what's on
Sunday 5 & 19 July - Sunday Winter Warmers soup Sundays after the service
Sunday 12 July - Bible Study after the service
Wednesday 29 July - Young at Heart (10:30am)
Sunday 12 July - Bible Study after the service
Wednesday 29 July - Young at Heart (10:30am)
sixth sunday after pentecost (5 july)
Many of us carry heavy burdens, the weight of our own failings, the wounds inflicted by others, the unrelenting pressures of daily life, or the quiet exhaustion of trying to be enough. These yokes can feel crushing, and on our own we grow weary.
Yet in the Gospel for the 6th Sunday after Pentecost, Jesus does not demand that we try harder or carry more. Instead, the One to whom the Father has given all authority offers us the most gracious exchange: He takes our heavy burden upon himself and gives us his own yoke, one that is easy and light. He invites us to come to him and find true rest for our souls.
This is the heart of the Christian life. In Christ we receive forgiveness, freedom, and the strength to extend that same gentle mercy to others, beginning in our homes and in our church and in the world.
“Come to me, all who labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” (Matthew 11:28-30).
May you hear and receive this promise today.
We Pray For:
† The preaching of the true gospel throughout the world: Christ and him crucified.
† The people of God, the church, throughout the world, that God's glory be sought and not humanity's.
† People of influence, political leaders, all governing bodies, especially those who influence ethical decisions.
† Peace and reconciliation between families, peoples, and countries.
† World welfare organisations, that they continue to be an avenue through which God can provide for people.
Yet in the Gospel for the 6th Sunday after Pentecost, Jesus does not demand that we try harder or carry more. Instead, the One to whom the Father has given all authority offers us the most gracious exchange: He takes our heavy burden upon himself and gives us his own yoke, one that is easy and light. He invites us to come to him and find true rest for our souls.
This is the heart of the Christian life. In Christ we receive forgiveness, freedom, and the strength to extend that same gentle mercy to others, beginning in our homes and in our church and in the world.
“Come to me, all who labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” (Matthew 11:28-30).
May you hear and receive this promise today.
We Pray For:
† The preaching of the true gospel throughout the world: Christ and him crucified.
† The people of God, the church, throughout the world, that God's glory be sought and not humanity's.
† People of influence, political leaders, all governing bodies, especially those who influence ethical decisions.
† Peace and reconciliation between families, peoples, and countries.
† World welfare organisations, that they continue to be an avenue through which God can provide for people.
seventh sunday after pentecost (12 july)
Like a generous July downpour, God’s Word for this Sunday overflows with startling abundance. We live braced for drought and shortage, always guarding seed, rationing hope, fearing the bucket will run dry. But Luther knew better: God is surpassingly rich in grace. The sower in Matthew 13 flings seed wildly across every soil, path, rocks, thorns, and good ground alike, without calculating or clutching. This is no careful farmer; this is Christ on the loose, pouring out His Word with reckless divine generosity.
Yet here’s the provocation: three-quarters of the seed lands where it seems wasted. Parables are not gentle stories to inspire better soil; they expose hard hearts that refuse to hear. Jesus Himself says He speaks in parables so that “seeing they do not see, and hearing they do not hear.” The Word does its work, both judging and saving. It confronts our self-made shortages, our stony resistance, our choking worries. No amount of soil improvement will suffice. The power lies not in us, but in the Seed Himself.
This is unsettling, and rightly so. We cannot bootstrap our way into good soil. Yet the same Word that scatters so freely also accomplishes what it purposes. Isaiah promises it will not return empty but will water the earth, turning desert into singing. In Christ we are no longer slaves to fear or debtors to the flesh. The Spirit of adoption cries “Abba, Father” within us. We are heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ rich beyond measure even when cancer, drought, or unbelief presses close.
Beloved, stop clutching your seed bag. The Sower has already sown. His Word is at work in you, breaking up fallow ground, softening what is hard, and raising life where death seemed to reign. Trust the promise, not your soil quality.
For you the holy Seed, Jesus Christ, has come. He has taken your burden and given you His. Your sins are now His; His forgiveness, life, and salvation are now yours. Receive them with joy. God’s peace be with you.
Yet here’s the provocation: three-quarters of the seed lands where it seems wasted. Parables are not gentle stories to inspire better soil; they expose hard hearts that refuse to hear. Jesus Himself says He speaks in parables so that “seeing they do not see, and hearing they do not hear.” The Word does its work, both judging and saving. It confronts our self-made shortages, our stony resistance, our choking worries. No amount of soil improvement will suffice. The power lies not in us, but in the Seed Himself.
This is unsettling, and rightly so. We cannot bootstrap our way into good soil. Yet the same Word that scatters so freely also accomplishes what it purposes. Isaiah promises it will not return empty but will water the earth, turning desert into singing. In Christ we are no longer slaves to fear or debtors to the flesh. The Spirit of adoption cries “Abba, Father” within us. We are heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ rich beyond measure even when cancer, drought, or unbelief presses close.
Beloved, stop clutching your seed bag. The Sower has already sown. His Word is at work in you, breaking up fallow ground, softening what is hard, and raising life where death seemed to reign. Trust the promise, not your soil quality.
For you the holy Seed, Jesus Christ, has come. He has taken your burden and given you His. Your sins are now His; His forgiveness, life, and salvation are now yours. Receive them with joy. God’s peace be with you.
eighth sunday after pentecost (19 july)
Jesus tells us a parable this Sunday that hits close to home. The kingdoms like a paddock where good wheat and cheeky weeds sprout up together until the big harvest. Sounds familiar, eh? We look around our own mob and spot the weeds, those prickly characters who rub us up the wrong way and straight away we want to grab the secateurs and start snipping. Yet the Master says, “Hands off.” Pull too soon and you’ll tear out the good stuff with the bad. It’s a sharp poke in the ribs for us who reckon we’ve got the eyes to judge what belongs and what doesn’t.
That “no” isn’t soft-soap; it’s the law doing its proper work, holding up the mirror so we see our own itchy fingers. We’d love a neat, pure church where everyone toes the line, and the troublemakers are shown the door. But Jesus tells us the field is the world, and the church right in the middle of it is a right old mix, saints and sinners' side by side, sometimes in the same heart. The sorting job belongs to the angels at the end of the age, not to you or me this arvo. Trying to play reaper now only makes a bigger mess.
The waiting isn’t empty time, though. It’s the season the Master has given for the good seed to be sown and to grow. While the weeds do their worst, the Gospel keeps getting preached, baptism, supper, absolution, right in the middle of the tangle. That’s why we don’t give up when the church feels more like a battlefield than a garden. The delay is mercy, pure and simple, buying time for the Word to do what only the Word can do: make wheat out of weeds.
So, lift your eyes, mate. The promise stands sure: “Then the righteous will shine like the sun in the kingdom of their Father.” And here’s how it happens, you hear the word that makes you righteous: “I forgive you on account of Jesus Christ.” That’s the good news that turns the whole mixed-up field into a harvest of light.
That “no” isn’t soft-soap; it’s the law doing its proper work, holding up the mirror so we see our own itchy fingers. We’d love a neat, pure church where everyone toes the line, and the troublemakers are shown the door. But Jesus tells us the field is the world, and the church right in the middle of it is a right old mix, saints and sinners' side by side, sometimes in the same heart. The sorting job belongs to the angels at the end of the age, not to you or me this arvo. Trying to play reaper now only makes a bigger mess.
The waiting isn’t empty time, though. It’s the season the Master has given for the good seed to be sown and to grow. While the weeds do their worst, the Gospel keeps getting preached, baptism, supper, absolution, right in the middle of the tangle. That’s why we don’t give up when the church feels more like a battlefield than a garden. The delay is mercy, pure and simple, buying time for the Word to do what only the Word can do: make wheat out of weeds.
So, lift your eyes, mate. The promise stands sure: “Then the righteous will shine like the sun in the kingdom of their Father.” And here’s how it happens, you hear the word that makes you righteous: “I forgive you on account of Jesus Christ.” That’s the good news that turns the whole mixed-up field into a harvest of light.