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
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… 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.
The everlasting light that does not fade
by Anastasia Kim
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The sun shall no longer be your light by day, nor the moon by night; the Lord will be your everlasting light, and your days of mourning shall be ended (Isaiah 60:19,20).
Read Isaiah 60:19–22
We cannot live without light. Our days are governed by the sun, our nights softened by the moon. Even rest depends on some form of light to guide and steady us. Yet Isaiah dares to proclaim a future in which neither sun nor moon is necessary, because God himself becomes the light. This is not poetic exaggeration but a theological promise of new creation.
Isaiah 60:19–22 stands at the ‘end of times’ climax of the chapter. It does not merely describe restoration after exile, but the fulfilment of God’s saving purpose, where created lights give way to the uncreated Light. The text assumes the reality of sorrow. ‘Your days of mourning shall be ended’ only makes sense because mourning has been real, persistent and heavy. Law is spoken honestly: human life is marked by fragility, loss and limits. We depend on rhythms that fail, bodies that weaken and hopes that dim.
Into this reality, the gospel is announced. The Lord does not simply provide light; he is the light. Salvation here is not improvement of circumstances but the gift of divine presence. In Lutheran terms, this is grace in its purest form: donum Dei. God gives himself. Verse 21 deepens the promise. ‘Your people shall all be righteous.’ This righteousness is not achieved but bestowed, a status granted by God’s own faithfulness. The future of God’s people rests not on their strength but on God’s promise.
For those in later life, or those who walk alongside them, this word speaks with particular tenderness. The promise is not that life will become brighter in visible ways, but that it will never fall into final darkness. When memory fades, strength diminishes, and productivity ceases, dignity remains, because God himself is their glory. The light that does not fade is already given, hidden now under the cross, but certain in hope.
Everlasting God, you are our light when all other lights fail. Abide with us in our weakness, and let your presence be our glory. Through Jesus Christ, the Light of the World. 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.
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
Name the tune
by Reid Matthias
Click here to download your printable verse to carry with you today.
And they sang a new song (Revelation 5:9a).
Read Revelation 5:6–14
The Book of Revelation is generally seen from two different perspectives. On one hand, there are those who think about it as that ‘freaky book of prophecy at the end of the Bible – let’s avoid it’, and on the other hand, there are those who say, ‘The Book of Revelation is the most important in the Bible, and the interpretation of it will unlock everything we need to know about God and the future – let’s study only that one.’
Perhaps somewhere in the middle of these two perspectives is some fertile ground for conversation and devotion. Shall we have a go at it?
There is immense pageantry in this passage of what was revealed to John. He describes the throne room, the hub of heaven. Sitting on the grand chair is God, who has in his hand the scroll that unlocks the secrets of what is most important to him, and he’s looking for someone worthy to read it. None of the four creatures is worthy to open the scroll. The 24 elders are left wanting. In fact, there is no-one in heaven or on Earth who can be found worthy of opening it.
While many might have been wondering what was written, those in attendance at the majesty and pageantry are overwhelmed with awe – deep, intense wonder – at the ‘Lamb who was slain’, who appears at the centre of the throne room. The attendees fall to their knees. Suddenly, everything they might have worried about in the scroll melts away, and they can only see the Lamb of God.
Once they recover their senses, the 24 elders pick up their harps and begin to sing a new song, completely focused on Jesus and what he had done. We aren’t told what their old song was, but if it’s anything like our contemporary world, the song might have been something like this:
I am worthy.
I have been faithful.
I have done all this for you, Jesus.
I have earned my way to heaven.
But the new song sung by the elders, then joined by 10,000 times 10,000 angels, and finally every creature in heaven and on Earth (can you imagine it!), is:
To him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb be praise and honour and glory and power forever and ever!
And they all fell down and worshipped.
You see, faith has never been about us. It’s never been about our good deeds and our ‘thoughts and prayers’. No, it’s always been about Jesus. It’s the song that should continue to be sung from now through eternity.
Here is the core of the Book of Revelation. It’s not simply a glimpse into the End Times, but more a spotlight on the One who has, is and will always love the creation and will bring it back to himself someday in the future.
Now, what will your new song sound like?
To him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb be praise and honour and glory and power, forever and ever. 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 people you meet
by Reid Matthias
Click here to download your printable verse to carry with you today.
Then Philip ran up to the chariot and heard the man reading Isaiah the prophet. ‘Do you understand what you are reading?’ Philip asked (Acts 8:30).
Read Acts 8:29–35
Unfortunately, the context from this passage is not included in our reading today; however, Philip has been told by an angel of the Lord. No other directions, only ‘Go south to the desert road …’
It’s interesting how we meet the most wonderful people when we travel along paths that seem deserted. While on recent travels in a different country, I happened to be wearing a Fremantle Dockers cap. As we were walking outside the Vatican, a man eyed me curiously. As we passed each other on the street, he said to me, ‘Go the Pies.’ Of course, I wasn’t ready for someone who knew AFL; however, we had a brief conversation that ultimately resulted in another surprise.
We were on the same cruise ship. And we met each other again by the pool.
For 10 days, I met and re-met this man and his wife, and each time we did, we talked about deeper things. He found out I was a pastor in Australia, which, while he hadn’t had a positive experience with religion, he found the eventual conversation about faith fascinating and not at all what he expected.
Now, in likening my story with Philip’s story in the Bible, I did not eventually baptise him in the ship’s swimming pool. But the other similarities bear a resemblance. Philip was minding his own business when an angel directed him to go a certain way. When he did, he encountered a startling man – an important official, a eunuch, who was in charge of the treasury of Queen Candace in Ethiopia.
It would have been very easy for Philip to disregard this man. Certainly, this foreigner, this Gentile, and a disgraced one at that, could have been seen as outside the boundaries of grace. Philip’s response to the official’s question of faith was one of connection and faith. After the passage was explained to him, the official asked to be baptised, and what history tells us is that this Ethiopian official took the Christian faith back to Africa, where some of the oldest churches in history, older even than those in Europe, were started.
This was because of God’s hope of saving faith through Jesus for all people. God used Philip and his obedience simply to ‘Go south to the road – the desert road.’
On which deserted road might God be calling you? Can you imagine the interesting people you might meet and share the saving grace of Jesus with?
Thank you, Holy Spirit, for speaking to me, giving me guidance along the way. Open my eyes to the wonderful opportunities to share your love. 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
Are you serious?
by Reid Matthias
Click here to download your printable verse to carry with you today.
‘Nazareth! Can anything good come from there?’ Nathanael asked. ‘Come and see,’ said Philip (John 1:46).
Read John 1:43–51
Let’s face it. We all know that one place, or that one town, where everyone said, ‘Uh, that’s the place to avoid.’ I won’t name any names here (other than Las Vegas, ugh), but picture that town or city in your mind. Then, understand why Nathanael questioned Jesus’ hometown.
For Nathanael, Nazareth would have carried the same significance as Woop Woop, Australia. Considered by many locals to be the middle of nowhere, Nazareth had no special meaning to anyone or anything. Additionally, the Old Testament Scriptures don’t seem to point to Nazareth much when it comes to Messianic prophecy, although Matthew says that the Messiah would be a Nazarene. Bethlehem, yes. Jerusalem, yes. Nazareth, not so much.
Therefore, Nathanael’s question is about being flabbergasted.
God doesn’t use the normal, everyday kind of place or person for his needs. God uses the famous and the entertaining. God uses bright lights and neon signs, right?
It’s interesting that Philip’s response to Nathanael’s question is so short and simple. ‘Come and see.’ Philip doesn’t have to convince Nathanael of Jesus’ power or his references. Jesus can do that on his own.
Just come and see. Jesus is the King, born in a manger. He’s the Lord of Creation walking down the road with sandy feet. He’s the Prince of Peace who will carry the cross for you and me.
So much more than we ever expected from someone from Woop Woop, Nazareth.
If I can offer any one piece of advice for this, on 21 January, it would be this: Don’t be surprised when the world’s limitations of Jesus fall short. Those who would call him a fairy tale, a myth, a liar and a fraud will someday come to the realisation that Jesus is the Son of God come for you and me to bring us to the Father for eternal life.
Come and see.
Thank you, Jesus, for coming to this world, a humble servant, a king with a cross. Thank you for superseding all my expectations and overwhelming me with joy for your future. 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