what's on
Sunday 11 January - Bible Study (after the 9:00am service)
Sunday 25 January - Bible Study (after the 9:00am service)
Wednesday 28 January - Young at Heart (10:30am)
Sunday 25 January - Bible Study (after the 9:00am service)
Wednesday 28 January - Young at Heart (10:30am)
Luther’s Interpretation of Ecclesiastes: The Freedom of Living in God’s Present
(1 january)
Dear brothers and sisters, in the Creed we confess “God the Father Almighty,” yet the meaning of almighty has often been softened or limited. Some traditions bind God’s power to the law, making it seem conditional or partial. Luther, however, presents God’s almightiness differently: when it is truly given to the sinner through the preached Word, it does not terrify but liberates.
Without a preacher, God’s almightiness remains frightening; the sinner instinctively reduces it to something less, “partly mighty” or “a little bit mighty”, because raw divine power accuses and exposes human weakness. The popular evangelical use of Matthew 19:26, “with God all things are possible”, often misses the context. It is turned into a motivational slogan printed on jerseys, implying that God’s power becomes available if one tries hard enough. But Jesus spoke these words about entrance into the kingdom of heaven, a matter of pure promise, not human effort.
For Luther, “all things are possible with God” means all God’s things are necessary. God operates only in the mode of necessity; He does not deal in mere possibility. His promises are certain, and even His commands carry the force of necessity because they are His Word. Human life, therefore, is not lived in a world of contingency where outcomes depend on our striving. Regret over the past and anxiety about the future arise precisely from imagining that things could have been or might yet be different.
God’s necessity does not doom us or reduce us to puppets. Instead, as Luther shows in his 1526 lectures on Ecclesiastes, delivered immediately after completing The Bondage of the Will, it frees us to live in the present. For the first time, we neither look back in regret nor forward in fear. We learn what everyone claims to want: to live happily in the present moment.
Aristotle located happiness in the future, in the eventual achievement of a goal. Bucket lists reflect the same mindset: only when everything is checked off will one be ready to die. Luther calls this a profound untruth. God’s absolute necessity gives the present as a gift, removing both the anxiety of the future and the regret of the past.
The Christian life is therefore not striving followed by penance when striving fails, as Erasmus portrayed it. It is the happy use of creation in the present. Ecclesiastes has often been misunderstood as a book of despair or as a cautionary tale for strivers. Solomon appears to give up because his efforts yield nothing. Yet Luther reads it as the exact opposite: Solomon discovers the limits of human intellect and will, the very faculties that scholastic theology treated as the remaining good in fallen humanity.
Everything “under the sun” is vanity—not because creation itself is evil, but because human wisdom and will cannot connect us to God. Only faith does that. Wisdom, properly understood, is the fear of the Lord, which is faith itself.
Luther highlights Ecclesiastes 3:1: “For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven.” Most translations render the Hebrew ḥēp̱eṣ as “matter” or “purpose,” but Luther insists it means “delight.” The verse is not about a time for every human effort or act of will. It is about God’s gracious bestowal: there is a season and a time for every delight under heaven.
This stands in direct opposition to free will. Human efforts are unreliable; they cannot secure the future we desire. We were not placed on earth to produce a future. Dominion over creation, promised in Genesis, is not the power to bend things to our desires. It is the freedom to use what God gives in the present without anxiety or effort.
Freedom, therefore, is not the ability to pursue whatever we want. True freedom is the gift that lets us live in the present, trusting that God provides all things at the proper hour and in the proper way. Faith commits everything to God and enjoys present things without turning them into objects of lust or tools for securing tomorrow.
Solomon lists the famous examples: a time to be born, to plant, to lose, to die. Everything is beautiful in its time (Eccl 3:11). God has put eternity into man’s heart, yet in such a way that we cannot discover what God has done from beginning to end. Theology is not given the full blueprint of God’s plan. God gives the present, freely, so that we neither wait for something still lacking nor mourn something lost.
The devil’s original lie was that God was withholding knowledge, keeping humanity in the dark. Luther answers through Solomon: No, God is freeing us to be creatures rather than pretending to be the Creator. Only in faith do we cease trying to control past and future. The future belongs to God’s promise; because He favours us in Christ, we are certain of it. That certainty opens the present.
The whole world is ours, provided we do not prescribe to God the time or manner of its use. We possess nothing to secure our future, but receive everything to enjoy now. Happiness is not future; it is present. Sinful humans find the present boring and always chase tomorrow. Yet the present is where all the action is. “Ich habe genug”, I have enough.
Even toil, the curse pronounced on Adam, becomes the arena of enjoyment when received as God’s gift. Other people cease to be threats or mere means to our goals. They become neighbours to whom we can give, fathers and mothers who bestow rather than hoard.
Luther’s reading of Ecclesiastes thus displays the shape of the Christian life: faith receiving God’s almighty necessity, committing all things to Him, and delighting in the good creation He places before us moment by moment. Vanity is overcome not by greater effort, but by the preached Word that bestows the present as pure gift.
Without a preacher, God’s almightiness remains frightening; the sinner instinctively reduces it to something less, “partly mighty” or “a little bit mighty”, because raw divine power accuses and exposes human weakness. The popular evangelical use of Matthew 19:26, “with God all things are possible”, often misses the context. It is turned into a motivational slogan printed on jerseys, implying that God’s power becomes available if one tries hard enough. But Jesus spoke these words about entrance into the kingdom of heaven, a matter of pure promise, not human effort.
For Luther, “all things are possible with God” means all God’s things are necessary. God operates only in the mode of necessity; He does not deal in mere possibility. His promises are certain, and even His commands carry the force of necessity because they are His Word. Human life, therefore, is not lived in a world of contingency where outcomes depend on our striving. Regret over the past and anxiety about the future arise precisely from imagining that things could have been or might yet be different.
God’s necessity does not doom us or reduce us to puppets. Instead, as Luther shows in his 1526 lectures on Ecclesiastes, delivered immediately after completing The Bondage of the Will, it frees us to live in the present. For the first time, we neither look back in regret nor forward in fear. We learn what everyone claims to want: to live happily in the present moment.
Aristotle located happiness in the future, in the eventual achievement of a goal. Bucket lists reflect the same mindset: only when everything is checked off will one be ready to die. Luther calls this a profound untruth. God’s absolute necessity gives the present as a gift, removing both the anxiety of the future and the regret of the past.
The Christian life is therefore not striving followed by penance when striving fails, as Erasmus portrayed it. It is the happy use of creation in the present. Ecclesiastes has often been misunderstood as a book of despair or as a cautionary tale for strivers. Solomon appears to give up because his efforts yield nothing. Yet Luther reads it as the exact opposite: Solomon discovers the limits of human intellect and will, the very faculties that scholastic theology treated as the remaining good in fallen humanity.
Everything “under the sun” is vanity—not because creation itself is evil, but because human wisdom and will cannot connect us to God. Only faith does that. Wisdom, properly understood, is the fear of the Lord, which is faith itself.
Luther highlights Ecclesiastes 3:1: “For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven.” Most translations render the Hebrew ḥēp̱eṣ as “matter” or “purpose,” but Luther insists it means “delight.” The verse is not about a time for every human effort or act of will. It is about God’s gracious bestowal: there is a season and a time for every delight under heaven.
This stands in direct opposition to free will. Human efforts are unreliable; they cannot secure the future we desire. We were not placed on earth to produce a future. Dominion over creation, promised in Genesis, is not the power to bend things to our desires. It is the freedom to use what God gives in the present without anxiety or effort.
Freedom, therefore, is not the ability to pursue whatever we want. True freedom is the gift that lets us live in the present, trusting that God provides all things at the proper hour and in the proper way. Faith commits everything to God and enjoys present things without turning them into objects of lust or tools for securing tomorrow.
Solomon lists the famous examples: a time to be born, to plant, to lose, to die. Everything is beautiful in its time (Eccl 3:11). God has put eternity into man’s heart, yet in such a way that we cannot discover what God has done from beginning to end. Theology is not given the full blueprint of God’s plan. God gives the present, freely, so that we neither wait for something still lacking nor mourn something lost.
The devil’s original lie was that God was withholding knowledge, keeping humanity in the dark. Luther answers through Solomon: No, God is freeing us to be creatures rather than pretending to be the Creator. Only in faith do we cease trying to control past and future. The future belongs to God’s promise; because He favours us in Christ, we are certain of it. That certainty opens the present.
The whole world is ours, provided we do not prescribe to God the time or manner of its use. We possess nothing to secure our future, but receive everything to enjoy now. Happiness is not future; it is present. Sinful humans find the present boring and always chase tomorrow. Yet the present is where all the action is. “Ich habe genug”, I have enough.
Even toil, the curse pronounced on Adam, becomes the arena of enjoyment when received as God’s gift. Other people cease to be threats or mere means to our goals. They become neighbours to whom we can give, fathers and mothers who bestow rather than hoard.
Luther’s reading of Ecclesiastes thus displays the shape of the Christian life: faith receiving God’s almighty necessity, committing all things to Him, and delighting in the good creation He places before us moment by moment. Vanity is overcome not by greater effort, but by the preached Word that bestows the present as pure gift.
epiphany (4 january)
As we celebrate the Epiphany of Our Lord, consider those enigmatic Wise Men from the East, not kings or priests, but natural scientists chasing stars, convinced the universe's laws held the key to divine truth. They journeyed to Jerusalem, expecting a throne-room tyrant like Herod, only to stumble upon a babe in Bethlehem. What if our own quests for certainty, through science, success, or self-improvement, lead us to the same shocking encounter? Epiphany dares us to question: are we seeking a god of rules, or the God who shatters them?
These Magi, Gentiles by birth, had no preachers, no prophets, no law like Israel. Yet a faint promise echoed from Abraham, drawing them to the Christ-child. They arrived with gold, frankincense, and myrrh, sacrifices meant to appease an angry deity, but found instead a shepherd-king who demands nothing but faith. Provocatively, Luther calls them out: their worship wasn't in offerings, but in receiving mercy. How often do we, like them, cling to our treasures, thinking they earn God's favour, when true worship is simply hearing and believing the gospel?
Epiphany unveils the light not just for Jews, but for outsiders like us. While Israel slumbered post-Christmas, these foreigners pursued the promise, discovering that God's boundary around Judah extends eastward, to us. No DNA required; faith in the promise makes us Abraham's heirs. Pastorally, dear flock, if you've felt excluded, unworthy, or lost in the dark, this feast invites you in. The star stops over the manger, overwhelming with joy, because the gospel isn't earned; it's given.
In this child, God pardons your iniquity through mercy alone. Rest in this promise: you are now children of Abraham by faith, and thus children of God Himself, forgiven, included, and free forever.
We Pray For:
† The church to boldly confess the name of Christ before the world.
† Those who pass on the apostolic message of the gospel.
† Missionaries, both in other countries and here at home.
† All nations, that the light of Christ shines on them and they may live in peace with one another.
† Our own nation, that its leaders and people pursue peace and justice.
† Those who say they are Christians but do not practice their faith.
† Those who reject the gospel, that they may repent and live.
† Those who are wealthy, that they share their wealth as a gift to the poor.
These Magi, Gentiles by birth, had no preachers, no prophets, no law like Israel. Yet a faint promise echoed from Abraham, drawing them to the Christ-child. They arrived with gold, frankincense, and myrrh, sacrifices meant to appease an angry deity, but found instead a shepherd-king who demands nothing but faith. Provocatively, Luther calls them out: their worship wasn't in offerings, but in receiving mercy. How often do we, like them, cling to our treasures, thinking they earn God's favour, when true worship is simply hearing and believing the gospel?
Epiphany unveils the light not just for Jews, but for outsiders like us. While Israel slumbered post-Christmas, these foreigners pursued the promise, discovering that God's boundary around Judah extends eastward, to us. No DNA required; faith in the promise makes us Abraham's heirs. Pastorally, dear flock, if you've felt excluded, unworthy, or lost in the dark, this feast invites you in. The star stops over the manger, overwhelming with joy, because the gospel isn't earned; it's given.
In this child, God pardons your iniquity through mercy alone. Rest in this promise: you are now children of Abraham by faith, and thus children of God Himself, forgiven, included, and free forever.
We Pray For:
† The church to boldly confess the name of Christ before the world.
† Those who pass on the apostolic message of the gospel.
† Missionaries, both in other countries and here at home.
† All nations, that the light of Christ shines on them and they may live in peace with one another.
† Our own nation, that its leaders and people pursue peace and justice.
† Those who say they are Christians but do not practice their faith.
† Those who reject the gospel, that they may repent and live.
† Those who are wealthy, that they share their wealth as a gift to the poor.
baptism of our lord (11 january)
The scene at the Jordan is scandalous. John the Baptist, fire-breathing prophet, caller of repentance, tries to stop Jesus from being baptised. “I need to be baptised by You,” he protests. Why the resistance? Because John knows baptism is for sinners, and Jesus… shouldn’t need it.
Yet Jesus steps into the water anyway, insisting it is necessary “to fulfill all righteousness.” He takes the place of sinners, not because He is guilty, but because He chooses to carry our guilt. In that moment, the sinless Son becomes the greatest sinner, bearing the weight of the world.
Then heaven breaks open. The Spirit descends like a dove, and the Father’s voice thunders: “This is My beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.”
Jesus needed to hear those words, because He was already carrying your sin toward the cross. And in your baptism, the same thing happens: you are buried with Him into His death, and raised with Him to new life. The Father’s voice that spoke over Jesus now speaks over you.
So hear it again, clearly and personally:
You are God’s beloved child, with whom He is well pleased.
Not because you have earned it, but because Christ has taken your place.
Yet Jesus steps into the water anyway, insisting it is necessary “to fulfill all righteousness.” He takes the place of sinners, not because He is guilty, but because He chooses to carry our guilt. In that moment, the sinless Son becomes the greatest sinner, bearing the weight of the world.
Then heaven breaks open. The Spirit descends like a dove, and the Father’s voice thunders: “This is My beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.”
Jesus needed to hear those words, because He was already carrying your sin toward the cross. And in your baptism, the same thing happens: you are buried with Him into His death, and raised with Him to new life. The Father’s voice that spoke over Jesus now speaks over you.
So hear it again, clearly and personally:
You are God’s beloved child, with whom He is well pleased.
Not because you have earned it, but because Christ has taken your place.
second sunday after epiphany (18 january)
John the Baptist didn’t mince words. After baptising Jesus, he didn’t launch into a new self-help programme or a list of rules to prepare for a distant second coming. He simply pointed his long bony finger and declared: “Behold the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!”
Jesus has come. He is here. He is not hovering somewhere far off, waiting for you to tidy up your life before He returns. The Old Testament prophets kept saying, “He’s coming, He’s coming.” John says, “Here He is.”
That changes everything. Stop waiting. Stop striving to make Jesus “your personal friend” so He won’t be angry later. The Lamb has already carried your sin – every failure, every doubt, every hidden shame – to the cross. It is finished.
So what do we do? We look where John points: to Jesus in His Word and in the bread and wine He gives us. When we hear “This is my body given for you,” that’s the Lamb speaking to you. When water is poured in baptism, that’s the Lamb washing you clean.
Let the disciples’ mistake be a warning: don’t stand around gawking or trying to impress Him with your efforts. Just follow. The Messiah didn’t wait for you to find Him – He found you.
And here is the promise: Behold the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world – your sin. He is here for you, right now. You are forgiven.
Jesus has come. He is here. He is not hovering somewhere far off, waiting for you to tidy up your life before He returns. The Old Testament prophets kept saying, “He’s coming, He’s coming.” John says, “Here He is.”
That changes everything. Stop waiting. Stop striving to make Jesus “your personal friend” so He won’t be angry later. The Lamb has already carried your sin – every failure, every doubt, every hidden shame – to the cross. It is finished.
So what do we do? We look where John points: to Jesus in His Word and in the bread and wine He gives us. When we hear “This is my body given for you,” that’s the Lamb speaking to you. When water is poured in baptism, that’s the Lamb washing you clean.
Let the disciples’ mistake be a warning: don’t stand around gawking or trying to impress Him with your efforts. Just follow. The Messiah didn’t wait for you to find Him – He found you.
And here is the promise: Behold the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world – your sin. He is here for you, right now. You are forgiven.