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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.
Help my unbelief
by Noel Due
Click here to download your printable verse to carry with you today.
I believe; help my unbelief! (Mark 9:24b)
Read Mark 9:14–29
The scene at the foot of the mountain is chaos. The glory of the Transfiguration has faded, and Jesus descends into argument, failure and desperation. A father brings his tormented son to the disciples, but they cannot help. The contrast is deliberate: the power of God revealed above meets the weakness of human faith below.
Jesus’ rebuke – ‘O faithless generation’ – is not aimed only at the scribes or the crowd, but at everyone present, disciples included. This strips away any confidence in technique, spiritual rank or past success. The disciples had cast out demons before, but yesterday’s faith cannot be relied on today. Faith is not a possession we store; it is a relationship of continual dependence.
The father’s cry stands at the centre of the passage. When Jesus says, ‘All things are possible for one who believes,’ the man does not pretend confidence. He does not offer polished faith or heroic trust. He brings what he has – and names what he lacks. ‘I believe; help my unbelief!’ This is not a contradiction but true faith speaking honestly. Faith is not certainty about oneself, but reliance on Christ precisely where certainty fails.
Jesus receives this prayer. He does not demand stronger faith before acting. He delivers the boy while the crowd thinks him dead. The resurrection language is intentional: Jesus takes him by the hand and lifts him up. God’s saving work often looks like defeat before it looks like life.
Later, the disciples ask why they failed. Jesus’ answer – ‘This kind cannot be driven out by anything but prayer’ – is not a technique but a diagnosis. Prayer confesses dependence. It refuses self-trust. It places the entire burden back onto God.
Mark 9 teaches the church how faith actually lives in a broken world. Not triumphantly, not confidently, but honestly. True faith does not hide unbelief; it brings it to Jesus. And Jesus, who does not despise weak faith, answers with mercy and power all the same.
Father, the cry of this dear man is also our cry. We believe, but help our unbelief. Receive our prayer and raise us up. For Jesus’ sake, Amen.
Noel is a semi-retired Lutheran pastor, writer, teacher and professional supervisor. He is married to Kirsten, a medical doctor, and they have three children and nine grandchildren. They also have two cats.
When worship forgets the neighbour
by Noel Due
Click here to download your printable verse to carry with you today.
Render true judgements, show kindness and mercy to one another (Zechariah 7:9b).
Read Zechariah 7:4–10
The question that frames Zechariah 7 is a religiously sincere one: Should we continue fasting as we have done? The context is important: for decades, the people have observed ritual fasts commemorating Jerusalem’s destruction. They are not at home; they are in exile. God’s answer, however, bypasses the calendar and goes straight to the heart. The issue is not whether the fasts were kept, but for whom they were kept. ‘When you fasted … was it for me?’ the Lord asks. Here is a searching word of law: religious practice can be meticulously correct and still be curved inwardly.
God’s response is not to abolish fasting, worship or feasts. Instead, he exposes a deeper problem – ritual without repentance, devotion without love. True worship is never merely vertical. The God who hears our prayers also hears our cries. Thus, the command follows: justice, kindness, mercy, protection of the vulnerable – the widow, the orphan, the sojourner, the poor. These are not optional ethical add-ons, but the fruit God has always desired.
Zechariah does not teach that acts of mercy earn God’s favour. The people were already God’s covenant people. Yet faith that trusts God’s promises cannot be sealed off from love of neighbour. Where faith clings to God’s mercy, mercy flows outward. Where religion becomes self-referential – fasting for ourselves – the neighbour disappears. All we see is ourselves.
The warning embedded here is sobering. God reminds them that earlier generations heard these same words ‘by the Spirit through the former prophets’ and yet refused to listen. Hardened hearts did not lack information; they lacked trust. The result was exile – not because God delights in punishment, but because unrepentant self-righteousness cuts itself off from life.
For the church today, Zechariah speaks clearly. The call is not to abandon worship, but to let worship reshape the heart. True fasting, true prayer, true devotion are received first as gifts of grace – and then lived out as mercy toward others. Where God’s mercy is trusted, it is never hoarded.
Dear Heavenly Father, we thank you for loving us with an everlasting love. Even when we have cut ourselves off from you, you have still had your face set toward us. You keep coming to us to give and redeem. Let your love for us truly reshape our hearts into your image day by day. Amen.
Noel is a semi-retired Lutheran pastor, writer, teacher and professional supervisor. He is married to Kirsten, a medical doctor, and they have three children and nine grandchildren. They also have two cats.
Hidden faith, real treasure
by Noel Due
Click here to download your printable verse to carry with you today.
Beware of practising your righteousness before other people in order to be seen by them (Matthew 6:1a).
Read Matthew 6:1–6,16–21
Jesus’ warning cuts against a deeply religious instinct that is revealed across all time and cultures: the desire for visible righteousness. Almsgiving, prayer and fasting are not condemned here; they are assumed. What is exposed is the heart’s longing to be seen, measured and approved. This is the old Adam at work – using even good works as currency for self-justification.
Jesus names the danger plainly: righteousness practised to be seen already has its reward. Human praise may come, but nothing more is promised. This is law, not advice. It unmasks a false trust – confidence in recognition, reputation or religious performance. The hypocrite, Jesus says, does not fail because of weak discipline, but because of misplaced faith.
The alternative Jesus gives is striking: secrecy. Give in secret. Pray behind a closed door. Fast without display. This is not spiritual minimalism, nor a strategy for humility. It is a reorientation of faith. True righteousness lives coram Deo – before God alone. Justification happens in this hidden place, where God sees not our performance but our need, and meets it with mercy.
The Lord’s Prayer, placed at the heart of this section, reinforces this. We do not pray to inform God or impress others, but to receive: daily bread, forgiveness and deliverance. Prayer is not a work offered upward, but an open hand turned toward heaven.
Jesus then broadens the warning: treasures reveal trusts. What we store up, protect and display discloses where our heart rests. Earthly treasure is vulnerable – subject to decay and theft. Heavenly treasure is secure because it is given, not earned, and kept by God himself. Here again, the theology of the cross prevails: what is hidden with God is more real than what shines before others.
This passage does not abolish good works; it rescues them. Freed from the need to justify ourselves, we can give, pray and fast – not to be seen, but because we are already seen by the Father who knows our need and delights to give.
Dear Father, we thank you that you can see through all our false pretences and our self-righteousness. We thank you that you see through to the heart, from which all unclean things spring, and there you meet us with mercy. Grant that we may receive your mercy with thanksgiving and open arms this day. Amen.
Noel is a semi-retired Lutheran pastor, writer, teacher and professional supervisor. He is married to Kirsten, a medical doctor, and they have three children and nine grandchildren. They also have two cats.