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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.
Where God is at work
by Josh Hauser
Click here to download your printable verse to carry with you today.
Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth (Matthew 5:5).
Read Matthew 5:1–12
With so much going on in the world, it is easy to start questioning, ‘Where is God working?’ This week, that is the question we want to start answering.
In the Bible reading for today, Jesus says in verse five, ‘Blessed are the meek.’
While scrolling social media recently, I came across a post about the word used to describe meekness. It talked about the word used in Scripture for meek, which is praus. It claimed that we are using the word all wrong. According to the post, praus was used to describe a trained warhorse, powerful but under control. This then changed the meaning of the verse to suggest that ‘Blessed are the meek’ really means blessed are those who control their power and submit it to God.
Isn’t this a demonstration of the human condition?
We discuss how much shackled power we have, rather than focusing on the Creator who gives strength. When we hear the word ‘meek’, we do not want to appear meek. We see it as a negative. So, people look at the word praus and try everything they can to avoid the reality of what Jesus is actually saying.
Unsurprisingly, in this famous passage known as the Beatitudes, Jesus is not saying that we have all the power and then graciously put it aside to follow God. Jesus is saying that the people who are meek, poor, mournful and persecuted are valued and looked after by God with his unending grace. This is where God is found. This is where God is at work.
God is found with those in need and those who are struggling. So, what does this mean for us?
Simply this: This is where we need to be found, too. With those who are struggling and needing care and support. Because, at some point in life, everyone feels meek, poor, sad, persecuted and in need of help.
Dear God, thank you for seeing us when the world overlooks us. Thank you for calling us blessed because we are yours. Help us to see others the way you do, so that we can be your hands and feet in this world. In your name, we pray. Amen.
Josh lives in the western suburbs of Melbourne with his wife, Alice, and their two children. Josh enjoys time with his family, the beach and sports of any kind. Josh works at a school, where he feels it is a privilege to share the gospel with the next generation.
Who may dwell with you?
by Anastasia Kim
Click here to download your printable verse to carry with you today.
Whoever does these things shall never be shaken (Psalm 15:5b).
Read Psalm 15
Psalm 15 asks a question that unsettles anyone who takes faith seriously: ‘Who may dwell in the Lord’s tent? Who may live on God’s holy hill?’
The answer given is searching and demanding. The one who may stand in God’s presence is described as blameless, truthful, careful with words, faithful to promises, unwilling to harm others and resistant to corruption. This is not a casual portrait of goodness. It is weighty. It presses close.
When I hear these words, I do not feel immediately reassured. I feel exposed. To live without causing harm, to speak truth from the heart, to keep an oath even when it hurts. These are not small virtues. They touch daily life, relationships, habits of speech and hidden motives. If dwelling in God’s presence depends on meeting these standards, the door seems firmly closed.
This is why the movement of Scripture matters. What Psalm 15 describes as a privilege once limited to priests – and only briefly – is now opened through Christ. Access to the Holy Place, and even the Holy of Holies, was once guarded by veils and sacrifice. In Jesus, that veil is torn. The Word becomes flesh and pitches his tent among us. God’s dwelling is no longer distant – it is given.
Grace does not make the psalm weightless. Being welcomed into God’s presence through Christ does not turn integrity into an optional extra. The cross does not trivialise our words, our promises, or the ways we harm one another. It takes it seriously enough to bear their cost.
Psalm 15 ends with a promise: the one who lives this way will not be shaken. Not because life is calm, but because life is anchored. Winds still blow. Storms still come. A life shaped by truth, faithfulness and love for the neighbour stands on solid ground.
I live in God’s presence because of Christ alone. I am still called to walk there with care, reverence and honesty, not lightly, not carelessly, but gratefully.
Gracious God, you welcome us into your presence through Jesus Christ alone. Teach us to live there with integrity, humility and love, held firm by your grace. 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.
At your word
by Anastasia Kim
Click here to download your printable verse to carry with you today.
Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing. Yet if you say so, I will let down the nets (Luke 5:5).
Read Luke 5:1–11
Miracles are often imagined as moments of triumph or reward. Scripture resists such a simple reading. In Luke 5, the miracle does not erase fatigue, nor does it confirm human competence. It exposes it.
Simon and his partners have already finished their work. The nets are washed. Failure has been accepted as final. Into that exhausted space, Jesus steps into Simon’s boat and uses it as his pulpit. Before any miracle occurs, Simon gives Jesus access to what is his. This first obedience is quiet, costly and easily overlooked.
There are days when my own nets feel just as washed and finished. Only after the teaching ends does Jesus speak a word that contradicts experience. ‘Put out into the deep water.’ Simon answers honestly. He names the emptiness of the night. He does not argue from expertise. He yields to a word that exceeds reason. ‘At your word.’
The catch that follows is overwhelming. Boats strain. Nets tear. But the true miracle is not abundance. It is recognition. Simon falls at Jesus’ knees, not in gratitude, but in fear. Confronted with holiness, he sees himself clearly. This is not shame for its own sake. It is the proper response to divine presence. Like Isaiah before the throne, Simon knows he does not belong here.
Jesus does not depart. He speaks the gospel. ‘Do not be afraid.’ The miracle does not bind Simon to success. It frees him from it. What follows is not stewardship advice or a strategy for growth, but a call that reorders life entirely. They leave the boats. They follow.
In a world trained to negotiate with God, this text restores reverence. We are not invited to manage grace, assess outcomes or protect our nets. We are called by a word that creates faith where there was only emptiness. Even the smallest obedience, offered without certainty, becomes the place where Christ reveals himself.
Lord Jesus Christ, speak your word into our tired places. Free us from fear, and call us again to trust you and follow, for our life rests in your grace alone. 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.