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.
Great invitation
by Greg Fowler
Click here to download your printable verse to carry with you today.
Then the master told his servant, ‘Go out to the roads and country lanes and compel them to come in, so that my house will be full’ (Luke 14:23).
Read Luke 14:15–23
I love receiving invitations to special events. In the electronic age, it’s delightful to get a paper invitation in an envelope. It says that the event is special and my attendance means something.
In the Parable of the Great Banquet, Jesus tells of the greatest invitation. A master prepares a lavish feast, but the originally invited guests make a series of trivial excuses – a new field, some oxen, a recent marriage. Rather than cancelling the celebration, the master’s response is breathtakingly expansive. He first sends his servant into the streets to bring in the poor and broken, and then issues a final, urgent command: ‘Go out to the roads and country lanes and compel them to come in, so that my house will be full’ (Luke 14:23).
This verse reveals the relentless, pursuing nature of God’s grace. The ‘roads and country lanes’ represent the margins of society, those who feel entirely outside the boundaries of religious or social acceptance. The master’s instruction to ‘compel’ them is striking. The original writer does not mean physical coercion or force, but rather a passionate, persuasive urgency. It is the kind of love that refuses to take ‘I’m not good enough’ or ‘I don’t belong’ for an answer.
God’s heart is not satisfied with a partially empty banquet hall. He desires a full house. The gospel is not merely a passive, polite offer; it is an active, relentless pursuit. The king of the universe is passionately committed to ensuring that every seat at his table is occupied by those who will experience his lavish, transforming grace.
God is calling us to the roads and country lanes of our own lives. Who is the coworker who feels like an outsider? Or the neighbour going through a silent crisis? The estranged family member who believes they have blown their chance at redemption? We testify to the grace that lovingly, persistently and warmly invites them to come in. Praise God for his relentless grace.
Lord, give me your heart for the lost and the hesitant. Forgive my comfort and complacency. Make me a bold, persuasive agent of your grace, actively inviting others to the abundant feast of your love, so that your house may be full. Amen.
Pastor Greg lives in beautiful Redland Bay with his wife, Connie, where they enjoy the beaches, weather and outdoor lifestyle of south Brisbane. He serves as the college pastor at Faith Lutheran College, Redlands.
Generosity
by Greg Fowler
Click here to download your printable verse to carry with you today.
For all those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted (Luke 14:11).
Read Luke 14:7–14
I can’t help but feel this parable is more relevant today than ever. Jesus identifies a familiar human tendency at a Pharisee’s dinner party: people jockeying for the places of honour. Is this all that different to judging each other by how many social media views we get? In a culture deeply obsessed with status, reputation and public recognition, securing the best seat was a primary way to validate one’s self-worth. Jesus, however, interrupts this social climbing with a radical, counter-cultural invitation.
He advises his listeners to intentionally choose the lowest place. This is not a manipulative, reverse-psychology strategy to get promoted, but a profound reflection of a genuinely humble heart. Jesus reveals the divine economy of honour: ‘For all those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.’
The world’s ladder to success is built on self-promotion, networking and demanding recognition. But in the kingdom of God, the pathway to true honour is paved with humility. When we stop fighting for the spotlight and willingly serve, we align ourselves with the heart of Christ, who ‘made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant’ (Philippians 2:7). God is the ultimate host, and he reserves the highest places of honour for those who do not demand them.
Today, we face countless subtle opportunities to ‘exalt ourselves’. It happens when we fish for compliments, take undue credit for a team’s success at work or curate a flawless, exaggerated image of our lives on social media. It happens when we feel bitter because our actions go unnoticed.
Jesus tells us to fear not. Simply serve where there is need. Our God sees us and will elevate us at the time that is right for the kingdom. Praise God for his wisdom and timing.
Lord Jesus, you are the ultimate example of humility, leaving heaven’s glory to serve us. Forgive my constant striving for human recognition and my fear of being overlooked. Give me the grace to serve joyfully, trusting that you see me, you value me, and in your perfect timing, you will lift me up. Amen.
Pastor Greg lives in beautiful Redland Bay with his wife, Connie, where they enjoy the beaches, weather and outdoor lifestyle of south Brisbane. He serves as the college pastor at Faith Lutheran College, Redlands.
Gentle power
by Greg Fowler
Click here to download your printable verse to carry with you today.
Say to Daughter Zion, ‘See, your king comes to you, gentle and riding on a donkey, and on a colt, the foal of a donkey’ (Matthew 21:5).
Read Matthew 21:1–9
Just a few days before his arrest and crucifixion, Jesus orchestrates a deliberate, prophetic entrance into Jerusalem. The crowds, buzzing with Messianic expectation, anticipated a political liberator riding a mighty warhorse to violently overthrow Roman rule. Instead, Jesus arrives riding a lowly donkey and a colt, perfectly fulfilling Zechariah’s ancient prophecy of a gentle, peace-bringing king. This was not a display of earthly, coercive power, but a profound, countercultural revelation of divine humility and grace.
The crowd’s response to this humble king was immediate and extravagant. They cut branches from the trees, spread their own cloaks on the dusty road and shouted, ‘Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!’ In first-century culture, laying down a cloak was an act of deep reverence and total submission. It was the ultimate way to honour a king, essentially rolling out a red carpet of personal sacrifice and vulnerability. They were publicly acknowledging his absolute lordship over their lives and their city.
Yet, how is our welcome? Do we want his blessings without his lordship? A true relationship with Jesus requires us to do what that ancient crowd did: lay down our ‘cloaks’. This means surrendering our pride, our ill-founded self-belief, our carefully guarded future plans and our obsession with how others see us at the feet of the humble king.
What ‘cloak’ are we holding onto too tightly? Is it our career trajectory, a strained family relationship, our financial security or a hidden habit? A deep grace-filled relationship with Jesus is not merely shouting, ‘Hosanna’; it is the daily, practical and sometimes painful act of laying down our personal rights and preferences to make way for Jesus. Martin Luther called this daily returning to our baptism. It starts with God’s adoption, and we return to his gentle, restorative grace.
Jesus, you came not to be served, but to serve, riding in humility to secure our salvation. Forgive me for the times I have tried to dictate the terms of your rule in my life. Today, I return to my baptism. I acknowledge your grace, which gives me forgiveness, identity and life. Hosanna in the highest! Amen.
Pastor Greg lives in beautiful Redland Bay with his wife, Connie, where they enjoy the beaches, weather and outdoor lifestyle of south Brisbane. He serves as the college pastor at Faith Lutheran College, Redlands.