what's on
Sunday 11 May - Indwelling the Word (after the 9:00am service)
Sunday 25 May - Indwelling the Word (after the 9:00am service)
Wednesday 28 May - Young at Heart (10:30am)
Sunday 25 May - Indwelling the Word (after the 9:00am service)
Wednesday 28 May - Young at Heart (10:30am)
Empty nets, full grace (4 may)
In John 21, Peter and the disciples toil all night, their nets empty, their efforts futile. Sound familiar? We chase approval, stack up good deeds, or strive to prove our worth, only to come up short before God. Like Peter, we’d rather play priest, offering sacrifices to impress, than trust the promise of the risen Christ. But Jesus stands on the shore with a provocative question: “Children, do you have any fish?” Our honest “No” is where His grace begins.
Jesus doesn’t demand better effort or scold our failures. He fills the nets—153 fish, an abundance of grace—and serves breakfast, giving bread and fish freely. This is the Gospel: Christ provides what we lack, His forgiveness and life poured out for sinners, no merit required. His blood flows not to appease God but into our mouths in the Lord’s Supper, sealing His promise. The old religion of sacrifice is over; the new worship of grace has begun.
So, what now? Jesus turns to Peter, the betrayer, and commands, “Feed my sheep.” He calls us—forgiven failures—to share His gifts. Take the keys of forgiveness from your pocket and use them. Tell someone of Christ’s love. Come to His Table this Sunday, receive the fish He provides, and go feed His sheep with the Gospel. Your nets may be empty, but His grace overflows!
We Pray For:
† All Christians, that we may be fishers of people, casting out the net of the gospel.
† The church, that it would love Jesus and keep his word.
† The nations of the world, that the good news may be heard in every land.
† Reconciliation and harmony between all races, cultures and nation.
† Those who are sick, disabled, or elderly, and who must be cared for by others.
† Those who mourn, that God would wipe away all their tears.
† An end to death, suffering, pain, hunger and disease.
Jesus doesn’t demand better effort or scold our failures. He fills the nets—153 fish, an abundance of grace—and serves breakfast, giving bread and fish freely. This is the Gospel: Christ provides what we lack, His forgiveness and life poured out for sinners, no merit required. His blood flows not to appease God but into our mouths in the Lord’s Supper, sealing His promise. The old religion of sacrifice is over; the new worship of grace has begun.
So, what now? Jesus turns to Peter, the betrayer, and commands, “Feed my sheep.” He calls us—forgiven failures—to share His gifts. Take the keys of forgiveness from your pocket and use them. Tell someone of Christ’s love. Come to His Table this Sunday, receive the fish He provides, and go feed His sheep with the Gospel. Your nets may be empty, but His grace overflows!
We Pray For:
† All Christians, that we may be fishers of people, casting out the net of the gospel.
† The church, that it would love Jesus and keep his word.
† The nations of the world, that the good news may be heard in every land.
† Reconciliation and harmony between all races, cultures and nation.
† Those who are sick, disabled, or elderly, and who must be cared for by others.
† Those who mourn, that God would wipe away all their tears.
† An end to death, suffering, pain, hunger and disease.
mother's day blessing (11 may)
On this Mother’s Day, we give thanks for mothers, whose love mirrors Christ’s self-giving grace. May God bless you, mothers, with strength, joy, and the assurance that your labor in love is precious in His sight. May you rest in the Gospel promise that Christ fills your emptiness with His unending love. Amen.
glory in the cross, love in the truth (18 May)
Forget the world’s version of glory—triumph, applause, or Instagram-worthy sunsets. In John 13:31-35, Jesus declares His glory the moment Judas slinks off to betray Him. That’s right: betrayal, not victory, sets the cross in motion. God’s glory isn’t found in our success or self-preservation but in Christ’s death, where He takes our sin and rises to crush the devil. This is no motivational poster; it’s the raw, bloody truth of God’s mercy breaking through our failure.
Jesus then commands, “Love one another as I have loved you.” Sounds sweet, but don’t be fooled—this isn’t a call to warm fuzzies or blanket affirmation. Jesus’ love means suffering sin, not celebrating it. He forgives His betrayers, even as they abandon Him. We’re not the Messiah; we can’t die for sins. But we’re called to name sin—yes, call it what it is—and forgive it, not to win arguments or parade our inclusivity, but to bear the cross of mercy in a world that demands applause.
This love gets messy. You’ll face betrayal—at home, at work, maybe even in this church. Your instinct will be to strike back or paper over the hurt with “I’m okay, you’re okay.” Resist both. To love like Jesus is to suffer the wound, name the sin, and forgive it in His name. It’s not about fixing others; it’s about pointing them to the One who died for them. This is how the world knows we’re His disciples—not by our perfection, but by our cross-shaped love.
Take heart: you can’t go where Jesus went, but He went there for you. Baptised into His death, your sins are forgiven, your failures covered. When you stumble in loving others—and you will—Christ’s mercy holds you fast. This week, when sin stings, don’t curse or coddle it. Forgive it, trusting Jesus to make all things new. His cross is your comfort, His resurrection your hope.
Jesus then commands, “Love one another as I have loved you.” Sounds sweet, but don’t be fooled—this isn’t a call to warm fuzzies or blanket affirmation. Jesus’ love means suffering sin, not celebrating it. He forgives His betrayers, even as they abandon Him. We’re not the Messiah; we can’t die for sins. But we’re called to name sin—yes, call it what it is—and forgive it, not to win arguments or parade our inclusivity, but to bear the cross of mercy in a world that demands applause.
This love gets messy. You’ll face betrayal—at home, at work, maybe even in this church. Your instinct will be to strike back or paper over the hurt with “I’m okay, you’re okay.” Resist both. To love like Jesus is to suffer the wound, name the sin, and forgive it in His name. It’s not about fixing others; it’s about pointing them to the One who died for them. This is how the world knows we’re His disciples—not by our perfection, but by our cross-shaped love.
Take heart: you can’t go where Jesus went, but He went there for you. Baptised into His death, your sins are forgiven, your failures covered. When you stumble in loving others—and you will—Christ’s mercy holds you fast. This week, when sin stings, don’t curse or coddle it. Forgive it, trusting Jesus to make all things new. His cross is your comfort, His resurrection your hope.