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Jesus wept

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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.

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Beware of practising your righteousness before other people in order to be seen by them (Matthew 6:1a).

Read Matthew 6:1–6,16–21

Jesus’ warning cuts against a deeply religious instinct that is revealed across all time and cultures: the desire for visible righteousness. Almsgiving, prayer and fasting are not condemned here; they are assumed. What is exposed is the heart’s longing to be seen, measured and approved. This is the old Adam at work – using even good works as currency for self-justification.

Jesus names the danger plainly: righteousness practised to be seen already has its reward. Human praise may come, but nothing more is promised. This is law, not advice. It unmasks a false trust – confidence in recognition, reputation or religious performance. The hypocrite, Jesus says, does not fail because of weak discipline, but because of misplaced faith.

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The Lord’s Prayer, placed at the heart of this section, reinforces this. We do not pray to inform God or impress others, but to receive: daily bread, forgiveness and deliverance. Prayer is not a work offered upward, but an open hand turned toward heaven.

Jesus then broadens the warning: treasures reveal trusts. What we store up, protect and display discloses where our heart rests. Earthly treasure is vulnerable – subject to decay and theft. Heavenly treasure is secure because it is given, not earned, and kept by God himself. Here again, the theology of the cross prevails: what is hidden with God is more real than what shines before others.

This passage does not abolish good works; it rescues them. Freed from the need to justify ourselves, we can give, pray and fast – not to be seen, but because we are already seen by the Father who knows our need and delights to give.

Dear Father, we thank you that you can see through all our false pretences and our self-righteousness. We thank you that you see through to the heart, from which all unclean things spring, and there you meet us with mercy. Grant that we may receive your mercy with thanksgiving and open arms this day. Amen.

Noel is a semi-retired Lutheran pastor, writer, teacher and professional supervisor. He is married to Kirsten, a medical doctor, and they have three children and nine grandchildren. They also have two cats.

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by Noel Due

Click here to download your printable verse to carry with you today.

So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day (2 Corinthians 4:16).

Read 2 Corinthians 4:13 – 5:1

Paul writes as one who knows fragility firsthand. His confidence is not theoretical optimism, but faith forged in suffering. The Christian life, as Paul describes it, is lived under a double truth: decay is real, and renewal is real – but they operate on different planes. We must not confuse them.

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Thus, Paul teaches the church how not to lose heart: not by denying weakness, but by locating life where God has promised it – in Christ, hidden now, revealed in glory. Until then, renewal continues quietly, faithfully, day by day.

Dear Father, this world is not yet heaven, and we cannot make it so. Forgive our feeble attempts to make heaven on earth by securing ourselves and our futures. Root deeply in us the hope of eternal life, seen and guaranteed in the resurrection of Jesus, who has raised us up with him so that where he is, we may be also. Amen.

Noel is a semi-retired Lutheran pastor, writer, teacher and professional supervisor. He is married to Kirsten, a medical doctor, and they have three children and nine grandchildren. They also have two cats.

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Click here to download your printable verse to carry with you today.

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The first word spoken is restraint: ‘Do not come near.’ God is holy, utterly other. Lutheran theology insists upon this seriousness of God’s holiness, not as moral improvement, but as judgement. The command to remove sandals is not merely a ritual nicety; it is an exposure. Moses stands on holy ground not because he has made it holy, but because God has chosen to be present there. Holiness is not managed. It is given.

Yet this same holy God immediately reveals himself in mercy. He names himself as the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob – the God who makes promises and keeps them across generations. He is the Lord who remembers his promises. Moses hides his face, rightly fearing death before such holiness. And yet God speaks again – not condemnation, but compassion: ‘I have surely seen … I have heard … I know their sufferings.’

The burning bush confronts Moses with the law: God is holy; Moses is not. Fear is the proper response. But the gospel follows swiftly: God sees affliction and comes down to deliver. Redemption does not arise from Israel’s faithfulness or Moses’ readiness. It arises from God’s gracious initiative.

The bush that burns without being consumed points forward. God will later dwell with his people in fire and cloud (via the Tabernacle), and ultimately in flesh, bearing judgement without being destroyed, so that his people might live.

The God who reveals himself in holiness is the same God who hears your cries. Holy ground, then, is wherever God speaks mercy to sinners. And like Moses, we are called not first to understand, but to trust the One who comes down to save.

Dear Father, we thank you for the full revelation of your holiness and mercy in the cross. There, you open to the world your heart and arms, as we are crucified with Christ, only to also rise with him. Thank you for such love, and grant us an overflow of love in return. Amen.

Noel is a semi-retired Lutheran pastor, writer, teacher and professional supervisor. He is married to Kirsten, a medical doctor, and they have three children and nine grandchildren. They also have two cats.

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