In my first year of high school, Australia converted to decimal currency and Simon and Garfunkel released the song, “I am a rock”. While everyone in Australia was working together to adjust to the new currency the song spoke of going it alone. “I am a rock. I am an island.”
It’s a sad song about being hurt and withdrawing into isolation in order to avoid any more pain.
We’ve had some experiences of isolation this year and depending on our nature we’ve either enjoyed or hated those times.
Our God is into community. God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit exist in a divine community of love and because we’re made in the image of God we’re also made for community.
The Christian faith in particular and life in general aren’t meant to be solo adventures. Even those with an introverted nature need others. We all need community.
Paul describes the community in terms of a body with many different and varied parts in Romans 12 and 1 Corinthians 12. The different parts of the body need each other and when they work together the body functions properly.
The beauty of this image and situation is found in the love and support we give and receive in the community. There are times when we desperately need the support of a loving community and there are times when we provide the support to members of the community.
This ‘strange’ year has highlighted the need for community. We need to care for each other and look out for each other.
It’s great to know God is always doing his best for us. It’s also clear our sisters and brothers are gifts from God. God often helps us through the community. God bless you with all the help you need and with all the strength you need to help others.
Light at the water’s edge
by Anastasia Kim
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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
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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
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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