Essential lessons in Vegemite application

by Jane Mueller

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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.

Pulling on the maroon jersey

by Jane Mueller

Click here to download your printable verse to carry with you today.

… that they may all be one … so that the world may believe that you have sent me (John 17:21).

Read John 17:11b–26

I grew up in South Australia, where football meant AFL. Footy was played with an oval ball, and jumpers were sleeveless. Winter weekends revolved around long arguments about umpiring decisions while kicking a Sherrin in the backyard.

Rugby league was a term used by foreigners. It felt like something that happened somewhere else, to other people.

Then I moved to Queensland.

And it didn’t take long to be re-educated.

I learned that rugby league isn’t just a sport; it’s a cultural commitment. State of Origin is not ‘just a game’. It doesn’t simply appear on the calendar; it shapes it. Organisations wait for the State of Origin dates to be released before setting their own meeting dates and events. After all, expecting attendance at anything unrelated to rugby league during a State of Origin game would be foolishly naïve and wildly optimistic.

For most of the season, men play for rival clubs, where they train separately, chase different trophies and zealously try to beat one another every week. But when State of Origin arrives, club loyalties are set aside. Players who spend most of the year competing against one another pull on the maroon jersey and play together as Queensland. Differences remain, but they are laid down for something bigger. The Maroons play as one, not because they are the same, but because they are committed to a shared purpose.

In today’s reading, Jesus prays for something like that – only deeper, and for the sake of the world.

Jesus prays for all believers. He doesn’t ask that his followers all think the same, agree on everything or lose their distinctiveness. He prays that they may be one – grounded in love, shaped by relationship and held together by God.

And Jesus names what is at stake: ‘So that the world may believe.’ Unity is not an institutional church aspiration – it’s missional. The way followers of Jesus live together communicates something about God to the world.

This kind of unity is not easy because it runs counter to the habits our world rewards. It grows as fruit where love is already at work, forming humility, patience, forgiveness and restraint. Unity is not about winning arguments, but remembering what we’re playing for and who we belong to.

Jesus prays this on the eve of betrayal and abandonment, when everything that could hold his followers together is about to give way. He knows unity will be tested. Still, he places his followers into God’s care and asks that his love – not rivalry – would define them. In a fractured world, unity shaped by love becomes a powerful witness – not because it’s easy, but because it’s rare.

Lord Jesus, you know how easily difference turns into division. When patience runs short, when relationships feel strained, and when unity feels costly, hold us together in your love. 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.