Pinch, Punch, First of the Month... 

Tues 1st Sept 2026  

When you were younger, I wonder if you had that horrible ritual of welcoming the first day of a new month with: "Pinch, punch, first of the month, and no returns!" A really weird game/tradition where, if you remembered, you had permission to pinch and punch your "friends" and they weren't allowed to return the favour!

As human beings, we have loads of these random rituals - you may have even weirder ones, who knows? 

Without or without the pinch or the punch, the first day of a month has a particular feel to it — it’s a type of threshold day. A day that doesn’t demand celebration, yet still invites attention.

And into that small, calendar‑shaped doorway, Lamentations offers one of Scripture’s most tender truths:

Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail.
They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness.
I say to myself, “The LORD is my portion; therefore I will wait for Him.”

LAM 3.22-24

The first of the month is a small doorway into God’s larger rhythm of renewal - a reminder that mercy is not merely an emergency supply but a daily promise.

It’s striking that this promise appears in a book full of grief. Not in a psalm of triumph, not in a moment of clarity, but in the middle of lament.

Mercy doesn’t wait for our best days.
It arrives in the rubble.
It rises in the dark.
It renews even when nothing else feels new.

“New every morning” means mercy is not a rare resource.
It’s not rationed.
It’s not earned.
It’s not fragile.
It’s rhythmic — like breath, like tide, like sunrise.
And if mercy renews every morning, then the first of the month is simply a larger morning — a wider horizon of grace.

So today, as we step into a fresh page of the calendar, we’re invited to trust that God’s faithfulness is already ahead of us. In the meetings we haven’t had. In the conversations we’re nervous about. In the tasks that feel too heavy. In the hopes we barely dare to name.

The month begins - and mercy begins with it.
Not because we are strong, but because God is steadfast.
Not because we are organised, but because God is faithful.
Not because we are ready, but because God is already present.

He is our portion - and so my childish tradition is wrong when it says: "no returns..."
Mercy tells me that I can return, as surely as the dawn follows the night.
I can start again from where I am...

His rhythm of mercy is more reliable than any other "portion"... it's the only thing worth waiting for. 
For on that day when these eyes of mine will no longer see the sunrise, His mercy will shine stronger than our strength - His grace outlasting our days!

So we breathe.
And so we begin again.
We let the rhythm of mercy resonate with the reality of routine.
We let the newness of God meet the newness of the month.

Christ of the clear morning,
Keeper of kindness,
cradle this new month in Your mercy.

As light lifts over the land,
let Your love lift in us -
steady and sure,
steadying our stumbling,
shaping our steps.

Where days feel dark, be our dawn.
Where hearts feel heavy, be our hope.

Bless our beginnings with Your bright grace;
bless our burdens with the Your breath of Your peace.

Guide us by quiet streams,
guard us in gathering storms,
gladden us with gentle surprises of Your goodness.

Christ of the turning tide,
Christ of the tender truth,
Christ of the time yet to come -
make this month a meadow where mercy grows.

In Jesus Name, I pray
Amen.