by Rachael Stelzer
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Read Luke 5:1–11
Peter and his brother and friends had been fishing all night. And they had caught nothing all night. These simple men had not even caught enough fish to feed their families, much less enough to sell to make a profit.
And now this stranger, this itinerant preacher, was telling them to try again on the other side of the boat. It beggared all common sense. What did he know about fishing?
And yet, something about the way he spoke drew Peter in. There was something about him. And Peter figured he had nothing to lose. So, he talked the others into trying again.
And suddenly, they reeled in a catch like they had never seen before. So many fish that they were nearly swamped! They called for reinforcements from the other boat, and both almost sank under the weight of the fish!
And Peter knew without a doubt that something more than an abundant catch was being provided here. Peter recognised the power at work in this man. And his own imperfection. And the fear of God moved him to speak.
‘Go away from me, Lord; I am a sinful man!’
But the stranger did not turn away. Instead, he calmly said, with a twinkle in his eye, ‘Don’t be afraid. From now on, you will be catching people.’
And Peter was hooked from that moment.
Dear Lord, when we recognise the abundance you bring into our lives and communities, we are hooked. May our lives tell the story of your welcome, your leading and your rich love so that others will also be attracted to the abundant life you offer. Amen.
Rachael Stelzer is Primary Head of Faith and Spirituality at Coomera Anglican College near Brisbane. She is a member of Our Saviour Lutheran Church in Rochedale.
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.