Day 1 in full: In the Beginning Was the Word (John 1)
This is the complete first session, exactly as it's read in the app. Every day of the plan follows this shape.
Arrive
Welcome.
Before anything else this morning — before the messages, before the list, before the day has had a chance to make any claims on you — this.
Breathe in, slowly. And out.
We're beginning a gospel today. Twenty-one chapters, one each morning, for three weeks.
You don't need to remember any of it, and there will be no test at the end. You only need to let it in.
Set out
Three of the four gospels begin with a birth, or a baptism, or a family tree.
John doesn't. John begins before Christmas. Before Bethlehem. Before the world.
He takes the first three words of the entire Bible — in the beginning — and puts them at the top of his account of Jesus, which is not a subtle move. He is telling you where he thinks this story starts.
One thing about the chapter itself. It is fifty-one verses long, and we'll read the opening section this morning, the part people call the prologue.
If you have time later, read the rest in the app’s Bible, under You. The second half is people meeting Jesus for the first time, and it ends with two of the best words He ever said.
And listen for a phrase in verse fourteen about where He decided to live. It's four words in English and it is the hinge of the whole book.
Hear: John 1:1–14
John, chapter one, from verse one.
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning.
Through Him all things were made, and without Him nothing was made that has been made.
In Him was life, and that life was the light of men. The Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.
The true Light who gives light to every man was coming into the world.
He was in the world, and though the world was made through Him, the world did not recognise Him. He came to His own, and His own did not receive Him.
But to all who did receive Him, to those who believed in His name, He gave the right to become children of God —
children born not of blood, nor of the desire or will of man, but born of God.
The Word became flesh and made His dwelling among us. We have seen His glory, the glory of the one and only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth.
Hear again
The Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.
Shines. Present tense. Not shone once, a long way off. Still shining, this morning, while you listen.
The Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.
A question, and it doesn't need solving this morning. You aren't being asked to do anything about it.
It might be in the news. It might be in a room in your house. It might be in you, and you'd rather not look at it directly.
Where is the darkness, for you, this morning? You don't have to fix it or explain it. Just let the line stand next to it for a moment.
Consider
The Word. It's a strange name for a person, and we've heard it so often that the strangeness has worn off.
So think about what a word actually does. A word is how what is inside somebody gets outside. It's how a thought stops being private and becomes something you can hear.
John is saying: Jesus is what God has to say. Not a message from God, carried by a courier. God's own speech, walking about.
Which means that whatever you have privately concluded God is like, this is the correction. Not a theory about Him — a face, and hands, and a voice people could hear across a room.
And then verse fourteen, which is where the whole thing lands. The Word became flesh and made His dwelling among us.
The phrase John uses there means pitched His tent. Camped. Moved into the neighbourhood.
And it is a deliberate echo. For forty years in the desert, God's presence had lived among a travelling people in a tent — not a temple, not a building, a structure that came down and moved on whenever they moved. That was where the glory was.
So John says: it happened again. The One through whom everything was made pitched a tent in a body, and got tired, and got hungry, and got dust on His feet.
That's the entire gospel in one verse. The other twenty chapters are just watching it happen.
One more thing to notice, because it will run through the next three weeks. John loves the words light and darkness, and he never once pretends the darkness isn't real. Look at what he says in the same breath — the world did not recognise Him. His own did not receive Him.
He is honest about it. But he insists on one thing: the darkness has not overcome it. And the word he uses can also mean grasped, or understood. The darkness cannot get its hands round the light. Cannot comprehend it. Cannot put it out.
And notice how John writes about it. He doesn't argue. He doesn't build a case that the light will win. He simply reports that it is on, and lets the fact do the work.
There will be mornings in the next three weeks when it looks as though the darkness is winning. John's answer is not that it isn't there. His answer is: look — it is still shining.
Pray
Word of God, You were there before the beginning, and You are here now, in an ordinary room.
Here is my darkness. Show Him whatever came to mind earlier. You don't have to make it sound reasonable.
Shine there. Not somewhere else. There.
And You pitched Your tent among us. You did not visit from a distance.
So ask Him to camp here — in the ordinary hours of today, in the parts of your life that are not remotely spiritual.
Be near enough to get dust on Your feet.
And thank Him for one very ordinary thing about today — something with no spiritual content at all.
That is exactly the sort of thing He came and lived among.
Amen.
Carry
The line to carry today.
The Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.
Say it once, out loud if you can.
And at some point today — on a walk, or while the kettle boils — open the Bible (under You) and read the rest of chapter one. Watch for the moment Jesus turns round to two men following Him and asks the first question He asks in this gospel.
It isn't what you'd expect a religious teacher to open with, and it's worth finding for yourself.
Tomorrow: a wedding, six stone jars, and a great deal of wine.
For now — the light is shining. Go and see.