Photo by...Photo by Louise Sacré on Unsplash
I'm sharing this journal entry from one of our sheep / shepherds for your encouragement and invite you to share your stories to keep us connected David
Thursday April 2, 2020: A journal entry:
JESUS WEPT.
A Morning mist of low cloud wrapped soft around the hills.
I read John 6 and tried to ponder on Jesus the living bread. But the mist beckoned and drew me outside, quickly enfolding me in its clammy embrace.
There was no pausing to choose direction. I headed straight up the hill blanketed in the foggy stillness, only birdcall echoing the inner certainty – she’s coming to pray.
Pray up the hill. I haven’t prayed up there for a while. I’ve prayed. But not there on God’s hill, my place of retreat.
At the summit, as cloud drifted and lifted, it was my heart that rained out its anguished plea, the cry for help with COVID19: LORD HEAR OUR PRAYER. Help us Jesus.
That was it. No wordy waffle. I perched on the rim of the damp bench, poised in grief and need; heart, mind and spirit turned to God, “Yet still do I praise you Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Living God.”
A lull then settled over me, like a mute button had been pressed to hush the turmoil of my distressed thoughts and wretched emotions concerning the plight of the world’s people. Wait. Be quiet!
Jesus wept. The words from last Sunday’s reading came to mind loud and clear.
33 When Jesus saw her crying, and the Judaeans who had come with her crying, he was deeply stirred in his spirit, and very troubled. 34 ‘Where have you laid him?’ he asked. ‘Master,’ they said, ‘come and see.’ 35 Jesus burst into tears. (John 11:33-35 NTE)
I too burst into tears, and as I wept, there at the top of the hill, I knew he was weeping with me. Weeping with all the world. Weeping for us all.
Turn to me. And I, turning, vision all awash, could see clearly, he was there. Feed my sheep. To this I shook my head, and thought, I’m no pastor. You are a minister of my word. Therefore, speak my word to others. Speak my word to one another. And suddenly understanding dawned. “You aren’t just saying this to me, are you? It’s your call to all of us: Feed your sheep. The responsibility is ours collectively.” And I pictured the scattered sheep, isolated from one another but belonging together and needing creative new ways of being church and speaking grace and hope to one another and others.
I plunged, then, down the hill, not following the worn paths but winding down the steeper slope, weaving through knee high weeds, around rocky mounds and patches of slippery flattened grass, to emerge at the wider base track.
Now is the time to forge new paths. Jesus is still the Way, the “base track” of my faith remains the same. It’s the network of familiar paths that represent how we have lived out our faith, that have fallen away, not God’s word or his kingdom, or his love.
I am thankful for this love that comes to us where we are: scattered sheep weeping in the mist of uncertainty. I’m thankful that Jesus wept and that his way isn’t set in stone. That he comes and calls us to discover a new and living way, today and tomorrow and the next day. Hallelujah! This is a new day! And the Jesus who weeps with us in our distress will renew us and lead us on beyond COVID19.
JESUS WEPT.
The autumn sun filtered a pale ray through the drifting grey. A reminder that the God who weeps, also sheds light as well as tears.
Why? Oh, why?
by Jonathan Krause
Click here to download your printable verse to carry with you today.
But he said, ‘Why should my lord be so kind to me?’ (Genesis 33:15b)
Read Genesis 33:1–16
You likely have more Bible-smarts than me, so I’ll leave it to you to explore the backstory of today’s reading.
Just make sure you enjoy the wonderful story of forgiveness, reconciliation and healing. While it’s not exactly a classic ‘happy ending’, it’s still encouraging to see the coming together that allows two brothers to carry on with their own individual life journeys with a sense of peace. They can move forward.
The words that jumped out to me were Jacob asking, ‘Why should my lord be so kind to me?’
Do you ever find yourself asking the same question? But about God’s love for you?
For me, I look at myself and see all my flaws and all the times I have fallen short, done wrong, messed up and think: How could God possibly ‘be so kind to me’? How could I be in any way worthy of forgiveness, acceptance and love?
That’s such a ‘human’ thing to feel. You and I are used to having to earn what we receive, to pay a price for what we get. In fact, if you’re anything like me, you’re wary of anything that looks too good to be true. Because usually it is.
Yet again, I find myself trying to shrink God down to fit the limited scope of my human understanding. And experience.
Surely no one could love me that much.
How do you and I get past this?
When you look at Jacob, he approached Esau warily. Nervously. Uncertain of what would happen. (I counted at least six acts of humility in just these few verses.)
That’s what I feel I should do when I approach God seeking forgiveness.
Head bowed. Down to the ground. Afraid to look up.
Yet if I only ever look down, I miss seeing the smiling face of forgiveness. The love that overflows in joy.
For Jacob and Esau, it was tears, embrace, kisses – intimate physical expressions of love, prepared to let go of the past and to move forward. What is it for you and me?
That’s the challenge I take away from today’s reading, and why I pray that you might feel, in a special way today, God’s answer to the question we ask of him, ‘Why should my Lord be so kind to me?’
Lord, I come to you in wonder that you could love me, forgive me and welcome me with hugs and kisses. Help me reflect that joy to each person you place before me in the hours that remain today. Amen.
Jonathan describes himself as a ‘happy husband, proud dad and grandad, ALWS worker and gracious Magpie fan’.
Quite a bargain
by Jonathan Krause
Click here to download your printable verse to carry with you today.
Then he said, ‘Oh, do not let my lord be angry if I speak just once more’ (Genesis 18:32a).
Read Genesis 18:20–32
I am hopeless at bargaining. When I see a price on a market stall, I am too shy to suggest anything less. For me, it’s easier to walk away having paid more than the item was worth, or what the seller was willing to accept, than to bargain.
So, when I read about Abraham bargaining with God about the fate of the city of Sodom, I am shocked – at several levels.
Now, I am in no way a theological person, so my reflections are those of a blundering human being drawing what I can from what I read. So, please forgive me if I get things wrong.
But this reading stumps me a bit.
First up, part of me thinks the people of Sodom deserve whatever they get. They are ‘wicked’, not only doing all the ‘normal’ sins we associate with Sodom and Gomorrah, but some commentators suggest oppressing the poor and perpetrating injustice as well.
Second, and even stronger, how can a mere human being bargain with/argue with/pester God? Isn’t that utterly disrespectful?
When I think about it a bit more, though, and put myself in the place of the people of Sodom, knowing that just like them I continually fail and fall short of what God wants me to be, I find myself (literally) thanking God that Jesus – just like Abraham did for the people of Sodom – steps in for me, pleads for me, pays with his life for me.
Then I look at Abraham, and at myself, and wonder where my courage is to plead with God. After all, Jesus promises, ‘Ask and you will receive.’
It’s like I’ve shrunk God down to a size I can understand, which leaves me missing out on all the richness that a real relationship with God offers. Yes, I can talk honestly and bluntly and, like Abraham, perhaps even outrageously, to God. I can keep coming back (just like a widow banging on her neighbour’s door for a loaf of bread), just like Gideon.
So, for me, this event is a wake-up call and challenge to be bolder in my conversations with God, unafraid to be persistent, and confident in God’s infinite mercy, love and patience with me.
That’s quite a bargain I’ve received.
Lord, help me to talk with you honestly, openly, persistently and strongly. Strengthen my trust, so I can be blessed with all you offer. Amen.
Jonathan describes himself as a ‘happy husband, proud dad and grandad, ALWS worker and anxious Magpie fan’.
Forgive. Forget. Forever?
by Jonathan Krause
Click here to download your printable verse to carry with you today.
‘Should you not have had mercy on your fellow slave, as I had mercy on you?’ (Matthew 18:33).
Read Matthew 18:21–35
So, this forgiveness thing?
Thinking about verses like today’s reading, I straight away see how much work I need to do to forgive others. Over and over.
And, even harder, to forget and move forward.
Well-meaning friends tell us that forgiving helps free us from the burden of whatever was done against us. Indeed, John Hopkins Medicine states:
Studies have found that the act of forgiveness can reap huge rewards for your health, lowering the risk of heart attack; improving cholesterol levels and sleep; and reducing pain, blood pressure, and levels of anxiety, depression and stress.
I expect all that’s right. But you know what I find even harder than forgiving, and even forgetting? Accepting forgiveness.
Yes, I know that through the sacrifice of Jesus, my sins are forgiven and washed away (Isaiah 1:18) … but surely they can’t be forgotten?
For me, I can’t shake the fear that our Father in Heaven is keeping track of all the times I have let him down, turned away, done wrong. Yes, you and I may be forgiven, but isn’t there always the threat that our ‘forgiven’ sin is still lurking there – ready to be dragged out again and used against us the next time we fail and fall?
That’s where Hebrews 10:17 clubs me over the head and demands I re-read today’s Bible verses in this certainty: ‘I will remember their sins and their lawless deeds no more.’
That’s forever. That’s me set free.
God is not holding the stain of my sin against me. Instead, I’m set free to give that same gift of forgiveness and grace to those who wrong me.
Whether it’s seven times, or seventy-seven times, or seventy times seven times.
What a blessing to have so many chances to model the amazing blessing of God’s love, expressed in forgiveness, to those around me.
Forgive. Forget. Forever.
Lord, thank you for forgiving me, even when I fall over and over again. Thank you for your amazing grace that ‘forgets’ my failings. Forever. Now, help me do the same for those who may fail me, so they can see the light of your love in my life. Amen.
Jonathan describes himself as a ‘happy husband, proud dad and grandad, ALWS worker and proud Magpie fan’.