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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.
Slow praise
by Jane Mueller
Click here to download your printable verse to carry with you today.
O Lord, how manifold are your works! In wisdom you have made them all; the earth is full of your creatures (Psalm 104:24).
Read Psalm 104:24–34,35b
Today is World Turtle Day.
It’s one of those observances that feels quietly charming. Turtles don’t rush. They don’t demand attention. They simply move at their own pace: slow, steady and unbothered by the noise around them. They have been doing this for a very long time.
Psalm 104 invites us into that same unhurried posture.
This psalm doesn’t argue for God’s existence or try to prove anything. It simply notices. The psalmist looks at the world – the seas and creatures within them, the cycles of life and breath, the rhythms of work and rest – and responds with awe. Creation is not frantic. It’s ordered and sustained. Held.
Again and again, the psalm returns to one thing: life depends on God’s ongoing care. When God gives breath, creatures live. When God sustains, creation flourishes. Nothing is self-made. Nothing is self-sustaining. And we rejoice knowing that God not only sustains creation now, he also promises its renewal – a future shaped by resurrection, a promise secured for us in Christ.
In a society that rewards speed, efficiency and constant output, Psalm 104 slows us down. It reminds us that wonder takes time. Praise requires attention. Trust grows through noticing what God is already doing.
Even creatures like turtles – ancient, steady and unremarkable by modern standards – bear quiet witness to our Creator, whose wisdom is deeper than our impatience.
To pause and delight in creation is not an abuse of precious time. It is faith. It is choosing to see the world as something sustained by God and worthy of praise, rather than something to be conquered or consumed.
And so, our week of devotions ends where it began: not with control or worldly certainty, but with lives quietly held by our Creator God.
Creator God, slow me down when I rush past wonder and overlook your care. Open my eyes to the beauty around me, my heart to praise and my spirit to trust your sustaining presence. In a world that demands speed and output, remind me again that, along with all creation, 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.
Essential lessons in Vegemite application
by Jane Mueller
Click here to download your printable verse to carry with you today.
Let what you heard from the beginning abide in you (1 John 2:24a).
Read 1 John 2:24–29
It’s taken me years to master the art of Vegemite application.
This is not a skill you acquire in childhood and then forget about. It requires discipline, focus and a surprising amount of self-control. It takes patience, restraint and a willingness to learn from mistakes. Too much Vegemite, and you’ve ruined perfectly good toast. Too little, and you’re left wondering whether you’re even trying. I’ve had seasons of confidence, moments of regret and the occasional identity crisis when I thought I’d finally nailed it, only to discover I’d drifted off course again.
But as a proud Australian, applying Vegemite to toast is an essential life skill. You don’t dabble with Vegemite. You don’t improvise wildly or freestyle your way to success. Vegemite doesn’t reward experimentation. It demands commitment. You learn the basics, you respect them and – crucially – you stick with them.
In today’s reading, John is writing to a community where sticking to the basics is becoming increasingly harder.
New ideas are circulating. New voices are claiming authority. Some teaching sounds impressive, even sophisticated. There’s no pressure to abandon faith altogether, but certainly to adjust it. Tweak it here, update it there. Make it fit more comfortably with what feels new or fashionable.
John’s advice is remarkably simple: ‘Let what you heard from the beginning abide in you.’
Stay. Remain. Stick.
This isn’t fear of change or resistance to growth. John isn’t warning against learning, reflection or being reshaped – he’s cautioning against forgetting Christ himself. Abiding means continually returning to Christ and trusting him to keep doing his work in us. It is not about clinging tightly but trusting that we are already being held.
Abiding takes patience. It means resisting the urge to constantly upgrade, rebrand or improve what was already given as a gift. It means trusting that God – who held us from the beginning – is still enough.
This brings us back to Vegemite. It doesn’t need experimentation or reinventing. Nor does it require upgrading or rebranding. Spread too thin, and it disappears. Tinker too much, and it loses its point. But used as it was intended, it does exactly what it’s meant to do: it nourishes. John’s advice is just as practical: stick with what you heard from the beginning. Stay. Abide. Don’t drift.
Faithful God, when I am tempted to chase what is new, impressive or fashionable, draw me back to the life you give. When I drift, help me return. When I complicate faith, remind me of the grace I first received in Christ. Hold me steady in your love and keep me grounded in 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.
Confidence without control
by Jane Mueller
Click here to download your printable verse to carry with you today.
… for we walk by faith, not by sight (2 Corinthians 5:7).
Read 2 Corinthians 5:1–10
On this day in 1932, Amelia Earhart landed in a field in Northern Ireland, having flown solo and nonstop across the Atlantic. Historians write that she was exhausted, cold and unsure about where she was. Still, she had made it.
Earhart didn’t fly with certainty. She flew with resolve. The weather changed, instruments failed and visibility dropped. The journey carried risk from the moment she took off. Confidence, for her, meant stepping forward anyway.
Paul speaks of a confidence like that.
In 2 Corinthians 5, Paul describes life as fragile, like a tent – temporary and vulnerable. Bodies age, plans unravel and outcomes remain uncertain. Paul knows this firsthand, and yet he says, ‘We are confident’ (verses six and eight).
Confident. Not because life is predictable. Not because the future feels secure. Not because everything can be seen or measured.
Paul’s confidence does not rest in worldly knowledge and strength, or in what he can personally secure or manage. It rests in the one who holds him. He writes, ‘We walk by faith, not by sight.’ Faith is trusting that God is already at work beyond what we can see, even when we cannot forecast how things will unfold. Or, as Philip Yancey wrote in Disappointment with God, ‘Faith means believing in advance what will only make sense in reverse.’
Like Earhart, Paul doesn’t deny risk. Rather, he acknowledges it without being ruled by it. He refuses to let uncertainty have the final word or to let fear speak louder than God’s promises. Confidence, for Paul, is not bravado; it’s keeping going when the risk is real, because he knows his life is already held.
This kind of confidence doesn’t eliminate fear. It carries us through it.
And so, I ask myself: What am I avoiding right now because I’m afraid? Where have I mistaken caution for faithfulness, when it might actually be fear? What decision could I approach today with trust rather than fear, remembering that the outcome does not rest on me?
God of grace, when the path ahead feels unclear, and the outcome isn’t mine to manage, steady me. When I’m weighing decisions, juggling responsibilities or quietly wondering how much energy I have left, remind me that I am not alone. 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.