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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.
True authority is your friend
by Linda Macqueen
Click here to download your printable verse to carry with you today.
So be strong, act like a man, and observe what the Lord your God requires (1 Kings 2:2b,3a).
Read 1 Kings 1:32–2:4
Authority gets bad reviews these days. That’s probably because we so often see people using their authority for selfish – even evil – purposes. But authority, used the way God intended, is a blessing. Properly exercised, authority creates order and security, promotes justice and frees people to thrive.
Today, we see old King David ready to pass on the mantle of leadership. Adonijah, having attempted to seize the throne for himself, is suddenly struck with panic, his self-appointed authority dissolving like jelly under the weight of David’s God-given authority. In contrast, unassuming Solomon, the rightful heir, becomes strong and resolute. His character is forged into steel by David’s clear, decisive command and blessing.
David’s authority was not merely political; his words shaped destinies. Solomon received not only the crown but also a charge: ‘Be strong, act like a man, and observe what the Lord your God requires.’ David’s authority equipped Solomon to face the challenges ahead with confidence and courage, and with the support of the people.
Yet David’s authority, as mighty as it was, points us to a greater authority – one given by God to Jesus. Throughout the gospels, we see Jesus exercising authority over sickness, storms, evil spirits and even death itself. His authority was absolute because it came from the Father himself. Unlike David, whose authority was limited to a nation, Jesus’ authority extends over all creation and all the powers of darkness.
With Solomon, we are called to stand firm and trust in the One who holds ultimate authority. When we recognise Christ’s authority in our lives, our courage is kindled, and fear is sent packing. May we walk confidently, knowing that he is for us, his word is final, and his kingdom will stand forever.
Dear Jesus, forgive me for forgetting that you have authority over everything in heaven and on earth, over powers and dominions, even death. I bring to you my fears and anxieties and lay them at your feet. Just say the word and banish them from my heart and mind today. Amen.
Linda Macqueen retired in September 2025, having served 26 years as editor of The Lutheran and Communications Manager for the LCANZ. She has rapidly adapted to retirement, happily and energetically bringing her long-neglected home and garden back to life. She lives in the beautiful Adelaide Hills with her husband, Mark, and with their household’s lord and master, Nelson the rescued galah.
True greatness
by Linda Macqueen
Click here to download your printable verse to carry with you today.
Solomon … shall be king after me, and he will sit on my throne in my place (1 Kings 1:30b).
Read 1 Kings 1:5–31
This reading describes a dramatic event in the history of Israel’s monarchy. In today’s language, we might call it a military coup. Adonijah, an elder brother of Solomon, defies the authority of his father, King David, gathers around him fickle religious and political leaders, disloyal factions of the army and opportunistic members of his own family, and declares himself king. He makes lavish public sacrifices, but this is not done to honour God; it’s feigned humility and reverence designed to garner the support of the people. This overgrown, spoilt brat does not sound anything like the descendant of David whom God had promised would continue the royal bloodline (2 Samuel 7:11b–16).
Meanwhile, young Solomon is waiting quietly and patiently in the background. Like his father before him, he does not put his name forward to be king. And unlike his brother, Solomon does not grasp power, fame or anything else that might prop up a fragile ego. It’s no surprise then that it is Solomon, not Adonijah, whom God establishes as king of Israel.
This pattern is seen time and time again in God’s dealings with his people. God resists the proud and gives grace to the humble (James 4:6). In Jesus, we see humility perfected. Though he was God, Jesus did not consider equality with God something to be grasped. Instead, he emptied himself, taking the form of a servant and obeying God even to death on the cross (Philippians 2:5–8). His leadership was marked not by self-promotion, but by self-sacrifice, love and service.
Whether it is found in a kitchen or a boardroom, true greatness in the kingdom of God always has and always will be clothed in humility and self-denial.
Heavenly Father, help me to reject the spirit of Adonijah – the temptation to use my knowledge, position or strength to promote myself. Instead, help me to adopt the humility of Solomon and, ultimately, of Jesus: to trust your timing, to wait patiently for your call, to serve with humility wherever you have placed me, and (if you ask me) to lead with gentleness and grace. Amen.
Linda Macqueen retired in September 2025, having served 26 years as editor of The Lutheran and Communications Manager for the LCANZ. She has rapidly adapted to retirement, happily and energetically bringing her long-neglected home and garden back to life. She lives in the beautiful Adelaide Hills with her husband, Mark, and with their household’s lord and master, Nelson the rescued galah.
Get ready for a shake-up
by Linda Macqueen
Click here to download your printable verse to carry with you today.
… The time will come when not one stone will be left on another; every one of them will be thrown down (Luke 21:6).
Read Luke 21:5–19
Imagine that Jesus is looking at you right in the eye and telling you that everything you’ve built your hope on is about to crumble, that even what you believe about God and his promises is sinking sand. That’s pretty much what Jesus is telling his disciples in today’s text.
For the disciples and all devout Jews, the temple was much more than a building. It was the very heart of their worship, the place where heaven and earth met, and the dwelling place of God among his people. Its grandeur was a visible sign of God’s presence and his promise of enduring faithfulness. So, what Jesus was saying, that ‘not one stone will be left on another’, was utterly shocking – and this, coming from a rabbi!
Jesus was preparing the disciples for the day when everything they thought they knew about God and how he works would shatter. The temple had reached its use-by date; God was about to create a radically new way of living among his people. Jesus’ declaration to his disciples – about the fall of the temple and the awful hardships ahead – was a harsh one. But the disciples’ religious foundations had to shatter, so they could build a faith on the Rock that would last forever.
Still today, God, in his great love for us, will not allow us to build our lives on anything less than Christ himself. From time to time, he will rattle us, causing the foundations of our self-made security to tremble. If necessary, he will even shake us free of our religious rules and rituals, if they are what we are building our hope on. God will do whatever it takes to make us cling to Christ alone.
Jesus, my Rock and my Redeemer, what is it that you are asking me to let go of today? Help me to place my trust not in what can be lost (no matter how noble it might be), but in you alone, my eternal Saviour who holds me safe, no matter what is crumbling beneath my feet. Amen.
Linda Macqueen retired in September 2025, having served 26 years as editor of The Lutheran and Communications Manager for the LCANZ. She has rapidly adapted to retirement, happily and energetically bringing her long-neglected home and garden back to life. She lives in the beautiful Adelaide Hills with her husband, Mark, and with their household’s lord and master, Nelson the rescued galah.