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.
Light at the water’s edge
by Anastasia Kim
Click here to download your printable verse to carry with you today.
The people who sat in darkness have seen a great light (Matthew 4:16a).
Read Matthew 4:12–23
Jesus begins his public ministry in a place many had learned to overlook. After his baptism and time of testing, he goes to Galilee. Not to the religious centre, not to the seat of power, but to a region shaped by ordinary lives and quiet struggle. Matthew tells us this choice matters. What happens in Galilee is the fulfilment of God’s promise. Light comes precisely where darkness has lingered the longest.
I have learnt that my own prayer often begins in ordinary places as well. When I prepare Scripture or seek stillness, I find myself drawn to parks, paths near water and environments where movement slows. I did not always love water. For a long time, I preferred mountains and heights, but living near a lake has taught me something new. Water invites waiting. It reflects light gently. It creates space for prayer without demanding words.
It is along the water’s edge that Jesus calls his first disciples. Fishermen at work, hands busy with nets, lives grounded in daily responsibility. Jesus does not offer them a plan or a lesson. He offers himself. ‘Follow me.’ And they go. Discipleship begins not with understanding everything, but with trusting enough to take the next step.
Matthew places this moment before the Sermon on the Mount for a reason. Before Jesus teaches, he gathers. Before instruction, there is invitation. Before words, there is light. We are first brought out of the shadows and into relationships, and only then shaped by teaching.
This is still how Jesus comes to us. He meets us where we are, in familiar places, in unremarkable moments. He does not wait for clarity or readiness. He brings light and calls us to walk with him, one step at a time.
Lord Jesus Christ, Light of the World, shine upon our day. Call us to follow you and lead us gently into your way. Amen.
Anastasia Kim lives in Brisbane and serves as an aged-care chaplain. She holds a Bachelor of Theology from the University of Divinity and is currently undertaking a Master of Theology at Australian Lutheran College. Her ministry and studies are shaped by a commitment to pastoral care.
Your will
by Reid Matthias
Click here to download your printable verse to carry with you today.
Yet it was the Lord’s will to crush him and cause him to suffer (Isaiah 53:10a).
Read Isaiah 53:6–10
Chapter 53 is the most often quoted prophecy as evidence that Jesus was the chosen Messiah. From the first verse to the last, Christians throughout history have pointed to all these things that came to fruition in Jesus’s life, passion, death and resurrection.
I must have read this text a dozen times before, but it’s never hit me how difficult this was for the Father. To have one’s only child burdened with all the guilt of history and the future … Why, if this happened in contemporary times, if blame were placed on my innocent child, I, as a father, would be marching straight up to the real culprits and giving them a piece of my mind.
In this chapter, though, not only is Jesus silent about his innocence (verse 7), but it seems as if the Father purposely did this.
‘It was the Lord’s will to crush him and cause him to suffer …’
Countless times, students have asked me this question: ‘Why would an all-loving God do something so incredibly un-loving?’
Perhaps this is the epitome of the difference between human thinking and the eternal perspective of God. It was because he was all-loving for us, his children, that he chose for his Son to be crushed and to suffer. In doing this, in leaving himself open to human finger-pointing and questioning, God took all the world’s sin and destroyed it in one, horrifically beautiful and self-sacrificial act.
Then the question arises: If God’s will can be for Jesus to suffer, is it God’s will for me to suffer? Is suffering a result of God’s wrath? Or is suffering natural to earthly life for which the only antidote is the blood of his Son, Jesus?
I believe that the suffering we encounter in this lifetime, though not willed by God, is endured by God with us through Jesus. That was the point of naming Jesus ‘Emmanuel’. This means that ‘God is with us’ through every moment of life, and by believing in his Son, Jesus, we are promised eternal life, free from that earthly suffering.
Praise God for his Son Jesus.
Heavenly Father, God with us, thank you for your willingness to save us. Through Jesus’ sacrifice, I am assured that even in my own pain and suffering, you will be with me. 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
Stronghold
by Reid Matthias
Click here to download your printable verse to carry with you today.
The Lord is my light and my salvation – whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life – of whom shall I be afraid? (Psalm 27:1)
Read Psalm 27:1,4–9
Where is your stronghold?
I’m not talking about your home, your castle or the house in which you keep your belongings, but the place you go to feel safe from fear.
In our confounding 21st century, with the landscape of digital fortresses being used as ‘refuges’, we encounter a world that seems safe in the escape; however, all the monsters remain on the inside.
Whereas, in our psalm for today, David writes about the stronghold that keeps him secure. It’s not his castle or his palace. It’s the temple, which, for him, is the place of God’s presence. It is there in the temple, in the day of trouble, he will be kept safe and be set high upon a rock.
Set upon a Rock.
Hmm.
Not long ago, my wife and I went to Girraween National Park in southern Queensland. One of the primary reasons we went was to hike to the top of a spectacular rock called the Pyramid. For someone afraid of heights, the Pyramid would not be a first preference. Getting to the top along bolted chains, clambering up and over rocks, pulling oneself up to the very top – these things make arrival on top of the rock difficult.
But once there, as you gaze out over some of the most beautiful land in Australia, you get a true sense that there is nothing in the world that can hurt you. No sounds. No pressures. No news. Not that the Pyramid is the temple where we find God, but it symbolises a kind of place where we feel his majesty and power.
Perhaps this was, in part, what David was feeling about the temple. Like his, the journey is challenging and can be fraught with difficulty, but when we find ourselves on top of the rock, all fears melt away. It’s there that we are safe. It is there that we see the face of God – the Rock, which is Jesus.
Heavenly Father, bring me to the Rock that is your Son, Jesus the Saviour. Help me to put my trust in him. Please take my fears away. 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