what's on
Starting Sunday 21 June - Sunday Winter Warmers soup Sundays after the service
Wednesday 24 June - Young at Heart (10:30am)
Wednesday 24 June - Young at Heart (10:30am)
a message for the people of god (7 june)
Jesus walked up to a tax booth, looked a notorious sinner named Matthew square in the eye, and said, “Follow me.” Then he sat down to eat with a whole crowd of tax collectors and sinners. The “righteous” were outraged. Why would the holy teacher eat with such riffraff? Because, as Jesus declared, “I came not to call the righteous, but sinners.” This is not a polite invitation to improve yourself. It is a deliberate, scandalous rescue of the undeserving.
We constantly twist this story into a moral challenge: “Go and be more inclusive,” or “Try harder to love the unlovable.” But Jesus is not recruiting volunteers for a social justice project. He is not waiting for sinners to clean up their act. He comes to them exactly as they are greedy, compromised, lost and throws a banquet. The Pharisees, with all their religious credentials, are left on the outside looking in.
This is what Hosea meant when God said, “I desire mercy and not sacrifice.” Mercy here is not vague kindness or charity. It is Christ taking your sin, death, and failure upon himself in the great happy exchange and giving you his righteousness, innocence, and life in return. The same promise that justified Abraham by faith, not law, is now reclining at table with sinners.
So stop pretending you belong at the table because of your decent behaviour or church attendance. The gospel is far more provocative than that. Jesus specialises in calling the unqualified. If you feel righteous on your own, you are in the wrong queue. But if you know yourself to be a sinner, you are exactly the one he came for.
The Promise: Your sins are forgiven. Come to the table. The Bridegroom is here.
We Pray For:
† Al Christians, that they may live out their faith in love for God and the world.
† The church, that it would bring the comfort of God's compassion to all who are suffering or grieving.
† Governments to protect the innocent and help their citizens in need.
† All who are persecuted for preaching God's word.
† All who have lost someone near and dear to them.
† All children who are sick, and for their parents.
We constantly twist this story into a moral challenge: “Go and be more inclusive,” or “Try harder to love the unlovable.” But Jesus is not recruiting volunteers for a social justice project. He is not waiting for sinners to clean up their act. He comes to them exactly as they are greedy, compromised, lost and throws a banquet. The Pharisees, with all their religious credentials, are left on the outside looking in.
This is what Hosea meant when God said, “I desire mercy and not sacrifice.” Mercy here is not vague kindness or charity. It is Christ taking your sin, death, and failure upon himself in the great happy exchange and giving you his righteousness, innocence, and life in return. The same promise that justified Abraham by faith, not law, is now reclining at table with sinners.
So stop pretending you belong at the table because of your decent behaviour or church attendance. The gospel is far more provocative than that. Jesus specialises in calling the unqualified. If you feel righteous on your own, you are in the wrong queue. But if you know yourself to be a sinner, you are exactly the one he came for.
The Promise: Your sins are forgiven. Come to the table. The Bridegroom is here.
We Pray For:
† Al Christians, that they may live out their faith in love for God and the world.
† The church, that it would bring the comfort of God's compassion to all who are suffering or grieving.
† Governments to protect the innocent and help their citizens in need.
† All who are persecuted for preaching God's word.
† All who have lost someone near and dear to them.
† All children who are sick, and for their parents.
third sunday after pentecost (14 june)
Beloved saints, Jesus looks upon our harassed and helpless crowds, not with disgust, but with deep compassion. Like sheep without a shepherd, we are scattered by sin, burdened by the law, and exhausted by our own failed efforts. The harvest is plentiful, yet the labourers are few. This is no time for polite religion or self-improvement projects. The Lord of the harvest is sending real help.
Jesus is not Moses 2.0, intensifying the law or calling us to stricter separation. He is the end of the law for righteousness to all who believe. He does not train disciples to master Torah. He gives sinners, tax collectors, zealots, even future betrayers like Judas, His own authority. This is provocative: the Church’s true mission is not moral cleanup, but liberation. The kingdom of heaven has drawn near, not to demand more, but to deliver what we cannot achieve.
Preaching, therefore, is exorcism. Your pastors are not life coaches shining a light on your inner struggles. We are sent to cast out the unclean spirit of accusation that binds you. Heal the sick. Raise the dead. Cleanse the leper. Forgive sins. You received this authority without paying; now give it freely. The strong man is bound. The devil is silenced. The law that once condemned you has met its end in Christ.
Dear friends, stop turning inward to find the light or the law written on your heart. Look outward to the One who eats with sinners and calls them apostles. Whether you feel like a lost sheep or a weary labourer, Jesus has chosen you precisely in your weakness. He does not retain authority for Himself, He gives it away so that you might be free.
The kingdom of heaven is at hand. Your sins are forgiven for Christ’s sake. Go in this promise: you are harvested, healed, and sent.
Jesus is not Moses 2.0, intensifying the law or calling us to stricter separation. He is the end of the law for righteousness to all who believe. He does not train disciples to master Torah. He gives sinners, tax collectors, zealots, even future betrayers like Judas, His own authority. This is provocative: the Church’s true mission is not moral cleanup, but liberation. The kingdom of heaven has drawn near, not to demand more, but to deliver what we cannot achieve.
Preaching, therefore, is exorcism. Your pastors are not life coaches shining a light on your inner struggles. We are sent to cast out the unclean spirit of accusation that binds you. Heal the sick. Raise the dead. Cleanse the leper. Forgive sins. You received this authority without paying; now give it freely. The strong man is bound. The devil is silenced. The law that once condemned you has met its end in Christ.
Dear friends, stop turning inward to find the light or the law written on your heart. Look outward to the One who eats with sinners and calls them apostles. Whether you feel like a lost sheep or a weary labourer, Jesus has chosen you precisely in your weakness. He does not retain authority for Himself, He gives it away so that you might be free.
The kingdom of heaven is at hand. Your sins are forgiven for Christ’s sake. Go in this promise: you are harvested, healed, and sent.
fourth sunday after pentecost (21 june)
Jesus does not send his preachers into the world to make everyone feel warm and fuzzy. According to Matthew 10, when the Gospel is truly proclaimed, families are divided, fathers turn against sons, and you will be hated “for my name’s sake.” That is not a mistake or an unfortunate side-effect, it is the sharp edge of God’s Word at work. The old Adam dies hard, and the comfortable lies we cling to die harder. If your preaching leaves everything undisturbed, you may well be preaching something other than Christ.
Yet our Lord does not abandon his servants to this storm. He who receives you receives me, Jesus declares. The pastor in the pulpit is not offering clever opinions or moral advice. He stands in Christ’s place, so that when the Word is spoken — killing and making alive — it is Christ himself speaking to you. This is the tremendous authority of the office: the same Lord who was called Beelzebul now works through frail human lips to forgive sins and bestow the Holy Spirit.
Do not be surprised, then, when opposition comes, even from those closest to you. Do not fear those who can kill the body but cannot touch the soul. Fear God alone, who in Christ has already conquered death for you. The hairs on your head are numbered. Your Father knows exactly what you face, and he has not left you alone.
Stand firm, therefore, and receive the Word with joy. For the one who endures to the end will be saved — and in that Word you receive Christ himself, with all his gifts of forgiveness, life, and salvation.
“He who receives you receives me.” That is the promise. Hold fast to it.
Yet our Lord does not abandon his servants to this storm. He who receives you receives me, Jesus declares. The pastor in the pulpit is not offering clever opinions or moral advice. He stands in Christ’s place, so that when the Word is spoken — killing and making alive — it is Christ himself speaking to you. This is the tremendous authority of the office: the same Lord who was called Beelzebul now works through frail human lips to forgive sins and bestow the Holy Spirit.
Do not be surprised, then, when opposition comes, even from those closest to you. Do not fear those who can kill the body but cannot touch the soul. Fear God alone, who in Christ has already conquered death for you. The hairs on your head are numbered. Your Father knows exactly what you face, and he has not left you alone.
Stand firm, therefore, and receive the Word with joy. For the one who endures to the end will be saved — and in that Word you receive Christ himself, with all his gifts of forgiveness, life, and salvation.
“He who receives you receives me.” That is the promise. Hold fast to it.
fifth sunday after pentecost (28 june)
“Whoever receives you receives me… and whoever gives one of these little ones even a cup of cold water because he is a disciple… will by no means lose his reward.” (Matthew 10:40-42)
It sounds almost ridiculous. Christ ties Himself so tightly to His sent servants that welcoming the preacher, not because he’s impressive, but because he carries Christ’s Word, is the same as welcoming Christ Himself, and the Father who sent Him. No glamour required. No celebrity pastor. Just the ordinary, fallible mouth through which the living Christ still speaks forgiveness, life, and salvation.
This is provocative in our age of brands, spectacles, and self-made spirituality. We’d prefer a flashy messenger or a comfortable message that leaves our old Adam undisturbed. Yet Jesus will have none of it. Receive the one He sends, and you receive Him. Reject or treat lightly the Word delivered in your midst, and you are turning away from the very Lord who died and rose for you.
Luther saw this clearly: to receive a prophet, a righteous one, even the least disciple, is to stand equal with them in the gift of the Gospel. It’s not about earning points with God. It’s about the Father’s gracious remembrance. Even a cup of cold water given in faith to one of Christ’s little ones is not forgotten.
Dear friends, this cuts two ways, both full of comfort. First, it dignifies our calling to hear the Word. When you listen to the preaching, when you let it convict and console you, you are not merely enduring another sermon, you are receiving Christ. Second, it dignifies the small, ordinary acts of love within the body of Christ: a listening ear, practical help, hospitality, support for the ministry. These are not insignificant. They are where the kingdom hides.
In a world that measures success by size and noise, Christ measures by faithful reception and quiet mercy. The old Adam wants reward by wages. The Christian lives by gift.
And here is the promise that will not fail: Whoever receives Christ’s own, even in the smallest way, will by no means lose his reward. The Father sees. The Son remembers. The Spirit works. Come and receive Him afresh. Then go and give freely.
It sounds almost ridiculous. Christ ties Himself so tightly to His sent servants that welcoming the preacher, not because he’s impressive, but because he carries Christ’s Word, is the same as welcoming Christ Himself, and the Father who sent Him. No glamour required. No celebrity pastor. Just the ordinary, fallible mouth through which the living Christ still speaks forgiveness, life, and salvation.
This is provocative in our age of brands, spectacles, and self-made spirituality. We’d prefer a flashy messenger or a comfortable message that leaves our old Adam undisturbed. Yet Jesus will have none of it. Receive the one He sends, and you receive Him. Reject or treat lightly the Word delivered in your midst, and you are turning away from the very Lord who died and rose for you.
Luther saw this clearly: to receive a prophet, a righteous one, even the least disciple, is to stand equal with them in the gift of the Gospel. It’s not about earning points with God. It’s about the Father’s gracious remembrance. Even a cup of cold water given in faith to one of Christ’s little ones is not forgotten.
Dear friends, this cuts two ways, both full of comfort. First, it dignifies our calling to hear the Word. When you listen to the preaching, when you let it convict and console you, you are not merely enduring another sermon, you are receiving Christ. Second, it dignifies the small, ordinary acts of love within the body of Christ: a listening ear, practical help, hospitality, support for the ministry. These are not insignificant. They are where the kingdom hides.
In a world that measures success by size and noise, Christ measures by faithful reception and quiet mercy. The old Adam wants reward by wages. The Christian lives by gift.
And here is the promise that will not fail: Whoever receives Christ’s own, even in the smallest way, will by no means lose his reward. The Father sees. The Son remembers. The Spirit works. Come and receive Him afresh. Then go and give freely.