Peace be with you
by Mark Lieschke
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Again Jesus said, ‘Peace be with you! As the Father has sent me, I am sending you.’ And with that he breathed on them and said, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit’ (John 20:21,22).
Read John 20:19–23
The Christian faith is rejected by most people in the world today. Its truths are no longer generally believed or followed. And it can seem to many, both outside and even to some within the church, that the Christian faith is no longer the power it once was or an effective force in the world.
Maybe, in the back of our minds, there’s the same nagging suspicion. We look around us and see the many other things in the world that influence people, and we can wonder just what kind of influence the church has today. Has it lost its power? Have we lost our way? Are we becoming more and more of a lost cause?
On the day Jesus rose from the grave, the disciples gathered behind closed doors, and there was a good deal of confusion in their minds.
Their hopes about participating in a glorious kingdom lay shattered; their Lord and friend had been put to death. The years they had spent following and listening to him may have seemed wasted.
But when Jesus appeared and stood in the middle of them and said, ‘Peace be with you’, their fear was changed into joy. Doubt and confusion were transformed into belief. Despair and anxiety were replaced by excitement and a desire to share what they had seen and heard.
A change took place within them that would have a lasting impact on their lives, and in turn, on the lives of millions of others.
That power is still at work – despite what we may see and experience. The Holy Spirit continues to come today to empower, encourage, equip, transform, strengthen and motivate us.
The peace of the Lord Jesus be with you today. May your life be enriched as you receive this peace. And may the Holy Spirit give you courage as Jesus sends you to share that peace.
Merciful God, your Son Jesus Christ is the resurrection and the life, who gives hope and joy even as we live and serve in a world that can seem to oppose us at every turn. Fill us with your Holy Spirit and empower us to share your peace with those around us, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
Mark Lieschke is a retired pastor living on the Sunshine Coast in Queensland and is a member of Immanuel Lutheran Church Buderim. He served in parishes in Adelaide SA, Palmerston North and Marton in New Zealand and Wagga Wagga NSW (school and congregation), before being elected as bishop of the LCANZ’s New South Wales District. He and his wife, Meredith, have four children (two of whom live in Canada) and two grandchildren. Mark enjoys spending time with family and friends, travelling, walking on the beach and resting.
Slow praise
by Jane Mueller
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O Lord, how manifold are your works! In wisdom you have made them all; the earth is full of your creatures (Psalm 104:24).
Read Psalm 104:24–34,35b
Today is World Turtle Day.
It’s one of those observances that feels quietly charming. Turtles don’t rush. They don’t demand attention. They simply move at their own pace: slow, steady and unbothered by the noise around them. They have been doing this for a very long time.
Psalm 104 invites us into that same unhurried posture.
This psalm doesn’t argue for God’s existence or try to prove anything. It simply notices. The psalmist looks at the world – the seas and creatures within them, the cycles of life and breath, the rhythms of work and rest – and responds with awe. Creation is not frantic. It’s ordered and sustained. Held.
Again and again, the psalm returns to one thing: life depends on God’s ongoing care. When God gives breath, creatures live. When God sustains, creation flourishes. Nothing is self-made. Nothing is self-sustaining. And we rejoice knowing that God not only sustains creation now, he also promises its renewal – a future shaped by resurrection, a promise secured for us in Christ.
In a society that rewards speed, efficiency and constant output, Psalm 104 slows us down. It reminds us that wonder takes time. Praise requires attention. Trust grows through noticing what God is already doing.
Even creatures like turtles – ancient, steady and unremarkable by modern standards – bear quiet witness to our Creator, whose wisdom is deeper than our impatience.
To pause and delight in creation is not an abuse of precious time. It is faith. It is choosing to see the world as something sustained by God and worthy of praise, rather than something to be conquered or consumed.
And so, our week of devotions ends where it began: not with control or worldly certainty, but with lives quietly held by our Creator God.
Creator God, slow me down when I rush past wonder and overlook your care. Open my eyes to the beauty around me, my heart to praise and my spirit to trust your sustaining presence. In a world that demands speed and output, remind me again that, along with all creation, I am held by you. Amen.
Jane is a former Lutheran school principal and now serves as the Governance Leadership Director for Lutheran Education SA/NT/WA. Jane has a keen interest in psychology, hiking, learning new things and trying new things.
Essential lessons in Vegemite application
by Jane Mueller
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Let what you heard from the beginning abide in you (1 John 2:24a).
Read 1 John 2:24–29
It’s taken me years to master the art of Vegemite application.
This is not a skill you acquire in childhood and then forget about. It requires discipline, focus and a surprising amount of self-control. It takes patience, restraint and a willingness to learn from mistakes. Too much Vegemite, and you’ve ruined perfectly good toast. Too little, and you’re left wondering whether you’re even trying. I’ve had seasons of confidence, moments of regret and the occasional identity crisis when I thought I’d finally nailed it, only to discover I’d drifted off course again.
But as a proud Australian, applying Vegemite to toast is an essential life skill. You don’t dabble with Vegemite. You don’t improvise wildly or freestyle your way to success. Vegemite doesn’t reward experimentation. It demands commitment. You learn the basics, you respect them and – crucially – you stick with them.
In today’s reading, John is writing to a community where sticking to the basics is becoming increasingly harder.
New ideas are circulating. New voices are claiming authority. Some teaching sounds impressive, even sophisticated. There’s no pressure to abandon faith altogether, but certainly to adjust it. Tweak it here, update it there. Make it fit more comfortably with what feels new or fashionable.
John’s advice is remarkably simple: ‘Let what you heard from the beginning abide in you.’
Stay. Remain. Stick.
This isn’t fear of change or resistance to growth. John isn’t warning against learning, reflection or being reshaped – he’s cautioning against forgetting Christ himself. Abiding means continually returning to Christ and trusting him to keep doing his work in us. It is not about clinging tightly but trusting that we are already being held.
Abiding takes patience. It means resisting the urge to constantly upgrade, rebrand or improve what was already given as a gift. It means trusting that God – who held us from the beginning – is still enough.
This brings us back to Vegemite. It doesn’t need experimentation or reinventing. Nor does it require upgrading or rebranding. Spread too thin, and it disappears. Tinker too much, and it loses its point. But used as it was intended, it does exactly what it’s meant to do: it nourishes. John’s advice is just as practical: stick with what you heard from the beginning. Stay. Abide. Don’t drift.
Faithful God, when I am tempted to chase what is new, impressive or fashionable, draw me back to the life you give. When I drift, help me return. When I complicate faith, remind me of the grace I first received in Christ. Hold me steady in your love and keep me grounded in you. Amen.
Jane is a former Lutheran school principal and now serves as the Governance Leadership Director for Lutheran Education SA/NT/WA. Jane has a keen interest in psychology, hiking, learning new things and trying new things.
Confidence without control
by Jane Mueller
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… for we walk by faith, not by sight (2 Corinthians 5:7).
Read 2 Corinthians 5:1–10
On this day in 1932, Amelia Earhart landed in a field in Northern Ireland, having flown solo and nonstop across the Atlantic. Historians write that she was exhausted, cold and unsure about where she was. Still, she had made it.
Earhart didn’t fly with certainty. She flew with resolve. The weather changed, instruments failed and visibility dropped. The journey carried risk from the moment she took off. Confidence, for her, meant stepping forward anyway.
Paul speaks of a confidence like that.
In 2 Corinthians 5, Paul describes life as fragile, like a tent – temporary and vulnerable. Bodies age, plans unravel and outcomes remain uncertain. Paul knows this firsthand, and yet he says, ‘We are confident’ (verses six and eight).
Confident. Not because life is predictable. Not because the future feels secure. Not because everything can be seen or measured.
Paul’s confidence does not rest in worldly knowledge and strength, or in what he can personally secure or manage. It rests in the one who holds him. He writes, ‘We walk by faith, not by sight.’ Faith is trusting that God is already at work beyond what we can see, even when we cannot forecast how things will unfold. Or, as Philip Yancey wrote in Disappointment with God, ‘Faith means believing in advance what will only make sense in reverse.’
Like Earhart, Paul doesn’t deny risk. Rather, he acknowledges it without being ruled by it. He refuses to let uncertainty have the final word or to let fear speak louder than God’s promises. Confidence, for Paul, is not bravado; it’s keeping going when the risk is real, because he knows his life is already held.
This kind of confidence doesn’t eliminate fear. It carries us through it.
And so, I ask myself: What am I avoiding right now because I’m afraid? Where have I mistaken caution for faithfulness, when it might actually be fear? What decision could I approach today with trust rather than fear, remembering that the outcome does not rest on me?
God of grace, when the path ahead feels unclear, and the outcome isn’t mine to manage, steady me. When I’m weighing decisions, juggling responsibilities or quietly wondering how much energy I have left, remind me that I am not alone. I am held by you. Amen.
Jane is a former Lutheran school principal and now serves as the Governance Leadership Director for Lutheran Education SA/NT/WA. Jane has a keen interest in psychology, hiking, learning new things and trying new things.
Pulling on the maroon jersey
by Jane Mueller
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… that they may all be one … so that the world may believe that you have sent me (John 17:21).
Read John 17:11b–26
I grew up in South Australia, where football meant AFL. Footy was played with an oval ball, and jumpers were sleeveless. Winter weekends revolved around long arguments about umpiring decisions while kicking a Sherrin in the backyard.
Rugby league was a term used by foreigners. It felt like something that happened somewhere else, to other people.
Then I moved to Queensland.
And it didn’t take long to be re-educated.
I learned that rugby league isn’t just a sport; it’s a cultural commitment. State of Origin is not ‘just a game’. It doesn’t simply appear on the calendar; it shapes it. Organisations wait for the State of Origin dates to be released before setting their own meeting dates and events. After all, expecting attendance at anything unrelated to rugby league during a State of Origin game would be foolishly naïve and wildly optimistic.
For most of the season, men play for rival clubs, where they train separately, chase different trophies and zealously try to beat one another every week. But when State of Origin arrives, club loyalties are set aside. Players who spend most of the year competing against one another pull on the maroon jersey and play together as Queensland. Differences remain, but they are laid down for something bigger. The Maroons play as one, not because they are the same, but because they are committed to a shared purpose.
In today’s reading, Jesus prays for something like that – only deeper, and for the sake of the world.
Jesus prays for all believers. He doesn’t ask that his followers all think the same, agree on everything or lose their distinctiveness. He prays that they may be one – grounded in love, shaped by relationship and held together by God.
And Jesus names what is at stake: ‘So that the world may believe.’ Unity is not an institutional church aspiration – it’s missional. The way followers of Jesus live together communicates something about God to the world.
This kind of unity is not easy because it runs counter to the habits our world rewards. It grows as fruit where love is already at work, forming humility, patience, forgiveness and restraint. Unity is not about winning arguments, but remembering what we’re playing for and who we belong to.
Jesus prays this on the eve of betrayal and abandonment, when everything that could hold his followers together is about to give way. He knows unity will be tested. Still, he places his followers into God’s care and asks that his love – not rivalry – would define them. In a fractured world, unity shaped by love becomes a powerful witness – not because it’s easy, but because it’s rare.
Lord Jesus, you know how easily difference turns into division. When patience runs short, when relationships feel strained, and when unity feels costly, hold us together in your love. Amen.
Jane is a former Lutheran school principal and now serves as the Governance Leadership Director for Lutheran Education SA/NT/WA. Jane has a keen interest in psychology, hiking, learning new things and trying new things.
Rivers, not rations
by Jane Mueller
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I will open rivers on the bare heights and fountains in the midst of the valleys; I will make the wilderness a pool of water and the dry land springs of water (Isaiah 41:18).
Read Isaiah 41:17–20
Water appears throughout Scripture.
It appears early, in creation, where God’s Spirit hovers over the waters. It reappears in the wilderness when thirsty people discover that survival depends on God’s provision. (Think: water from rocks, streams that appear, wells discovered just in time.) Water flows through the psalms, the prophets, the gospels and the final vision of Revelation, where a river of life runs clear and unending.
In Isaiah 41, water is urgent. The people Isaiah describes are poor and needy. They are parched. They are searching – not for abundance, but for just enough. Into that desperation, God speaks a promise that feels excessive: rivers on barren heights, fountains in valleys, pools in dry land.
These are not places where water should be.
Throughout Scripture, water is rarely just about hydration. It signals that God is near. It marks moments when life is sustained, boundaries are crossed, and futures are renewed. From the rock in the wilderness to the River Jordan, and from the well where Jesus meets a Samaritan woman to the living water he promises, water appears wherever God is creating life where it seemed unlikely.
Isaiah insists that this provision is not accidental. ‘That they may see and know … that the hand of the Lord has done this’ (verse 20). This water becomes a sign of who God is.
When people are stretched thin, God meets their needs out of his generosity. We are held by the God who provides, often in ways we don’t expect.
The promise of water does not imply that life will never be dry again. But it does announce that dryness will not have the final word.
Gracious and abundant God, you know where I feel dry, stretched thin, or running on empty. Meet me with what I need today – not what I can manufacture, but what only you can give. Open streams of life where I see no way forward, and help me to trust that, even now, I am held by you. Amen.
Jane is a former Lutheran school principal and now serves as the Governance Leadership Director for Lutheran Education SA/NT/WA. Jane has a keen interest in psychology, hiking, learning new things and trying new things.
Do not disturb
by Jane Mueller
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My people will abide in a peaceful habitation, in secure dwellings, and in quiet resting places (Isaiah 32:18).
Read Isaiah 32:14–20
Putting your phone on ‘do not disturb’ doesn’t make the world go quiet. Notifications still arrive. Messages still stack up. The noise doesn’t disappear. It’s just that it no longer governs you. Moments are no longer determined by a device.
Isaiah speaks of peace in a similar way. He describes a scene where things are not as they should be. Palaces are abandoned, the city is levelled, and the land is overgrown with thorns. And yet, into this disorder, God speaks of quiet resting places, secure dwellings and peace that abides.
This is not the peace of everything being fixed. It’s the peace that allows you to stay present instead of shutting down or running away. It’s the peace that doesn’t silence the noise but refuses to let the noise run everything. It’s the peace of being held.
It’s not when circumstances finally cooperate that peace appears. Peace comes when God’s Spirit is poured out. It is not the reward for getting things right; it is the gift that allows us to endure while things remain unresolved. It comes before anything is resolved, and it holds even when chaos doesn’t let up.
This kind of peace doesn’t shout, announce itself or demand a response. Like a phone set to ‘do not disturb’, it simply refuses to let every disruption take control.
Isaiah describes people living quietly, not because they are free of threats, but because they are grounded in God’s care and provision. God’s peace holds when life is disordered, noisy, uncertain or unfinished. Peace is often felt when attention shifts from everything that clambers for a response to the God who is already holding us.
God’s promise of peace is not about escapism. The peace he promises is the ability to remain in this world – with all its obstacles, troubles and challenges – without being defeated.
God of peace, when my mind is noisy and my attention is pulled in too many directions, help me rest in you. When messages pile up, expectations press in and nothing feels settled, remind me that I am held in your care. Quiet what needs quieting and keep me grounded in your presence today. Amen.
Jane is a former Lutheran school principal and now serves as the Governance Leadership Director for Lutheran Education SA/NT/WA. Jane has a keen interest in psychology, hiking, learning new things and trying new things.
Held
by Jane Mueller
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Holy Father, protect them in your name that you have given me … (John 17:11b).
Read John 17:1–11
Jesus prays this when everything is about to unravel.
The teaching is finished. The meal is over. The room will soon be empty. Jesus knows what’s coming. Arrest, betrayal, confusion and fear are just hours away. Everything that had begun to make sense is about to collapse.
And yet, he does not rush. He does not scramble. He does not strategise or issue final instructions.
He prays.
Jesus lifts his eyes and speaks to his Father. He doesn’t cry out for escape; he calls for care. He doesn’t plead that his followers be spared from what’s coming; he pleads that they be protected through it – kept in the Father’s name. He prays that they would be held.
The Christian life is about being held. The disciples are held before they understand. Held when their faithfulness falters. Held before they find their footing again.
Jesus does not pray that his followers will hold it all together. He prays that they will be held. Held when fear strips away certainty. Held when unity is strained. Held when security seems distant. Held when the next step feels unclear. Held when tomorrow feels unthinkable. Held when praise comes slowly, and trust has to be relearned.
This is the beginning: God holding us. It’s not about our grip; it’s about God’s.
The Bible readings for the days ahead will speak of peace in noisy places, provision in dry ones, unity under pressure, confidence without control, faithfulness in the ordinary and praise that moves at an unhurried pace. Every one of these readings flows from this same starting point. We do not keep going by gripping harder; we keep going because God is already holding us.
We are held.
Heavenly Father, when I feel overwhelmed, unsure or afraid of what lies ahead, remind me that I do not have to hold everything together. Hold me when my inner world feels unsteady, when fear gets loud, and when trust has to be relearnt. Amen.
Jane is a former Lutheran school principal and now serves as the Governance Leadership Director for Lutheran Education SA/NT/WA. Jane has a keen interest in psychology, hiking, learning new things and trying new things.
A loving, committed Father
by Charles Bertelsmeier
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Father to the fatherless, defender of widows – this is God, whose dwelling is holy. God places the lonely in families; he sets the prisoners free and gives them joy (Psalm 68:5,6a).
Read Psalm 68:1–10,32–35
I can say that the above verses align with my personal experience. I had a very loving father, and I was able to transfer the wonderful positives of my relationship with him to my Heavenly Father. I have experienced God’s deliverance in threatening experiences and his liberation from severe negatives in my life.
But I know lots of people who have been failed or feel they’ve been failed by actual fathers and father figures, by absent fathers and fathers who died while they were young, and then seemingly by God also.
So how do we reconcile our experiences of people suffering severely and a loving God who says he loves and cares for everyone? Many people use this as an excuse for rejecting the Christian God (and any god, in fact).
From my reading of the Bible, and the stories of real people’s lives, I am one hundred per cent convinced that our loving Heavenly Father is working in the lives of every single person in this world to draw them into a relationship with the Heavenly Family (Father, Son and Holy Spirit). Remember that God’s Son, Jesus, suffered the humiliating execution on a Roman cross for every single person who has ever lived, is alive now, and who will live in the future, to remove all barriers to them being welcomed into this heavenly family.
How God works in people’s lives is very specific to each person. God knows each person intimately, and out of his love for them, works in the way he knows best to reach them with the offer of his healing and restoring love.
Beyond that, I am not going to sit in judgement of God as to how he could have done a better job with any specific person.
However, I repeatedly surrender all that I am and have to God so he can use me as part of the way he works in people’s lives and change me so that I can be used by him more. I say ‘repeatedly’ because I also regularly take back control of my life, because I haven’t yet learned to fully trust God with my life, and often think I can do a better job. Thank God for his gracious love and mercy.
Heavenly Father, you have declared your love and commitment to every single person in this world, and you are working in their lives to bring them into a relationship with you. I surrender all that I am and have to you to use me as your hands, feet and voice of love to those I interact with each day. Amen.