by Charles Bertelsmeier
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Read Ecclesiastes 1:1–11
Although I can remember the names and a little about the lives of my grandparents, I would struggle to tell you the names of all my great-grandparents or anything about their lives.
Then I think about my grandchildren and realise they know virtually nothing about my parents and previous generations. I’m sure we could all agree with the sentiment expressed in today’s verse.
We will spend today and the next four days looking at the Old Testament book of Ecclesiastes. Before you open your calendar app and set a reminder to resume reading LCA devotions next Saturday and skip these five days, let me encourage you to persevere. God has put every book of the Bible there for a reason and has a message for us. I pray that God has a message for you in what he gives me to write. You may also like to read the whole book before we proceed with these devotions.
The first verse of this book indicates that the author is King Solomon. God blessed King Solomon to be one of the wisest people in history. He is also believed to be the author of the biblical book Song of Songs and to have collected many proverbs.
In Ecclesiastes, the author conducts a series of scientific experiments to find the meaning of life. In reflecting on this, I think we are all doing the same, but probably not as scientifically as Solomon. As young children, we are absorbed in play. As teenagers, we are trying to discover who we are. As young adults, we seek acceptance through our friendship circles and employment. Then, we aim to perpetuate our identity through our children, moving on to get ourselves financially secure and finally retiring to contemplate what we have achieved with our lives. Maybe we will even write up our life stories to perpetuate our legacies.
Solomon tries a range of activities to find meaning and fulfilment but comes up empty each time. Most of these things are things we also do to try to discover meaning and purpose. Spoiler alert: The conclusion Solomon comes to is that we only find that meaning and purpose through our relationship with God and by surrendering our lives to the plans he has for us.
Most of us, me included, didn’t want to hear that when we were younger and tried looking elsewhere. I thank God he didn’t give up on me and gently led me to accept Solomon’s conclusion.
Heavenly Father, I accept that life without you is meaningless. Please help me to listen to your Spirit as we dive into the Book of Ecclesiastes and to find meaning and purpose in your plans for us. Amen.
Charles is a retired engineer who has worked on communications projects for the air force, army and navy. He lives in a retirement village in the outer north-western suburbs of Sydney with his wife, Diane. Together, they have four children and eight grandchildren, all of whom they love spending time with. Charles keeps busy caring for their pot plants and a community vegetable garden, researching his family history and volunteering at LifeWay Lutheran Church.
The very least
by Reid Matthias
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I tell you, among those born of women there is no-one greater than John; yet the one who is least in the kingdom of God is greater than he (Luke 7:28).
Read Luke 7:24–30
Is this hyperbole? Should we interpret Jesus’ words as a literal statement?
Because it feels as though these words are too over-the-top to believe. John the Baptist – the one who made straight the way in the desert, the one who baptised Jesus! – is not as great as the least in the kingdom.
Come on, really?
I guess I’d better see who’s on the list of ‘least of these’.
Jesus is pretty detailed about who these ‘greater-than-Johns’ are, and it comes from the Book of Matthew, chapter 25. This list includes the hungry, the naked, the sick and the imprisoned! The contemporary world is evidently quite content to treat Jesus’ words as hyperbole. There is no way that all the needy and the imprisoned can be greater than John the Baptist.
They haven’t done anything … They have no value … They clog up the system for those who produce …
These are the words of the Pharisees.
But Jesus literally says, ‘For I was hungry … I was thirsty … I was a stranger … I was naked, and I was imprisoned.’ And if we believe that Jesus is Lord of Lords and King of Kings, then Jesus is the one who is greater than John.
This means that when we seek to improve the lives of the hungry, the thirsty, the sick, the naked and the imprisoned, even if we do the very least, we are taking part in God’s work in his kingdom.
Much like the ancient Pharisees, modern-day humans expect Jesus to be on the side of the rich, the powerful and the important, but that’s not the case at all. Jesus (and John, for that matter) has never been what we expected. Thankfully, he ends up being more.
You may be hungry, thirsty, or sick while you read this. You may be exposed to the elements and suffering from the coldness of rejection. You may feel imprisoned by your thoughts and your past. Jesus is with you, child of God. Jesus draws you to himself, and instead of being the least, you are one of the most important people in the kingdom.
You are his beloved.
Thank you, Jesus, for your presence in my times of need. Help me see that in others also. 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
That nobody is somebody
by Reid Matthias
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The first thing Andrew did was to find his brother Simon and tell him, ‘We have found the Messiah!’ (that is, the Christ). And Andrew brought his brother to Jesus (John 1:41,42a).
Read John 1:29–42
At first, Jesus wasn’t famous. Not like who the internet tells me are the five most famous people in the world: Cristiano Ronaldo and Lionel Messi (soccer players), followed by Kylie Jenner, Kim Kardashian and Taylor Swift.
No, Jesus was not a ‘nepo baby’ (someone made famous by their parents). His parents were not famous (not at that point, anyway), and he didn’t receive any extra assistance upon growing up, save some frankincense, myrrh and gold. And Jesus wouldn’t have been identified by anyone in Galilee. Except on those two days when Jesus walked by his cousin, John, who yelled out, ‘Look, the Lamb of God!’
Strange, isn’t it? Of all the things John could have said as he pointed. You know – ‘Hey, everybody, that’s the Son of God right there!’ or ‘Everybody drop what you’re doing. That man is going to save the entirety of human existence from their sins!’ And instead, he chose, ‘the Lamb of God!’
Maybe that was part of the intrigue for Andrew, one of John’s disciples. After John had been questioned about his own Messiah-ness, he pointed out his cousin, Jesus, as the one who was and is to come.
But he wasn’t famous.
Yet after one afternoon, Andrew saw enough in Jesus to run to the most important person in his life, his brother Peter (Simon). He told him that this no-name, nobody, wandering, totally unexpected rabbi was the Messiah. The one they’d been waiting for.
What would you do if Jesus showed up at your local grocery store? How would you react? If his identity was verified, who would you tell first, and how would you tell the story?
Lamb of God, Jesus Christ, come into my life today. Be with me where I’m staying. Be with me where I’m going. Be with me every second of my life. 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
The waiting
by Jane Mueller
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I waited patiently for the Lord; he inclined to me and heard my cry. He drew me up from the desolate pit, out of the miry bog, and set my feet upon a rock, making my steps secure (Psalm 40:1,2).
Read Psalm 40:1–11
There’s a kind of waiting that grinds. The kind where you’ve done everything right – prayed, served, persevered – and nothing shifts. Where your faith feels static, and your prayers seem unheard. David knew this waiting. He didn’t downplay it or romanticise it: ‘I waited patiently for the Lord.’ The original Hebrew text can be interpreted as, ‘I waited and waited.’ It’s not serene; it’s survival.
David called his place of despair ‘the desolate pit’. Sometimes, the pit is burnout. Sometimes, it’s depression. Sometimes, it’s the slow suffocation of carrying other people’s expectations while pretending you’re fine. The miry bog clings – fear of failure, resentment that you can’t say aloud, the quiet cynicism that creeps in when God feels absent.
And yet, David doesn’t stay in the mud. He’s pulled out, not because he climbed harder, but because God reached lower. ‘He drew me up … set my feet upon a rock.’ Grace does what striving never could.
Notice that the rescue doesn’t erase the scars. David still remembers the pit. He still names the waiting. Faith doesn’t mean pretending it never happened; it means standing steady while you still smell like the mud you came from.
Here we are in 2026. It’s still early in the year – the time we’re meant to feel renewed, focused and ready. But maybe you already feel spent. Perhaps you’ve hit February-level fatigue in January. If so, you’re right where grace works.
Maybe ‘waiting and waiting’ is your first act of faith this year. Not hustling, not forcing; just holding your ground while God does what only he can – because he still pulls people out of pits, even when the calendar’s shiny and your soul isn’t.
So, if you’re in the thick of it, stop polishing the mud or trying to climb your own way out of the pit. Wait … not because you’ve given up, but because you’ve handed it over. Trust that the waiting isn’t wasted. Give God the truth of it and let him meet you there. Let him lift you again. Let him restore you to solid and steady ground.
In her book, When the Heart Waits, Sue Monk Kidd writes, ‘When you’re waiting, you’re not doing nothing. You’re doing the most important something there is. You’re allowing your soul to grow up. If you can’t be still and wait, you can’t become what God created you to be.’
The pit isn’t the end of the story. It’s where grace starts to write a new one.
God, I’m tired of pretending the pit doesn’t exist. You see the exhaustion, the fear and the ache I’ve stopped naming. Meet me there. Pull me up again. Amen.
Jane is a former Lutheran school principal and now serves as Governance Leadership Director for Lutheran Education SA, NT & WA. Jane has a keen interest in psychology, enjoys hiking and loves learning about and trying new things.