Don't Bury Your Freedom: 7 Remembrance Devotions on Faith in Action

Here are the Battle Drill Daily Devotionals for the coming week. The accompanying video and audio podcast episodes will be published each day.

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Seven powerful Remembrance devotionals exploring the Parable of the Talents. Discover how to honour sacrifice by investing your freedom, faith, and time in serving others. Daily challenges transform memory into mercy through practical Christian living.

What Will You Do with What Was Won?

Remembrance Sunday 9 November 2025

The town falls silent.

A chill November breeze lifts the poppies on the cenotaph. A cornet cries the Last Post on the high street. Two minutes. No traffic, no chatter - only breath. I look out from my place in the Band and notice an elderly woman gripping a photograph. Her knuckles are white. Her freedom cost someone everything.

Moments like that make the air heavy. They remind us that freedom was bought with blood, that peace was planted in grief. Yet Jesus once told another story about entrusted treasure - and what we do with it.

“Well done, my good and faithful servant”. (Matthew 25:21).

That praise was given only to those who did something with what they were given - not to those who buried it.

Two servants invested and grew their master’s gift. One buried his. When the master returned, he celebrated faithfulness, not safety. That’s confronting on Remembrance Sunday, isn’t it? What have we done with what was won - with our time, with our freedom, and with our faith?

Do we do more than remember? Or do we keep a tidy silence, then bury our compassion in the ground?

Paul wrote to the Galatians, “Use your freedom to serve one another in love”. (Galatians 5:13). Freedom is a trust. So is faith. So is time. If we use them well, God multiplies them. If we hoard them, they decay. Kingdom life grows where it’s planted, not where it’s hidden.

You might think, “I’m only one person - what difference can I make?” Listen. The servants didn’t change the whole economy. They simply worked with what was in their hands. That’s you. That’s me. Small. Faithful. And brave.

In 2014, the Tower of London filled its moat with 888,246 ceramic poppies - each one a British life lost in the Great War. Beauty with weight. A river of red that flowed into the nation’s conscience.

We honour them best when we turn memory into mercy, remembrance into responsibility.

Freedom is like a seed. It’s meant to be sown, not stored. Leave it in the packet and it stays pretty but pointless. Plant it - risk it even - and it multiplies into life for others. Faith works the same way. So does time.

Picture the high street this past week. A poppy seller packs away the tin. A teenager in uniform helps an older neighbour cross the road. A shopkeeper notices the rough sleeper outside and brings a hot pasty. None of it trends. But all of it counts.

“Let your good deeds shine out for all to see, so that everyone will praise your heavenly Father”. (Matthew 5:16).

So, here’s your step for today: choose one person to serve - practically, quietly, and promptly. Write their name down now. Before you sleep, do the thing - a call or text, a meal, a lift, a prayer at the door. Use your freedom to love.

Because if you’re too busy for God and neighbour, you’re too busy. Full stop. Don’t bury what God gave. Invest it in people Jesus loves.

The truth is that remembrance is hollow without response. The silence after the Last Post must echo in our actions - in every meal shared, every mercy given, and every act of grace freely offered.

Prayer: Lord Jesus, thank you for those who gave their lives so we could live in freedom. Thank you for your cross and resurrection - our deeper freedom. Today, give me courage to invest what you’ve entrusted: time, freedom, and faith. Show me who to serve and help me do it with joy. Amen.

Don’t Bury Your Freedom

Monday 10 November 2025

A supermarket shouts, “Buy one, get one free!” We wheel home a mountain of clementines - bright, fragrant, and full of promise. A week later, half of them are moulding in the fruit bowl. Saved … only to waste.

Have you ever done that with time? With opportunity? With freedom?

Jesus told a story like that. In Matthew 25, a master entrusts his servants with treasure before a long journey. Two invest. One digs a hole. When the master returns, he praises the risk-takers and rebukes the one who buried his chance. “To those who use well what they are given, even more will be given”. (v. 29)

Freedom works like that. Use it to love, and it multiplies. Bury it in comfort, and it withers.

Let me take you to an ordinary scene. It’s lunchtime in an open-plan office. Screens hum, microwaves beep, and the smell of coffee fills the air. A colleague – one who is quiet and often overlooked - packs her bag in silence. You notice her swollen eyes. You could scroll the headlines. You could check your emails. Or - you could take your freedom and cross the room. Two small words: “You OK?” Kingdom seed.

She hesitates, then whispers about a parent’s diagnosis. You listen. You pray - yes, right there by the kettle. Nothing dramatic. Just faithful.

That’s how the Kingdom grows: through ordinary courage.

Paul puts it plainly: “Use your freedom to serve one another in love”. (Galatians 5:13). The world says freedom means doing whatever you want. Jesus reframes it as power to do what’s needed.

Real freedom bends outward. It feeds. It visits. It notices. It gives. It risks reputation to protect the vulnerable.

It says, “My time is God’s. My gifts are God’s. My freedom is God’s”.

But let’s be honest - are you ever tempted to bury that freedom because you’re afraid to get it wrong? The third servant wasn’t punished for losing money. He was condemned for refusing to try. Fear froze him.

Faith grows by use. Courage grows by small risks. Mercy grows every time you step toward pain instead of away from it.

Freedom decays in storage. It thrives in service. Like muscles, it strengthens only through resistance.

During the Second World War, Sir Winston Churchill called Nazism a “monstrous tyranny”. Our grandparents faced it with, as he said, “all the strength that God can give us”. Many never came home. Their courage bought us space to choose - space to live, space to speak, space to worship, and space to serve.

So - what will you choose today? Consumption or compassion? Distraction or devotion? Safety or service?

Every choice either invests or buries what others died to give us.

Your challenge today: take twenty minutes of undistracted freedom. Ask, “Lord, who needs me right now?” Then act. Send the message. Sign up for the community-meal rota. Deliver a bag to the food bank. Pray with intention. Use your lunchtime liberty to love.

Because when you invest freedom, God entrusts more – more capacity, more joy, and more opportunity. Not for ego. For others. For Jesus.

That’s the kind of return heaven celebrates.

Prayer: Father, thank you for the freedom I enjoy. Rescue me from selfish use. Teach my heart to serve. Lead me to one person, one need, one act that honours those who sacrificed - and honours you. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Who Will You Serve Today?

Armistice Day - Tuesday 11 November 2025

The Hub Community Café smells of fresh coffee. It’s time for another warm welcome at The Salvation Army. Steam clouds the windows. Soon the tables and chairs hum with conversation. Someone operates the coffee machine. Another is in the kitchen putting mugs and plates through the dishwasher.

The doors open. In comes Tricia, her dog Bailey padding beside her. In comes a resident of the care home across the road, looking for a quiet corner to read. In comes a homeless man who hasn’t slept indoors for three nights.

Mugs and plates clatter. Laughter rises. No one is a project. Everyone is a person. That’s the gospel, lived in real time.

Jesus once said, “The Son of Man came not to be served but to serve others and to give his life as a ransom for many”.(Mark 10:45). In Matthew 25, he tells of a master who entrusts wealth to his servants. Two invest. One buries. When the master returns, he praises those who used what they were given. Service, Jesus says, isn’t an optional extra. It’s the shape of Christian life.

But let’s be honest - it’s not glamorous. There are no cameras, no applause, no hashtags. Service often happens in the quiet corners: cutting vegetables, listening to stories, washing dishes when everyone’s gone home.

Peter stays behind after the café has closed, cleaning out the coffee machine in silence. The Hub echoes. He looks tired but peaceful. That’s worship, too.

Maybe you’ve thought, “I don’t have much to give”. Neither did the servants in Jesus’ story - just a bag of silver each. The point wasn’t the size of their gift. It was the posture of their hearts. God multiplies what love surrenders.

Service is stewardship in action. It’s taking the time, the freedom, and the faith we’ve been given and putting them to work for the sake of others. When we use our freedom to love, it multiplies. When we bury it in comfort, it withers.

Tomorrow morning on the high street, a boy in a school blazer steps aside to let an older neighbour through the chemist door. A cashier notices a shaking hand and packs the bag. A bus driver waits an extra beat for a runner. Tiny liturgies of love. Jesus said, “Let your good deeds shine out for all to see, so that everyone will praise your heavenly Father”.(Matthew 5:16).

That’s the Kingdom breaking through - in gestures so small they almost go unnoticed.

But here’s the danger. You can be busy serving and still drift far from God. You can become what one writer called a “practical atheist” - serving on a rota but never seeking Jesus himself. If you’re too busy for prayer and Scripture, you’re too busy. Full stop.

So, serve from Jesus, not just for him. Sit at his feet before you get to your feet. Let service flow from presence, not performance. That’s how joy stays alive.

Let me offer a step for today. Write down three ordinary ways you can serve where you actually live – in your home, on your street, or in your workplace. Then pick one and do it within twenty-four hours. Offer to carry a neighbour’s shopping. Text your corps or church leader and ask, “Where can I help this month?” Slip a tenner into the community fund. Pray by name for the person you’ll meet next.

Each small act is a seed. And every seed matters.

“God is not unjust. He will not forget how hard you have worked for him and how you have shown your love to him by caring for other believers”. (Hebrews 6:10).

So - who will you serve today?

Prayer: Jesus, you served me first and best. Give me your heart and your hands. Save me from serving to be seen. Help me serve to love. Multiply what I offer for your Kingdom and for the good of others. Amen.

Will You Risk Your Faith?

Wednesday 12 November 2025

A number of our youths have recently started at new educational centres. They’ve been making new friends. And I have no doubt that God is using them. It doesn’t sound dramatic. But opening up a new friendship might just help their new friend find their way into faith one day.

Faith always begins with a risk.

Jesus told a story about three servants in Matthew 25:14–30. Two risked investment. One buried his coin in fear. The master praised the ones who stepped out, not the one who played safe. And Hebrews 11:6 says it plainly: “It is impossible to please God without faith”. Not bravado. Not recklessness. But trust in motion - belief that moves the feet, not just fills the head.

The fearful servant misread his master. He thought him harsh, so he hid. That’s what fear does. It paints God as critical, not generous. When you believe God is for you, you take holy risks. You speak when silence feels safer. You pray when the room is awkward. You give when your budget squeaks. You invite when rejection seems certain. You act because Jesus is worth it.

At school, in the office, or on the high street - faith always meets fear. Picture the classroom. A student sits alone. You risk the social cost and pull up a chair. Or the workplace meeting where someone is blamed unfairly. You risk the awkwardness to say, “That’s not accurate”. These are not headlines. They are holy moments.

C.S. Lewis once wrote, “Courage is not simply one of the virtues, but the form of every virtue at the testing point”. That’s faith in practice. Every act of obedience requires courage to cross the invisible line between safety and surrender.

Think of faith like stepping onto water. Peter didn’t test the waves first. He trusted the word of Jesus. The step came before the proof. That’s risk. It’s not blind - it’s believing that the One who calls you won’t let you sink.

But let’s be honest, we all have a tendency to bury our faith. The fear of looking foolish. The fear of loss. The fear of failure. Yet James 2:17 reminds us, “Faith by itself isn’t enough. Unless it produces good deeds, it is dead and useless”.Faith that never risks anything soon withers into comfort.

Courage grows by use. Every yes to God stretches trust a little further until obedience starts to feel natural. Each risk becomes a rehearsal for the next one.

So, what could your step look like today? Maybe it’s offering prayer in a public place. Maybe it’s speaking hope into an online argument instead of adding heat. Maybe it’s sharing your testimony over coffee with a friend who’s searching. Or simply asking, “Can I tell you why my faith matters to me?”

Don’t measure success by the response. Measure it by obedience. The results belong to God.

And remember how the parable ends: the master says, “Let’s celebrate together!” (Matthew 25:21). That’s what awaits those who dare to act in faith. Heaven’s applause for everyday courage.

Thought Starter: What’s one Spirit-prompted risk you’ve been avoiding - and what might happen if you said yes today?

Prayer: Lord, you’ve never failed me. Forgive my caution. When you whisper “Go”, help me move. When fear rises, remind me you’re near. Make my faith bold, humble, and alive. Amen.

Invest What You’ve Been Given

Thursday 13 November 2025

I remember a bandsman who once had to give up playing his instrument because of arthritis in the fingers. But he could still drive. So, instead he began picking up people to take them to worship on a Sunday morning.

He thought he’d lost his gift. But he just found another. That’s stewardship. Not clinging to what we can’t do anymore but asking what we can still give.

Jesus told a story about this very thing. In Matthew 25, a master entrusts silver to three servants before leaving on a journey. Two invest it and double the amount. One buries it in the ground. When the master returns, he praises the investors - “Well done, my good and faithful servant”. (v.21). But the fearful servant? He gets no praise. Only regret.

Faithful stewardship isn’t about quantity - it’s about trust. The first two servants believed their master wanted growth, not caution. The third believed his master was harsh. Fear kept his shovel busy and his potential buried.

So, what about you? When God entrusts something - time, energy, creativity - do you invest it, or do you protect it?

Psalm 24:1 says, “The earth is the Lord’s, and everything in it”. Everything. Your salary, your stories, your sense of humour, your home, even your health. They’re not really yours - they’re God’s investments in you.

And he loves to see them multiplied.

At our Hub Community Café, an older volunteer I’ll call Mary attacks the dishwasher like a mission. Steam rises, plates clatter, mugs rattle. She pauses before closing the machine door and whispers a prayer: “Someone will hold this tomorrow. May they feel peace”.

That’s stewardship. Seeing sacred value in ordinary things.

It’s the same heartbeat you hear in a parent teaching a child to pray, or a teen saving pocket money to sponsor a child overseas. Faithful, unseen, and often small - but heaven notices.

Maybe your “bags of silver” are creative gifts. Maybe it’s leadership, or the ability to listen. Maybe it’s the knack for numbers, or a heart that notices who’s missing. God expects investment, not comparison.

The fearful servant buried his talent because he looked sideways - comparing, doubting, assuming he’d never measure up. Don’t fall for that lie. God measures faithfulness, not fame.

Sometimes stewardship means pruning - saying no to good things so you can say yes to the right ones. It means budgeting to give. Scheduling to rest. Serving even when no one claps. It’s a daily alignment: “Lord, everything’s yours. Show me how to use it”.

That’s the rhythm of a faithful life. Not grand gestures, but steady investment.

And remember: small seeds make big harvests.

John Wesley once said, “Do all the good you can, by all the means you can, in all the ways you can”. That’s the call of stewardship - multiplying mercy until heaven rejoices.

So, what has God placed in your hands today?

Maybe it’s an empty seat in your car. A spare room. A listening ear. Maybe it’s a song you haven’t sung in years, or a story that could encourage someone else to trust again. Whatever it is, it’s not meant to be buried.

Take ten minutes today. List three things God has entrusted to you – your time, a resource, a relationship. Next to each, write one way to invest it this week. Call someone lonely. Donate a skill. Offer mentoring. Plant generosity where it can grow.

Because when the master returns, he won’t ask, “How much did you make?” He’ll ask, “Were you faithful with what I gave?”

And that’s the moment every servant longs for - to hear, “Well done”.

Prayer: Father, all I have is yours. Forgive what I’ve wasted. Teach me wise and joyful stewardship. May everything I hold become seed in your hands for Kingdom harvest. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

Hope That Doesn’t Hide

Friday 14 November 2025

The food cupboard shelves looked thin one Friday afternoon. Donations had slowed but demand hadn’t. I was feeling quietly anxious as I stacked the tins with more prayer than produce. Then, just as I was about to leave the hall, a man appeared at the door with a trolley full of groceries. “My wife said it’s time we gave something back”, he smiled. He’d been helped years ago. Hope, recycled.

That moment has stayed with me over the years. It reminds me that hope isn’t supposed to sit on a shelf. It’s meant to circulate. To be passed on, not preserved.

Jesus tells a story in Matthew 25:14–30 about servants entrusted with silver. Two invest and double it. One buries his share in fear. The master praises the ones who risked their trust, not the one who hid it. Hope works the same way. It isn’t a feeling to store. It’s a gift to grow.

Paul puts it like this: “I pray that God, the source of hope, will fill you completely with joy and peace because you trust in him”. (Romans 15:13). Notice the flow - hope begins with God, fills us with peace, and overflows to others. Hope received must become hope released.

But how easy it is to bury hope when life feels uncertain. The third servant buried his gift because he feared loss. Fear whispers, “Play it safe”. “Keep it quiet”. “Protect yourself”. Yet when fear rules, hope dies. When faith acts, hope multiplies.

I know of a couple who quietly give gifts from their salaries without any kind of fanfare. Flowers for someone who’s grieving. A food parcel for a student at university.

That’s hope with hands.

Hope isn’t sentimental. It’s stubborn. It looks despair in the eye and keeps giving anyway. It keeps turning up, even when the cupboards are bare, even when the prayer feels unanswered.

Maybe you’ve felt yours slipping lately. The headlines wear you down. The bills keep coming. The silence after prayer feels longer each week. You’re not alone.

But remember: Jesus commends servants who invest small things. He doesn’t ask for grandeur, just faithfulness.

A smile when others frown. A meal when cupboards feel light. A text when someone disappears. A prayer when you’d rather scroll.

Each is a deposit in God’s economy. None of it’s wasted.

So, what about you? What could you do today to keep hope in circulation?

Here’s your step for today: act out hope. Write a note of encouragement. Post a verse online. Volunteer for one hour where despair often walks in - your corps or church food bank, the school gate, or a neighbour’s doorstep. Don’t wait to feel hopeful. Hope grows through movement.

Theologian N.T. Wright wrote that Christian hope is the message that “God’s new world has been unveiled in Jesus Christ and that you’re now invited to belong to it”. That’s the heartbeat of the gospel.

The master’s words still ring: “Let’s celebrate together!” (Matthew 25:21). That’s heaven’s response when hope refuses to hide - when fear is met with faith, and small acts light great darkness.

So, keep it moving. Keep it visible. And keep it alive.

Prayer: God of hope, breathe again in me. When fear whispers, “Bury it”, teach me to sow instead. Use small acts of courage to light corners of darkness. Until Christ returns, keep me faithful and bright with hope. Amen.

Live Worthy of Their Sacrifice

Saturday 15 November 2025

I once visited the Normandy War Cemeteries. Rows upon rows of white stones stretched across the grass, each one perfectly aligned, each one marking a life cut short. The silence was heavy, broken only by the gulls and the sound of shoes on the gravel. Every headstone bore a name, a number, and an age - twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two. Sons. Fathers. Friends.

I stood there in silence and thought that behind each name was someone’s everything - a mother’s pride, a sweetheart’s promise, a child’s laughter. I remembered a verse from John 15:13: “There is no greater love than to lay down one’s life for one’s friends”. Then quietly, I prayed, “Lord, help me live a life worth what they gave”.

I still make that prayer when Remembrance Sunday comes round. Because remembrance isn’t passive. It demands something of us.

Jesus told a story about investment - a master entrusting treasure to his servants before a long journey (Matthew 25:14–30). Two took what they were given and grew it. One buried it, afraid of loss. When the master returned, he didn’t applaud the safe choice. He honoured the faithful ones - those who dared to use what they’d been given. The lesson? Grace carries expectation. Accountability dignifies the gift.

We honour sacrifice when we steward freedom with purpose.

At our Salvation Army Hall, volunteers arrive early on a Sunday morning to prepare for the Community Lunch. You can smell the roast potatoes before you see the team - one lays out the meat for the oven, another cheerfully chops the carrots, another gets the food trays ready to serve. No spotlight. No applause. Just steady, grateful service. Freedom, translated into love.

But let’s be honest - it’s easy to forget. We scroll past suffering. We drown compassion beneath our deadlines. We mistake comfort for calling. Yet remembrance demands response. If others shed blood for our liberty, and Christ shed his for our salvation, then what will we do with such mercy?

Philippians 1:27 says, “Above all, you must live as citizens of heaven, conducting yourselves in a manner worthy of the Good News about Christ”. Worthiness doesn’t mean flawlessness. It means direction - aligning our choices with the grace we’ve received.

So, what does that look like?

It looks like courage in small things - sending that message you’ve delayed, forgiving the one who hurt you, choosing service over cynicism. It looks like gratitude expressed in action, not guilt. Gratitude that cooks lunch, drives the minibus, listens without judgement, prays without fanfare.

Freedom isn’t for storage. It’s for sharing.

Your freedom of time - use it to notice someone today. Your freedom of speech - use it to encourage, not tear down. Your freedom of faith - use it to build God’s kingdom, not your comfort zone.

So, here’s today’s step: find one tangible way to live gratitude. Write a thank-you to someone who serves quietly. Mend a relationship that’s gone cold. Begin that project you’ve been postponing because fear said “later”. Make good visible.

Because the master will return.

And when he does, there’s only one phrase worth hearing: “Well done, my good and faithful servant”. (Matthew 25:21).

That’s the applause that matters. The echo of heaven’s gratitude for lives that didn’t just remember sacrifice - they embodied it.

Prayer: Lord Jesus, you gave your life for ours. Thank you for those who gave so much for freedom. Teach us to live grateful, not guilty - active, not afraid. May our words and deeds honour both their sacrifice and yours. Amen.

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Unless otherwise shown, all Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright 1996, 2004, 2007, 2015 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved. All song extracts used by permission. CCL Licence No. 135015.