A Novel · Kindle Edition

Be Still and Know

A Comedy of Faith, Doubt, and a Very Bad Cat

by Charles Lobo — The Christian Hypnotherapist

A warm-hearted comedy of village life, anxious vicars, and the unexpected ways God heals the mind.

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 A gentle, funny read for anyone who has ever white-knuckled their way through faith.

Be Still and Know book cover — a young vicar sits with his eyes closed in a sunlit church while a mangy ginger cat chews an altar lily and a tweed-jacketed hypnotherapist takes notes.

He knows all the right prayers.
He just can't stop his hands from shaking.

Reverend Thomas Hayes knows the right doctrines and the right pastoral phrases. What he doesn't know is how to quiet his own mind. As the newly appointed Vicar of St Botolph's—in the sleepy, yet surprisingly combative, village of Lower Pelham—he is hiding a secret: crippling panic attacks. He is terrified of his own mind, and even more terrified that his anxiety is a spiritual failure.

It doesn't help that his new flock is entirely out of his control. The church roof is leaking, the congregation is dwindling, and a menacing Archdeacon is demanding results. Thomas is nearing his breaking point.

Then Dr Joseph Miller arrives in the village—a Christian hypnotherapist with a brass plaque and a quiet clinic. For Thomas, that door is both a desperate temptation and a theological nightmare. Is seeking treatment for the mind a dangerous spiritual backdoor, or is it the exact stewardship God requires? Is it occult surrender, or is it what Christ actually meant by “Be still, and know”?

Meet Lower Pelham

A parish held together by too much communion bread, a great deal of stubbornness, and one thoroughly unrepentant cat.

Reverend Thomas Hayes, the anxious young vicar, in a black cassock and white collar.

The Vicar

Thomas Hayes

Knows every right prayer. Can't stop his hands from shaking—and is sure that means his faith has failed.

George Stubbs, the broad, bearded village verger, holding a loaf of communion bread.

The Verger

George Stubbs

Bakes far too much communion bread, quietly breaks the law to feed poor widows, and speaks to the cat in the only language it respects: sausages.

Jeddiah Finch, the tall, gaunt, severe sidesman, holding a black umbrella upright like a pike.

The Sidesman

Jeddiah Finch

Rigid, watchful, and certain the devil's work hides in every modern convenience—and every closed pair of eyes.

Dr Joseph Miller, the Christian hypnotherapist, in a tweed jacket and spectacles with a notebook.

The Hypnotherapist

Dr Joseph Miller

A new arrival with a gentle manner and an impossible question: is settling the noise a surrender of the will, or a way to finally catch your breath?

Nebuchadnezzar, the mangy ginger church cat, with a white altar lily in his mouth.

The Very Bad Cat

Nebuchadnezzar

A mangy, notch-eared brute with a taste for altar lilies, a permanent expression of low-tier criminal intent, and a highly personal vendetta against the Vicar.

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From Chapter One — The Altar Lilies and the Devil's Ledger

Nebuchadnezzar was not a church cat by any theological definition. He was a long, scrawny alley cat with jagged black stripes cutting through a mangy orange coat, a notched left ear from some long-forgotten orchard brawl, and a permanent expression of low-tier criminal intent. At this exact moment, he was sitting on the velvet cushion reserved for the Bishop's knees, casually eating the white altar lilies.

“Shoo,” I said, attempting to inject the word with a commanding, pastoral authority.

Nebuchadnezzar did not shoo. He stopped chewing, fixed me with a stare of unadulterated contempt, and deliberately knocked a terracotta pot off the altar step with his left paw. It shattered against the Norman tiles, sending a shockwave of damp potting soil across the pristine chancel floor.

I stood paralysed, frantically searching my seminary training for a liturgical response to feline vandalism…

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The question at the heart of it

Caught between Jeddiah's strict warnings of spiritual ruin and George's blunt, earthy wisdom, Thomas must finally stop running from his own fears. To save his parish—and himself—he has to discover whether true faith means white-knuckling his way through life, or simply learning how to breathe.

“Be still, and know that I am God.”

— Psalm 46:10

Perfect for readers who love the warm observations of James Herriot and the gentle humour of Don Camillo—a delightful, wise, and funny exploration of grace, grief, and the quiet miracles of a renewed mind.

A note from the author

Charles Lobo, author and Christian hypnotherapist

George, Jeddiah, and the thoroughly unrepentant Nebuchadnezzar are, of course, inventions. But the heavy fog Thomas carried—and the help that lifted it from him—is very real.

I am a practising Christian hypnotherapist. Over the years I have sat with countless people who, just like Thomas, love God deeply but are privately exhausted by their own minds. We readily accept that a broken bone needs setting, or a leaking church roof needs repairing. Our minds, fearfully and wonderfully made, deserve that same careful, unapologetic stewardship.

If you are tired of fighting the fog on your own—or simply want to ask a few cautious questions, just like Thomas did—my door is always open. You don't have to carry it all alone.

Questions about the book, or about the work behind it? Email me at thechristianhypnotherapist@gmail.com.

Be still, and know. — Charles Lobo

Read Be Still and Know

A comedy of grace for anyone who has ever been terrified of the silence before prayer.

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Or reach the author directly at thechristianhypnotherapist@gmail.com.