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I'm sharing this journal entry from one of our sheep / shepherds for your encouragement and invite you to share your stories to keep us connected David
Thursday April 2, 2020: A journal entry:
JESUS WEPT.
A Morning mist of low cloud wrapped soft around the hills.
I read John 6 and tried to ponder on Jesus the living bread. But the mist beckoned and drew me outside, quickly enfolding me in its clammy embrace.
There was no pausing to choose direction. I headed straight up the hill blanketed in the foggy stillness, only birdcall echoing the inner certainty – she’s coming to pray.
Pray up the hill. I haven’t prayed up there for a while. I’ve prayed. But not there on God’s hill, my place of retreat.
At the summit, as cloud drifted and lifted, it was my heart that rained out its anguished plea, the cry for help with COVID19: LORD HEAR OUR PRAYER. Help us Jesus.
That was it. No wordy waffle. I perched on the rim of the damp bench, poised in grief and need; heart, mind and spirit turned to God, “Yet still do I praise you Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Living God.”
A lull then settled over me, like a mute button had been pressed to hush the turmoil of my distressed thoughts and wretched emotions concerning the plight of the world’s people. Wait. Be quiet!
Jesus wept. The words from last Sunday’s reading came to mind loud and clear.
33 When Jesus saw her crying, and the Judaeans who had come with her crying, he was deeply stirred in his spirit, and very troubled. 34 ‘Where have you laid him?’ he asked. ‘Master,’ they said, ‘come and see.’ 35 Jesus burst into tears. (John 11:33-35 NTE)
I too burst into tears, and as I wept, there at the top of the hill, I knew he was weeping with me. Weeping with all the world. Weeping for us all.
Turn to me. And I, turning, vision all awash, could see clearly, he was there. Feed my sheep. To this I shook my head, and thought, I’m no pastor. You are a minister of my word. Therefore, speak my word to others. Speak my word to one another. And suddenly understanding dawned. “You aren’t just saying this to me, are you? It’s your call to all of us: Feed your sheep. The responsibility is ours collectively.” And I pictured the scattered sheep, isolated from one another but belonging together and needing creative new ways of being church and speaking grace and hope to one another and others.
I plunged, then, down the hill, not following the worn paths but winding down the steeper slope, weaving through knee high weeds, around rocky mounds and patches of slippery flattened grass, to emerge at the wider base track.
Now is the time to forge new paths. Jesus is still the Way, the “base track” of my faith remains the same. It’s the network of familiar paths that represent how we have lived out our faith, that have fallen away, not God’s word or his kingdom, or his love.
I am thankful for this love that comes to us where we are: scattered sheep weeping in the mist of uncertainty. I’m thankful that Jesus wept and that his way isn’t set in stone. That he comes and calls us to discover a new and living way, today and tomorrow and the next day. Hallelujah! This is a new day! And the Jesus who weeps with us in our distress will renew us and lead us on beyond COVID19.
JESUS WEPT.
The autumn sun filtered a pale ray through the drifting grey. A reminder that the God who weeps, also sheds light as well as tears.
The day the Spirit hit ‘go’
by Jane Mueller
Click here to download your printable verse to carry with you today.
Peter said to them, ‘Repent and be baptised every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ so that your sins may be forgiven, and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit’ (Acts 2:38).
Read Acts 2:36–42
Pentecost is when the Holy Spirit turned a local message into a global one. Different people, different accents, different dialects, one message: Jesus is alive. The Holy Spirit disassembled arguably the biggest obstacle to global mission – the language barrier – by translating the gospel into the mother tongue of people from every nation under heaven. Pentecost shows that God doesn’t wait for us to work our way toward him; he meets us where we are. He meets us in our own language, our own culture and our own generation.
And, for that reason, maybe the Pentecost account needs a ‘remix’ to remind us that when God speaks fluent ‘human’, he speaks to all generations.
The Pentecost remix: Generation Alpha dialect
Fast-forward 50 days from Passover. Jerusalem’s stacked with pilgrims and passports from every corner – accents everywhere. Then boom: the disciples start spitting truth in every language. Not subtitles – Spirit-titles.
Crowds freeze mid-conversation like, ‘Hold up – how are these Galileans speaking my hometown lingo?’ Peter rolls up and goes, ‘Chill, this isn’t energy-drink mania – the Spirit pressed “go”, that’s all.’ Then he drops the gospel bomb: Jesus is alive. (Peter’s talking about the J-Man – the GOATed teacher who dropped parables like mixtapes, fed 5,000 with leftovers, and told sickness to sit down.) Peter drops the sequel: the main character’s alive, the Holy One’s still running the show. Death got debugged. Forgiveness is legit, and the Spirit’s for the global group chat.
The crowd is in meltdown, like, ‘Bruh, what even is step two? Do we just download forgiveness?’
Peter hits them with the classic mic drop: ‘Μετανοήσατε, καὶ βαπτισθήτω.’
Luther remixed it for his gen: ‘Tut Buße und lasst euch taufen.’
Vintage translators nerfed it to: ‘Repent and be baptised.’
Gen Alpha translation: ‘Change lanes, turn around, get grounded and glowed up.’
The Spirit goes full send – holy fire, zero chill. Heaven’s update drops, tongues are trending, and hope is on repeat. It’s a full-on grace quake – fear collapses, hearts reboot, and mercy shakes the system. Ordinary people walk like miracles because heaven’s already gone live.
That’s Pentecost: God turning human confusion into connection, and chaos into community.
The Spirit speaks our language today – through culture, creativity and even our clumsy words. We don’t need a polished speech or perfect prayers because God works through our real talk, our half-formed thoughts, our casual slang and our misunderstood jargon. He takes our normal, everyday voice – regardless of our generational dialect – and translates our words into living hope.
Holy Spirit, translate my hesitation into faith, my distraction into focus and my words into worship. Let your fire burn bright – in me, in your church and in the world. 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.
Ashes don’t get the last word
by Jane Mueller.
Click here to download your printable verse to carry with you today.
A new heart I will give you, and a new spirit I will put within you, and I will remove from your body the heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh (Ezekiel 36:26). Read Ezekiel 36:24–28
Australia knows bushfires. Black Friday in 1939 scorched Victoria, darkening the skies with smoke and killing 71 people. Ash Wednesday in 1983 claimed 75 lives across Victoria and South Australia, levelling whole communities. Black Summer in 2019–20 brought devastation on a scale almost beyond comprehension – millions of hectares burned, and thousands of homes destroyed. Thirty-three people lost their lives to the flames, and hundreds more deaths were later counted among the toll from smoke exposure. Every summer, the memory of bushfire lingers like a scar on our land and our hearts.
Ezekiel also knew devastation. He wrote to exiles who had seen their land razed, their temple destroyed, and their hope reduced to ash. Into that bleakness, God spoke, ‘I will sprinkle clean water upon you, and you shall be clean … I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you.’ God promised that destruction would not be the final word. Renewal was coming.
Have you walked in a bushfire-blackened landscape? It looks hopeless. Yet after rain, green shoots push through the ash. Nature holds the secret of resurrection. Likewise, God takes our scorched places – the losses, the grief, the failures – and brings new life. His Spirit writes resilience on our hearts. He plants hope where there was only ruin.
Scars remain, but scars can testify. Just as the landscape bears the memory of fire even as it regenerates, we bear witness to God’s Spirit who brings life from death. Out of ashes comes beauty. Out of devastation comes a new heart.
God of hope, I remember those who grieve losses caused by bushfires – past and present. Bring comfort to the broken-hearted and strength to rebuild. As I go about my day today, show me signs of new growth – a plant sprouting, a flower opening or even weeds pushing through cracks. Let these signs remind me that you bring life where I least expect it. 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.
What do Twenty20 cricket and Ancient Israel have in common?
by Jane Mueller
Click here to download your printable verse to carry with you today.
But now, this is what the Lord says – he who created you, Jacob, he who formed you, Israel: ‘Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine’ (Isaiah 43:1).
Read Isaiah 43:1–7
On this day in 2005, Aussies saw something new at the Western Australian Cricket Association ground in Perth: the very first Australian Twenty20 cricket match. Traditionalists scoffed. After all, cricket was a gentleman’s game of patience and strategy, not coloured shirts, roaring crowds and fireworks. Yet the game changed. It was fast, bright and captivating. Twenty20 brought new audiences to an old sport. Reinvention breathed fresh life into cricket.
God’s words through Isaiah also speak of reinvention. Israel had been battered by exile. Its identity was fractured. But God declared, ‘Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine.’ God wasn’t abandoning the covenant – Israel’s story wasn’t over. The God who never lets go was renewing the covenant and reshaping Israel’s story.
We live in a world that thrives on reinvention, but often leaves us exhausted as we constantly update, rebrand and hustle for relevance. The reinvention God offers is different. He doesn’t demand that we remake ourselves to earn his love. Instead, he renames us, claims us and redeems us. Our identity is secure. ‘You are mine.’
Let that sink in.
You are his.
Just as Twenty20 reshaped cricket without erasing its heart, God reshapes our lives without discarding who we are. He takes what is weary, fractured or stuck, and breathes new Spirit-filled energy into it. We are called by name into a story of belonging and purpose.
When fear rises – fear of change, of failure, of the unknown – remember that God has already called you by name. You belong. Your life is not defined by exile or loss, but by the redeeming love of the one who says, ‘You are mine’.
Redeeming God, thank you for calling me by name. When fear rises in me today – whether small or large – guide me to pause and whisper aloud, ‘I am yours. I belong to you.’ Let this confession quiet my fear and steady my steps. 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.