you a story—a true one, though I’ve changed the name. Peter was a regular at Lighthouse. Raised in care, he was a bright guy,...

Let me tell you a story. A real story, one that echoes countless tales etched into the memories of the pastors at Lighthouse—a fresh...

When Liberator looked at the crowd he went up a mountain and sat down to encourage his people. He opened his mouth and spoke to his crew...