As she moves into 2026, Gemma Hunt takes a critical look at the items on her bookshelf, and considers what her possessions may be communicating about her faith in Jesus 

Coffee,_flowers_and_books_(Unsplash)

Source: Unsplash

At the beginning of a new year, I often find myself taking stock. Not just of my diary or my habits, but of my home. The quieter moments after Christmas have a way of drawing my attention to the things I leave lying around: the books on my coffee table, the ornaments on the shelves, even the food and drink in the cupboards. These things speak. Long before we open our mouths, our homes tell stories about who we are and what we value. 

This was brought home to me recently when a friend gave us a book for Christmas: In This Light: Thoughts for Christmas by Justin Welby. Now, I’m very aware that people will have their own strong opinions about the former Archbishop of Canterbury. Yours may be very different from mine, and that’s understandable. Our views are shaped by the information we’ve received and the experiences we’ve had. I’ve spent time with Justin away from the spotlight, so my perspective is inevitably different to someone who only knows him through headlines. 

We had visitors for New Year and one of them noticed the book on our coffee table. He also has personal experience of Justin, so the gift itself didn’t spark debate, but it did make me think. What does it say about us when we choose to display certain books, authors or ideas in our homes? When someone visits and notices what’s on our shelves, they will - consciously or not - form opinions about us. Will their opinion about that Phillip Yancey book we may own be different after this week’s news came to light?  

I want what’s on display to point, however imperfectly, to something deeper and truer

I’m not suggesting we curate our homes to impress others or avoid challenge. Quite the opposite. I’ve been asking myself whether I’m ready to have honest, even difficult, conversations about the things I display. If someone questions a book on my shelf, an ornament on my sideboard or even the wine I offer them, am I prepared to explain why it’s there? Can I speak with integrity about how it fits with my faith, or does it simply reflect what’s comfortable, fashionable or ‘worldly’? 

This thought process has also pushed me to think about how quickly we judge other people. In 1 Corinthians, Paul reminds us that “we know in part”. That’s a humbling truth. We do not yet have the full picture. Our knowledge of a person, situation or controversy is always partial, filtered through our own lens and limitations. Before we rush to make final judgements, perhaps we need to slow down, do a little more digging, read more widely or listen more carefully. 

As I look around my home this year, I want what’s on display to point, however imperfectly, to something deeper and truer. I want it to open doors to meaningful conversations rather than close them. And I want to remember that just as others are forming opinions about me, I am called to extend grace, curiosity and patience to them.  

After all, we are all still learning, still seeing in part, and still being shaped by the one who knows us fully.