Chapel Blog
Chapel topics in the middle school and high school are based on the Bible verse and theme selected for that school year. The lessons taught by the verse are broken down into monthly themes, and then taught weekly in chapel. Chapel blogs are written by Spiritual Formation Director John Bishop, Westminster administrators and teachers, and even students, and complement the teachings in weekly chapel.
2026
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God Leaves the Light On
Read Moreby John Bishop, Director of Spiritual Formation, based on this week's MS/HS Chapel
Last week, I described the tension of driving a car that was clearly breaking down while climbing a mountain onvacation. Our destination was my friend’s parents’ house, or as it’s known to us, The Bear’s Den. At the top of the winding road that leads to the house stands a wrought-iron gate with bears cast into the bars. Hand-carved wooden bears stand guard at the entrance, and occasionally there are actual bears disappearing into the woods as you pass through.For nearly eight years, we’ve spent the week after Christmas at The Bear's Den. It has become familiar territory, filled with shared meals, stories, and comforting traditions. So, when our struggling car finally sputtered around the last corner and the gate came into view, our entire family erupted in unison: “We made it.”The relief was immediate. The fear of being stranded faded, the tension drained from our shoulders, and what replaced it was something deeper, a genuine sense of arrival. Ahh…we're home. After a fifteen-hour travel day, that moment felt like an emotional exhale. To make it even better, our friend’s mom had her famous spaghetti waiting and made sure everyone had a full plate the moment we walked through the door.There is no feeling quite like going home. And conversely, there are few pains as deep as the ache of wanting to be home and not being able to get there. That hollow homesickness—the emptiness that settles in our gut—is a beacon calling us back to what is familiar, safe, and secure. It is the longing for belonging, and it is an echo straight out of Eden.God is our Father. He made us in His image, and from the moment we rebelled against Him in the garden, He has been working relentlessly to bring us back home. In short, God leaves the light on. He has the table set, the meal ready, and He waits at the gate for us to return.We were never meant to navigate life alone, grinding through its inevitable struggles without direction or hope. Through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus, the way home has been made clear. Even if we arrive broken and battered, like the prodigal son, or like my own check-engine-light version, when we finally round the corner, we find God standing at the gate, ready to welcome us home.Don’t accept the lies that try to convince us that success in this life is what ultimately matters, or that lasting joy can be found in material things. Those lies are whispered by the same forked tongue that deceived Adam and Eve in the garden, promising freedom while delivering exile. Instead, come home to Jesus. In Him, we find not only forgiveness, but restoration, belonging, and the new life we were created for. -
Mourners
Read Moreby John Bishop, Director of Spiritual Formation, based on this week's MS/HS ChapelThis week, we continue with the second beatitude found in Matthew 5:4:
“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.”
At first glance, this verse sounds like a contradiction. How can someone who is mourning—someone in the depths of grief—be considered blessed? Mourning is tied to loss, pain, and heartache. It doesn’t feel desirable, let alone like a pathway to blessing. And yet, Jesus makes this bold promise: those who mourn will be comforted.
The truth is, grief touches all of us—often more frequently than we realize. While we tend to associate mourning with funerals or major life tragedies, the need to grieve surfaces in everyday disappointments, too.
Consider a scene at Starbucks: after waiting in a painfully long line, you finally step up to order your favorite drink—a venti oat milk chai latte—only to be told they’ve run out of oat milk. Your sigh and half-defeated “Okay, fine, I’ll take almond,” is a small expression of grief. You’ve let go of the ideal you were holding onto and accepted something less than perfect. It might sound trivial, but it reveals something deeper: every loss, big or small, invites us to acknowledge what we hoped for and come to terms with what is.
You could have refused to grieve. You could have clung to your ideal, raised your voice, and tried to force the world to meet your expectations. But reality doesn’t always bend to our will. And when we try to ignore our grief—when we pretend, we’re fine or demand control—we miss the very thing Jesus promises: comfort.
Grief is not weakness; it’s a doorway. When we allow ourselves to mourn—whether it’s the loss of a loved one, a dream, or even oat milk—we acknowledge our limits and our longing. And in that honest space, God meets us. He doesn’t shame our sorrow. He sits with us in it. And through His presence, we find real comfort.
So this week, ask yourself: What loss have I minimized or ignored? Where do I need to make space to mourn? Because in that space, Jesus says, we are blessed—and we will be comforted.
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2026
Westminster Christian School, located in Palmetto Bay, Florida, is a private, college-preparatory school for children from preschool through twelfth grade.