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