Standing Before God 17th Day in Lent (Monday) Read: Romans 5:1-11 “Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand.” Romans 5:1-2a (NIV) ‘Grace is the basis for our standing before God’. What does it mean to ‘stand before a King’? I enjoy reading the historical fiction books by Philippa Gregory. It is obvious in these books that there was a hierarchy in society in the Middle Ages. There was the upper class consisting of the kings/monarchs, nobles, knights, and clergy. Then the middle class tended to be the merchants, doctors, and those with important jobs; and then there was the lower class – the peasants and serfs who performed all the menial tasks and jobs. Firstly, to see the king you had to get through all the secretaries and make an appointment – only if you had an important issue. If it wasn’t important or considered necessary or beneficial to the kingship, there would be no way to stand in the king’s presence. Through the saving action of God in His Son Jesus Christ, God has allowed us to come directly into His presence and talk to Him freely. Back in the Old Testament times, the common people had to talk to God through the priests and offer sacrifices to make themselves worthy. Now we are reconciled with God. Reconciliation is talked about quite freely in society and between cultures and nations, but the essence of reconciliation is to bring people together with differences or conflicts and help them understand each other. Being reconciled with God means that He has come to us directly and made us clean through the act of Jesus on the cross. He opened Himself up for us to understand more of the nature of God. So, we can stand in His presence – the King of Kings and Lord of Lords. We don’t have to ask for an audience from a priest or secretary. Through the grace of God, we can stand in His presence and ask Him for whatever is on our minds. We can understand and accept the grace and love that He offers us every day. Jesus’ act of suffering allowed us to stand before God. Prayer: Dear Lord God, thank you for your reconciling love and act of grace toward me. Being able to stand in your presence is humbling, helps me always to be appreciative. Amen. 2
At your word
by Anastasia Kim
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Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing. Yet if you say so, I will let down the nets (Luke 5:5).
Read Luke 5:1–11
Miracles are often imagined as moments of triumph or reward. Scripture resists such a simple reading. In Luke 5, the miracle does not erase fatigue, nor does it confirm human competence. It exposes it.
Simon and his partners have already finished their work. The nets are washed. Failure has been accepted as final. Into that exhausted space, Jesus steps into Simon’s boat and uses it as his pulpit. Before any miracle occurs, Simon gives Jesus access to what is his. This first obedience is quiet, costly and easily overlooked.
There are days when my own nets feel just as washed and finished. Only after the teaching ends does Jesus speak a word that contradicts experience. ‘Put out into the deep water.’ Simon answers honestly. He names the emptiness of the night. He does not argue from expertise. He yields to a word that exceeds reason. ‘At your word.’
The catch that follows is overwhelming. Boats strain. Nets tear. But the true miracle is not abundance. It is recognition. Simon falls at Jesus’ knees, not in gratitude, but in fear. Confronted with holiness, he sees himself clearly. This is not shame for its own sake. It is the proper response to divine presence. Like Isaiah before the throne, Simon knows he does not belong here.
Jesus does not depart. He speaks the gospel. ‘Do not be afraid.’ The miracle does not bind Simon to success. It frees him from it. What follows is not stewardship advice or a strategy for growth, but a call that reorders life entirely. They leave the boats. They follow.
In a world trained to negotiate with God, this text restores reverence. We are not invited to manage grace, assess outcomes or protect our nets. We are called by a word that creates faith where there was only emptiness. Even the smallest obedience, offered without certainty, becomes the place where Christ reveals himself.
Lord Jesus Christ, speak your word into our tired places. Free us from fear, and call us again to trust you and follow, for our life rests in your grace alone. 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.
For whom is the time of liberating grace?
by Anastasia Kim
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The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor (Luke 4:18a).
Read Luke 4:14–21
Luke tells us that Jesus returned to Galilee ‘in the power of the Spirit’. That detail matters. Jesus does not begin his ministry in Jerusalem, the religious centre, but in Galilee, a region shaped by vulnerability, mixed populations and long-standing suspicion. Galilee was home to many who lived on the margins, including Gentiles, and who were often regarded as socially insignificant. It is precisely there that Jesus goes, led by the Spirit.
This power comes after the wilderness. The Spirit who led Jesus into hunger and testing now leads him into public ministry. In Luke’s Gospel, spiritual power is not found in avoiding struggle, but in faithfulness lived within it. The Spirit does not shield Jesus from fragile realities. The Spirit sends him into them.
When Jesus arrives in Nazareth, nothing dramatic happens. ‘As was his custom’, he enters the synagogue on the Sabbath and stands to read. Spirit-filled ministry begins in ordinary faithfulness. The Spirit does not pull Jesus away from Israel’s worship but draws him deeper into it. Opening the scroll of Isaiah, Jesus reads words first spoken to exiles: good news for the poor, release for captives, sight for the blind, freedom for the oppressed. These words describe real-life conditions, not abstract ideals.
Jesus calls this moment ‘the year of the Lord’s favour’. This is not simply a calendar year, nor a promise deferred to the distant future. It is God’s gracious time breaking into the present. This liberation does not begin with human action, but with Christ’s declaration that God’s grace is already at work. In Luke, forgiveness is not merely spoken. It is enacted. What binds is loosened. What is crushed is lifted. Those pushed aside are named as the very recipients of God’s grace.
Then Jesus says the words that still unsettle me: ‘Today this Scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.’ God’s liberating grace is not postponed. It is happening now. This ‘today’ is uncomfortable, because it reveals that grace is not reserved for the familiar or the respectable. It reaches across boundaries, toward outsiders and those who were long excluded.
As I sit quietly with this text, I find myself asking whom I expect God’s grace to be for. Jesus makes it clear that God’s work begins among the vulnerable and moves outward from there. Spirit-filled faith does not withdraw from the world. It follows Christ into the places where God’s grace is already being spoken into life.
Today, the time of liberating grace is still unfolding.
Spirit of the Lord, open my eyes to see who your grace is for today. Anchor my life in Christ’s mercy, and lead me toward those who most need your freedom. 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.
Saved for fearless worship
by Anastasia Kim
Click here to download your printable verse to carry with you today.
… to give his people knowledge of salvation by the forgiveness of their sins (Luke 1:77).
Read Luke 1:68–79
Luke 1:68–79 places us just after John’s birth. Zechariah, whose voice had long been silent, is finally able to speak. And when he does, he does not explain himself or his experience. He sings. In his song, he recognises what God has been doing all along. What once sounded like an angel’s distant promise is now confessed as fulfilled mercy.
The joy surrounding John’s birth is more than the happiness of a long-awaited child. It is joy rooted in mercy. Luke uses the word eleos to describe it. Not a vague kindness, but God’s tender concern for those in real need. As Zechariah’s song unfolds, that need turns out not to belong only to Elizabeth or to one family’s story. It names ‘us’. Those who sit in darkness. Those who live under the shadow of death. Those who know what it is to lack peace.
Some words in the song sound almost political: ‘that we would be saved from our enemies and from the hand of all who hate us’ (Luke 1:71). It is not hard to hear in them the hopes of a people longing for deliverance. I found myself feeling the same way when I read this passage.
Luke does not silence those hopes. But the song itself leads us deeper. Its centre is not conquest, but forgiveness. ‘Knowledge of salvation’ comes, Zechariah sings, ‘by the forgiveness of their sins’ (Luke 1:77b). The most decisive enemy is not only outside us. It is sin and all that follows from it: fear, bondage and, finally, death.
The purpose of this salvation is then named with surprising clarity. We are rescued ‘from the hands of our enemies’ so that we might ‘serve him without fear, in holiness and righteousness in his presence all our days’ (Luke 1:74,75). Redemption is not only about being saved from something; it is also about being saved for something. A life before God. A life shaped by worship. A life no longer driven by anxiety but carried by mercy.
So Zechariah’s song gently lifts our eyes. Beyond every short-lived victory. Beyond every hope that cannot finally hold. It points us to the dawn that breaks from on high. Christ comes down to us. He forgives sins. He shines into the darkness. And he guides our feet, again and again, into the way of peace.
Lord God of Israel, we worship you for visiting your people with tender mercy. Forgive our sins, free us from fear, and shape our lives for holy service. By your dawning light, shine into our darkness and guide our feet into peace. 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.