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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.
This isn’t smelling great!
by Kathy Matuschka
Click here to download your printable verse to carry with you today.
He replied, ‘Sir, let it alone for one more year, until I dig around it and put manure on it’ (Luke 13:8).
Read Luke 13:6–9
So far this week, a vineyard has featured in every Bible reading. The vineyard has had a versatile role, covering the thriller (bad vineyard tenants), romance (Song of Solomon) and historical (return of the exiles from captivity) genres. Today, the vineyard plays a supporting role, with a fig tree taking centre stage in a parable.
The fig tree is planted in a vineyard. While it offers shade for the workers, it fails to produce fruit for the owner, who instructs his worker to cut it down. The worker begs for one more chance: he will dig around it and apply fertiliser. Then, if it still doesn’t fruit, they’ll cut it down.
The story’s context is that Jesus has just been teaching about the end times. Reflecting on recent tragedies, he assures his listeners that the people who died were not worse sinners than anyone else. Jesus challenges them to remember that death comes to everyone, and so they should repent (learn to see things God’s way) while they still can.
Like the vineyard worker, God is patient and merciful, but there is a hard deadline for them – and for us. The deadline is our common humanity: we all die.
Life and death are unpredictable. Death often comes suddenly. The drama of the fig tree is left in suspense: Will the tree bear fruit, or is it in its final year?
As Christians, we live with this suspense. We are not always confident about our fruitfulness. Sometimes God digs around our base, which leads us to feel wobbly and uncertain. Sometimes God allows something in our lives that doesn’t smell like it would be good for us (like fertiliser)!
Jesus urges us to repent. As individuals and communities, God’s Spirit calls us to see things in a way we haven’t before. So that we can produce fruit that we never imagined we could.
Dear God, thank you for your patience and mercy. Thank you for what you are doing in my heart right now. Please help me to bear good fruit. Amen.
Kathy is learning to give up her struggle to make sense of God and God’s world, and instead rest in the mystery of love that holds her each day.
Settled
by Kathy Matuschka
Click here to download your printable verse to carry with you today.
I will plant them upon their land, and they shall never again be plucked up out of the land that I have given them, says the Lord your God (Amos 9:15).
Read Amos 9:13–15
Some of my ancestors settled in South Australia’s Barossa Valley – which is known for vineyards and winemaking – after they emigrated from what is now Germany. Unfortunately, the place they chose to settle, Hoffnungsthal (Valley of Hope), flooded, and so they moved elsewhere and started again. Generations later, my parents moved into the Barossa, so I grew up back where our families began their time in Australia.
The vineyards in today’s texts are described as fruitful, just as in the readings we heard yesterday and the day before. After all, a vineyard’s purpose is to produce grapes.
Today’s vineyards are so productive that the reapers are said to overtake the sowers – obviously an exaggeration intended to highlight the vineyards’ fruitfulness and the delight this brings.
But ultimately, there is something more wondrous than the vineyard’s productivity: its location. This vineyard is back home, in Israel! It fulfils Yahweh’s promise through the prophet Amos that although the Hebrew people will be taken into exile in a foreign land, they will later return. Both the people and their vineyards will be planted in their own land again.
Settled.
I grew up in a time of rich harvest for my denomination. As the daughter of Lutheran teachers, I witnessed the growth of Lutheran schools and the effort it took to achieve this growth! I viewed the mission harvest God gave us as normal because I had never known anything different. I felt settled.
Things have changed in more recent decades, and I have felt unsettled; I’m not sure where we are as a church now, and what the future might hold. My questions are being answered in the increasing number of stories of congregation members turning up to share God’s love in practical ways with new generations. Have you noticed it, too?
Loving Creator, because your dear Son Jesus rose from death, I am settled in you – forever. Through the power of your Spirit, I praise and thank you – forever. Amen.
Kathy is learning to give up her struggle to make sense of God and God’s world, and instead rest in the mystery of love that holds her each day.
What are the names of your little foxes?
by Kathy Matuschka
Click here to download your printable verse to carry with you today.
The fig tree puts forth its figs, and the vines are in blossom; they give forth fragrance. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away (Song of Solomon 2:13).
Read Song of Solomon 2:10–15
Do you have some favourite places in nature? Do you recall happy memories of sharing special places with loved ones?
A vineyard provides the setting for our reading, as it did yesterday. But today, rather than being an object of power and control, this vineyard is an intimate place, highlighting the freshness and delight of new love.
When our hearts connect with another (whether romantically or platonically), the connection we feel seems enhanced by being in the beauty and simplicity of God’s creation. The author of our text today expresses their extreme delight in the fine spring weather, the appearance of flowers, the cooing of doves, the fruit of the fig trees and the blossoming of the vines. For those in love, it seems no one else has ever beheld the beauty of the earth in the way that they do!
The author goes on to speak about little foxes – little threats to the bliss God offers us within our human relationships. Left to grow, these ‘foxes’ can damage and even destroy our ability to connect with one another – even with those in whom we once delighted!
There are so many little foxes, but I’ll name a few. There is perfectionism: sometimes we get so carried away with creating a perfect experience that we forget to rest into what God has so abundantly provided without our assistance.
Perfectionism can be related to inadequacy: the little voice that tells us we are not enough as we are. It urges us to produce more and achieve more.
Then there are little foxes that cause division, like misunderstanding, judgement, unforgiveness and bitterness. Those are busy little foxes!
Do you know the names of your little foxes?
Loving God, you made me to enjoy relationship with you, others and myself. By your Spirit, please release me from the power of the little foxes that limit and harm those relationships in my life. In Jesus’ name, we pray. Amen.