Name the tune
by Reid Matthias
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And they sang a new song (Revelation 5:9a).
Read Revelation 5:6–14
The Book of Revelation is generally seen from two different perspectives. On one hand, there are those who think about it as that ‘freaky book of prophecy at the end of the Bible – let’s avoid it’, and on the other hand, there are those who say, ‘The Book of Revelation is the most important in the Bible, and the interpretation of it will unlock everything we need to know about God and the future – let’s study only that one.’
Perhaps somewhere in the middle of these two perspectives is some fertile ground for conversation and devotion. Shall we have a go at it?
There is immense pageantry in this passage of what was revealed to John. He describes the throne room, the hub of heaven. Sitting on the grand chair is God, who has in his hand the scroll that unlocks the secrets of what is most important to him, and he’s looking for someone worthy to read it. None of the four creatures is worthy to open the scroll. The 24 elders are left wanting. In fact, there is no-one in heaven or on Earth who can be found worthy of opening it.
While many might have been wondering what was written, those in attendance at the majesty and pageantry are overwhelmed with awe – deep, intense wonder – at the ‘Lamb who was slain’, who appears at the centre of the throne room. The attendees fall to their knees. Suddenly, everything they might have worried about in the scroll melts away, and they can only see the Lamb of God.
Once they recover their senses, the 24 elders pick up their harps and begin to sing a new song, completely focused on Jesus and what he had done. We aren’t told what their old song was, but if it’s anything like our contemporary world, the song might have been something like this:
I am worthy.
I have been faithful.
I have done all this for you, Jesus.
I have earned my way to heaven.
But the new song sung by the elders, then joined by 10,000 times 10,000 angels, and finally every creature in heaven and on Earth (can you imagine it!), is:
To him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb be praise and honour and glory and power forever and ever!
And they all fell down and worshipped.
You see, faith has never been about us. It’s never been about our good deeds and our ‘thoughts and prayers’. No, it’s always been about Jesus. It’s the song that should continue to be sung from now through eternity.
Here is the core of the Book of Revelation. It’s not simply a glimpse into the End Times, but more a spotlight on the One who has, is and will always love the creation and will bring it back to himself someday in the future.
Now, what will your new song sound like?
To him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb be praise and honour and glory and power, forever and ever. Amen.
Reid Matthias is the school pastor at St Andrews Lutheran College in Tallebudgera, Queensland. Reid is married to Christine, and together with their three incredible daughters, Elsa, Josephine and Greta, they have created a Spotify channel (A 13) where they have recorded music. Reid has recently published his seventh novel, A Miserable Antagonist. You can find all of his novels and music links at www.reidmatthias.com
The people you meet
by Reid Matthias
Click here to download your printable verse to carry with you today.
Then Philip ran up to the chariot and heard the man reading Isaiah the prophet. ‘Do you understand what you are reading?’ Philip asked (Acts 8:30).
Read Acts 8:29–35
Unfortunately, the context from this passage is not included in our reading today; however, Philip has been told by an angel of the Lord. No other directions, only ‘Go south to the desert road …’
It’s interesting how we meet the most wonderful people when we travel along paths that seem deserted. While on recent travels in a different country, I happened to be wearing a Fremantle Dockers cap. As we were walking outside the Vatican, a man eyed me curiously. As we passed each other on the street, he said to me, ‘Go the Pies.’ Of course, I wasn’t ready for someone who knew AFL; however, we had a brief conversation that ultimately resulted in another surprise.
We were on the same cruise ship. And we met each other again by the pool.
For 10 days, I met and re-met this man and his wife, and each time we did, we talked about deeper things. He found out I was a pastor in Australia, which, while he hadn’t had a positive experience with religion, he found the eventual conversation about faith fascinating and not at all what he expected.
Now, in likening my story with Philip’s story in the Bible, I did not eventually baptise him in the ship’s swimming pool. But the other similarities bear a resemblance. Philip was minding his own business when an angel directed him to go a certain way. When he did, he encountered a startling man – an important official, a eunuch, who was in charge of the treasury of Queen Candace in Ethiopia.
It would have been very easy for Philip to disregard this man. Certainly, this foreigner, this Gentile, and a disgraced one at that, could have been seen as outside the boundaries of grace. Philip’s response to the official’s question of faith was one of connection and faith. After the passage was explained to him, the official asked to be baptised, and what history tells us is that this Ethiopian official took the Christian faith back to Africa, where some of the oldest churches in history, older even than those in Europe, were started.
This was because of God’s hope of saving faith through Jesus for all people. God used Philip and his obedience simply to ‘Go south to the road – the desert road.’
On which deserted road might God be calling you? Can you imagine the interesting people you might meet and share the saving grace of Jesus with?
Thank you, Holy Spirit, for speaking to me, giving me guidance along the way. Open my eyes to the wonderful opportunities to share your love. Amen.
Reid Matthias is the school pastor at St Andrews Lutheran College in Tallebudgera, Queensland. Reid is married to Christine, and together with their three incredible daughters, Elsa, Josephine and Greta, they have created a Spotify channel (A 13) where they have recorded music. Reid has recently published his seventh novel, A Miserable Antagonist. You can find all of his novels and music links at www.reidmatthias.com
Are you serious?
by Reid Matthias
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‘Nazareth! Can anything good come from there?’ Nathanael asked. ‘Come and see,’ said Philip (John 1:46).
Read John 1:43–51
Let’s face it. We all know that one place, or that one town, where everyone said, ‘Uh, that’s the place to avoid.’ I won’t name any names here (other than Las Vegas, ugh), but picture that town or city in your mind. Then, understand why Nathanael questioned Jesus’ hometown.
For Nathanael, Nazareth would have carried the same significance as Woop Woop, Australia. Considered by many locals to be the middle of nowhere, Nazareth had no special meaning to anyone or anything. Additionally, the Old Testament Scriptures don’t seem to point to Nazareth much when it comes to Messianic prophecy, although Matthew says that the Messiah would be a Nazarene. Bethlehem, yes. Jerusalem, yes. Nazareth, not so much.
Therefore, Nathanael’s question is about being flabbergasted.
God doesn’t use the normal, everyday kind of place or person for his needs. God uses the famous and the entertaining. God uses bright lights and neon signs, right?
It’s interesting that Philip’s response to Nathanael’s question is so short and simple. ‘Come and see.’ Philip doesn’t have to convince Nathanael of Jesus’ power or his references. Jesus can do that on his own.
Just come and see. Jesus is the King, born in a manger. He’s the Lord of Creation walking down the road with sandy feet. He’s the Prince of Peace who will carry the cross for you and me.
So much more than we ever expected from someone from Woop Woop, Nazareth.
If I can offer any one piece of advice for this, on 21 January, it would be this: Don’t be surprised when the world’s limitations of Jesus fall short. Those who would call him a fairy tale, a myth, a liar and a fraud will someday come to the realisation that Jesus is the Son of God come for you and me to bring us to the Father for eternal life.
Come and see.
Thank you, Jesus, for coming to this world, a humble servant, a king with a cross. Thank you for superseding all my expectations and overwhelming me with joy for your future. Amen.
Reid Matthias is the school pastor at St Andrews Lutheran College in Tallebudgera, Queensland. Reid is married to Christine, and together with their three incredible daughters, Elsa, Josephine and Greta, they have created a Spotify channel (A 13) where they have recorded music. Reid has recently published his seventh novel, A Miserable Antagonist. You can find all of his novels and music links at www.reidmatthias.com
The very least
by Reid Matthias
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I tell you, among those born of women there is no-one greater than John; yet the one who is least in the kingdom of God is greater than he (Luke 7:28).
Read Luke 7:24–30
Is this hyperbole? Should we interpret Jesus’ words as a literal statement?
Because it feels as though these words are too over-the-top to believe. John the Baptist – the one who made straight the way in the desert, the one who baptised Jesus! – is not as great as the least in the kingdom.
Come on, really?
I guess I’d better see who’s on the list of ‘least of these’.
Jesus is pretty detailed about who these ‘greater-than-Johns’ are, and it comes from the Book of Matthew, chapter 25. This list includes the hungry, the naked, the sick and the imprisoned! The contemporary world is evidently quite content to treat Jesus’ words as hyperbole. There is no way that all the needy and the imprisoned can be greater than John the Baptist.
They haven’t done anything … They have no value … They clog up the system for those who produce …
These are the words of the Pharisees.
But Jesus literally says, ‘For I was hungry … I was thirsty … I was a stranger … I was naked, and I was imprisoned.’ And if we believe that Jesus is Lord of Lords and King of Kings, then Jesus is the one who is greater than John.
This means that when we seek to improve the lives of the hungry, the thirsty, the sick, the naked and the imprisoned, even if we do the very least, we are taking part in God’s work in his kingdom.
Much like the ancient Pharisees, modern-day humans expect Jesus to be on the side of the rich, the powerful and the important, but that’s not the case at all. Jesus (and John, for that matter) has never been what we expected. Thankfully, he ends up being more.
You may be hungry, thirsty, or sick while you read this. You may be exposed to the elements and suffering from the coldness of rejection. You may feel imprisoned by your thoughts and your past. Jesus is with you, child of God. Jesus draws you to himself, and instead of being the least, you are one of the most important people in the kingdom.
You are his beloved.
Thank you, Jesus, for your presence in my times of need. Help me see that in others also. Amen.
Reid Matthias is the school pastor at St Andrews Lutheran College in Tallebudgera, Queensland. Reid is married to Christine, and together with their three incredible daughters, Elsa, Josephine and Greta, they have created a Spotify channel (A 13) where they have recorded music. Reid has recently published his seventh novel, A Miserable Antagonist. You can find all of his novels and music links at www.reidmatthias.com
That nobody is somebody
by Reid Matthias
Click here to download your printable verse to carry with you today.
The first thing Andrew did was to find his brother Simon and tell him, ‘We have found the Messiah!’ (that is, the Christ). And Andrew brought his brother to Jesus (John 1:41,42a).
Read John 1:29–42
At first, Jesus wasn’t famous. Not like who the internet tells me are the five most famous people in the world: Cristiano Ronaldo and Lionel Messi (soccer players), followed by Kylie Jenner, Kim Kardashian and Taylor Swift.
No, Jesus was not a ‘nepo baby’ (someone made famous by their parents). His parents were not famous (not at that point, anyway), and he didn’t receive any extra assistance upon growing up, save some frankincense, myrrh and gold. And Jesus wouldn’t have been identified by anyone in Galilee. Except on those two days when Jesus walked by his cousin, John, who yelled out, ‘Look, the Lamb of God!’
Strange, isn’t it? Of all the things John could have said as he pointed. You know – ‘Hey, everybody, that’s the Son of God right there!’ or ‘Everybody drop what you’re doing. That man is going to save the entirety of human existence from their sins!’ And instead, he chose, ‘the Lamb of God!’
Maybe that was part of the intrigue for Andrew, one of John’s disciples. After John had been questioned about his own Messiah-ness, he pointed out his cousin, Jesus, as the one who was and is to come.
But he wasn’t famous.
Yet after one afternoon, Andrew saw enough in Jesus to run to the most important person in his life, his brother Peter (Simon). He told him that this no-name, nobody, wandering, totally unexpected rabbi was the Messiah. The one they’d been waiting for.
What would you do if Jesus showed up at your local grocery store? How would you react? If his identity was verified, who would you tell first, and how would you tell the story?
Lamb of God, Jesus Christ, come into my life today. Be with me where I’m staying. Be with me where I’m going. Be with me every second of my life. Amen.
Reid Matthias is the school pastor at St Andrews Lutheran College in Tallebudgera, Queensland. Reid is married to Christine, and together with their three incredible daughters, Elsa, Josephine and Greta, they have created a Spotify channel (A 13) where they have recorded music. Reid has recently published his seventh novel, A Miserable Antagonist. You can find all of his novels and music links at www.reidmatthias.com
The waiting
by Jane Mueller
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I waited patiently for the Lord; he inclined to me and heard my cry. He drew me up from the desolate pit, out of the miry bog, and set my feet upon a rock, making my steps secure (Psalm 40:1,2).
Read Psalm 40:1–11
There’s a kind of waiting that grinds. The kind where you’ve done everything right – prayed, served, persevered – and nothing shifts. Where your faith feels static, and your prayers seem unheard. David knew this waiting. He didn’t downplay it or romanticise it: ‘I waited patiently for the Lord.’ The original Hebrew text can be interpreted as, ‘I waited and waited.’ It’s not serene; it’s survival.
David called his place of despair ‘the desolate pit’. Sometimes, the pit is burnout. Sometimes, it’s depression. Sometimes, it’s the slow suffocation of carrying other people’s expectations while pretending you’re fine. The miry bog clings – fear of failure, resentment that you can’t say aloud, the quiet cynicism that creeps in when God feels absent.
And yet, David doesn’t stay in the mud. He’s pulled out, not because he climbed harder, but because God reached lower. ‘He drew me up … set my feet upon a rock.’ Grace does what striving never could.
Notice that the rescue doesn’t erase the scars. David still remembers the pit. He still names the waiting. Faith doesn’t mean pretending it never happened; it means standing steady while you still smell like the mud you came from.
Here we are in 2026. It’s still early in the year – the time we’re meant to feel renewed, focused and ready. But maybe you already feel spent. Perhaps you’ve hit February-level fatigue in January. If so, you’re right where grace works.
Maybe ‘waiting and waiting’ is your first act of faith this year. Not hustling, not forcing; just holding your ground while God does what only he can – because he still pulls people out of pits, even when the calendar’s shiny and your soul isn’t.
So, if you’re in the thick of it, stop polishing the mud or trying to climb your own way out of the pit. Wait … not because you’ve given up, but because you’ve handed it over. Trust that the waiting isn’t wasted. Give God the truth of it and let him meet you there. Let him lift you again. Let him restore you to solid and steady ground.
In her book, When the Heart Waits, Sue Monk Kidd writes, ‘When you’re waiting, you’re not doing nothing. You’re doing the most important something there is. You’re allowing your soul to grow up. If you can’t be still and wait, you can’t become what God created you to be.’
The pit isn’t the end of the story. It’s where grace starts to write a new one.
God, I’m tired of pretending the pit doesn’t exist. You see the exhaustion, the fear and the ache I’ve stopped naming. Meet me there. Pull me up again. Amen.
Jane is a former Lutheran school principal and now serves as Governance Leadership Director for Lutheran Education SA, NT & WA. Jane has a keen interest in psychology, enjoys hiking and loves learning about and trying new things.
Water + blood + spirit = real faith + real life
by Jane Mueller
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Whoever has the Son has life; whoever does not have the Son of God does not have life (1 John 5:12).
Read 1 John 5:6–12
We live in a world that trusts what it can see. If it can’t be proven, posted or peer-reviewed, it’s treated as suspect. But John cuts through the noise: the truest things aren’t always the loudest. God’s truth doesn’t shout through headlines; it quietly moves through the water, the blood and the Spirit.
The water points to Jesus’ baptism – God’s declaration that Christ is his Son.
The blood takes us to the cross – love proven, not promised.
And the Spirit keeps that same love alive – the ongoing proof that what Jesus started hasn’t finished.
These three tell one story: God is alive, real and right here.
It’s easy to let faith become a concept to manage rather than a life to live. We quote it, discuss it, explain it and organise it. But John doesn’t write about faith in a theoretical sense. He brings us back to the pulse of it: whoever has the Son has life. Not doctrine. Not theory. Not a rulebook. Not duty. Life. The kind that breathes, moves and changes things.
So, what does this look like for me on a Friday morning in 2026? It’s courage when fear shouts louder. It’s forgiveness when I’d rather prove my point. It’s integrity when convenience would be easier. It’s the quiet defiance of believing Jesus isn’t just the topic of my prayers, but the oxygen in my lungs.
This passage doesn’t ask us to add more religion to our week or to get busier for God. It asks if Christ’s life is pulsing through ours, shaping how we think, how we love and how we show up. Today’s passage calls us – you and me – to be alive in Christ.
Jesus, you are life itself. Wake me from autopilot. Pull my faith out of theory and into motion. Amen.
Jane is a former Lutheran school principal and now serves as Governance Leadership Director for Lutheran Education SA, NT & WA. Jane has a keen interest in psychology, enjoys hiking and loves learning about and trying new things.
Are you trying to revive what God has released?
by Jane Mueller
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Therefore we were buried with him by baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, so we also might walk in newness of life (Romans 6:4).
Read Romans 6:3–11
Some of us are lugging around stories we were never meant to keep alive.
Old habits, old fears, old versions of ourselves – things God has released in Christ. We polish them, defend them, justify them and even call them ‘just how I am’. But resurrection life doesn’t come by dragging the past into the present. It comes by letting the past stay finished.
Paul doesn’t mince words in today’s reading. Baptism is hardly a sentimental symbol. It shows us what God is like – decisive, cleansing and lifegiving. When water is poured over us, it declares that the old ways of living no longer have control. The same God who meets us in that water continues meeting us every day, calling us out of old patterns and into new life.
So why do we keep trying to revive what God has released? Why do we rehearse the same resentments, recycle the same narratives and keep identifying with the same wounds? The perfectionist who can’t stop striving, the leader who keeps replaying old failures, the friend who keeps apologising for taking up space, the parent who still believes they’re not enough? Maybe it’s because the old life is familiar. And sometimes, ‘familiar’ feels safer than ‘free’.
But resurrection doesn’t happen in comfort zones. You can’t keep one foot in the past and one in grace. Paul says, ‘Consider yourselves dead to sin and alive to God.’ That’s an active choice – daily, sometimes hourly.
So maybe it’s time to ask: What’s still taking up oxygen in my soul that should’ve been surrendered by now? What part of me keeps trying to reclaim a life that’s already been transformed?
Stop propping up the old storyline. Step fully into the new one.
Stop trying to become someone new. Start living like the new creation you already are.
And if no-one’s ever spoken this over you, let it land now: the old you is finished. The new you is alive. Walk in it, breathe from it, own it, live it, shine through it.
God of resurrection, expose parts of me still clinging to what you’ve released. Give me the courage to stop rehearsing the things you’ve already finished, and to rise – fully and freely – into the life you’ve given me. Amen.
Jane is a former Lutheran school principal and now serves as Governance Leadership Director for Lutheran Education SA, NT & WA. Jane has a keen interest in psychology, enjoys hiking and loves learning about and trying new things.
The day the Spirit hit ‘go’
by Jane Mueller
Click here to download your printable verse to carry with you today.
Peter said to them, ‘Repent and be baptised every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ so that your sins may be forgiven, and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit’ (Acts 2:38).
Read Acts 2:36–42
Pentecost is when the Holy Spirit turned a local message into a global one. Different people, different accents, different dialects, one message: Jesus is alive. The Holy Spirit disassembled arguably the biggest obstacle to global mission – the language barrier – by translating the gospel into the mother tongue of people from every nation under heaven. Pentecost shows that God doesn’t wait for us to work our way toward him; he meets us where we are. He meets us in our own language, our own culture and our own generation.
And, for that reason, maybe the Pentecost account needs a ‘remix’ to remind us that when God speaks fluent ‘human’, he speaks to all generations.
The Pentecost remix: Generation Alpha dialect
Fast-forward 50 days from Passover. Jerusalem’s stacked with pilgrims and passports from every corner – accents everywhere. Then boom: the disciples start spitting truth in every language. Not subtitles – Spirit-titles.
Crowds freeze mid-conversation like, ‘Hold up – how are these Galileans speaking my hometown lingo?’ Peter rolls up and goes, ‘Chill, this isn’t energy-drink mania – the Spirit pressed “go”, that’s all.’ Then he drops the gospel bomb: Jesus is alive. (Peter’s talking about the J-Man – the GOATed teacher who dropped parables like mixtapes, fed 5,000 with leftovers, and told sickness to sit down.) Peter drops the sequel: the main character’s alive, the Holy One’s still running the show. Death got debugged. Forgiveness is legit, and the Spirit’s for the global group chat.
The crowd is in meltdown, like, ‘Bruh, what even is step two? Do we just download forgiveness?’
Peter hits them with the classic mic drop: ‘Μετανοήσατε, καὶ βαπτισθήτω.’
Luther remixed it for his gen: ‘Tut Buße und lasst euch taufen.’
Vintage translators nerfed it to: ‘Repent and be baptised.’
Gen Alpha translation: ‘Change lanes, turn around, get grounded and glowed up.’
The Spirit goes full send – holy fire, zero chill. Heaven’s update drops, tongues are trending, and hope is on repeat. It’s a full-on grace quake – fear collapses, hearts reboot, and mercy shakes the system. Ordinary people walk like miracles because heaven’s already gone live.
That’s Pentecost: God turning human confusion into connection, and chaos into community.
The Spirit speaks our language today – through culture, creativity and even our clumsy words. We don’t need a polished speech or perfect prayers because God works through our real talk, our half-formed thoughts, our casual slang and our misunderstood jargon. He takes our normal, everyday voice – regardless of our generational dialect – and translates our words into living hope.
Holy Spirit, translate my hesitation into faith, my distraction into focus and my words into worship. Let your fire burn bright – in me, in your church and in the world. Amen.
Jane is a former Lutheran school principal and now serves as Governance Leadership Director for Lutheran Education SA, NT & WA. Jane has a keen interest in psychology, enjoys hiking and loves learning about and trying new things.