Exodus 17:1-7

At the start of the Exodus, God empowered Moses to perform many miraculous signs before Pharaoh, the ruler of Egypt, to demonstrate that Israelites’ exodus project would be a divine will to secure freedom for His people.

For an example, Moses struck the river with his staff, turning the water into blood and leaving the Egyptians without anything to drink. And, perhaps most famously, God used Moses to part the waters of the Red Sea, creating a dry path for the Israelites to walk through to safety. And the waters of the Red Sea had closed behind them, leaving the Egyptian chariots’ drowning in the Red sea waters. hey were finally free for the first time in 400 years. They sang a song of triumph for hours and their hearts were full of praise for days.

Yet, only a few days later, the joy of that miracle began to fade. That song of praise turned into a chorus of complaints. The reality of the hot, harsh desert took its place.

The human heart can be incredibly fragile, easily tossed back and forth by the changing circumstances of life. Once they were safe from the hard labour of Egypt, the Israelites stopped being thankful and started complaining. Fear had been silenced at the sea but started to whisper in the camp again.

They spoke of the “good old days” back in Egypt. In a nutshell, they chose to forget the bitterness of their chains and chose to remember the food they used to eat. They quickly traded the trust they had just promised for worry over a few physical challenges. However, God did not turn away in anger. He heard their impatient cries of “Why did you bring us here to die?”—and responded with grace this time as well.

One morning, the Israelites woke to find a strange, flake-like substance on the ground. It looked like frost. They called it “Manna,” which means “What is it?” It was bread from heaven. It was not earned; it was not bought. It was given simply because God provided them. Day after day, it appeared. It was a clear reminder that God was present, sustaining them even when they were ungrateful.

This story sounds like a mirror for us today. We often stand on the other side of our own “Red Seas” after seeing God do impossible things for us. We often complain about the small struggles in our daily lives. We forget the big miracles because we are focused on our immediate needs.

Humans are so easily habituated to complaining. When life is easy, our faith feels strong. But as soon as the water runs dry or the road gets bumpy, we quickly forget the big miracle at the sea. We look at our current discomfort and assume that God has abandoned us.

And yet, like the manna in the desert, God’s grace remains steady. He meets our complaints with bread. He invites us to stop looking only at what we lack. He asks us to see the One who is walking with us through the desert. Yet, we still complain whenever things do not go our way. The human heart can be so fragile and volatile.

Now, we’re ready to look at today’s passage from Exodus 17. The basic story line is this. The Israelites are in the desert of Rephidim. Once again, there is no water. Once again, their fear and worry turn into sharp, impatient complaints against Moses and against God. They even asked, “Is the Lord really among us or not?”

We understand they are thirsty. Tens of thousands of people, along with their children and livestock, cannot survive without water in desert. However, how could they possibly doubt God’s presence after all the miracles they had witnessed just a few days before? Again, it is a matter of the human heart. When we doubt God’s presence in life, we raise a direct challenge to His goodness toward us. And sooner or later, we come to forget who is leading us.

In the Exodus story, God gives Moses a strange instruction. He tells him to take the staff he used to strike the Nile and go to the rock at Horeb. God says, “I will stand there before you by the rock.”

This is a very interesting part. The original Hebrew text can also be translated as, ‘I will stand there before you on the rock,’ rather than ‘by the rock.’ This is a significant distinction. When you stand by a rock, you are separate from it. But when you stand on the rock, you are one with it. Whatever happens to the rock now happens to you as well.

When Moses stroke that rock, a miracle happened. Fresh, cool water poured out, enough for the entire community to drink. But there is a deeper mystery in this scene that points us toward the Cross of Jesus Christ.

In a profound act of divine humility and sacrifice, God placed Himself in the position of the rock. When Moses swung the staff, he was, in effect, striking the very presence of God to bring life to a rebellious people. When Moses raised his staff to strike the rock, he had to strike the presence of God first.

It is a powerful picture of what Christ would later do on the cross. Just as Moses’ staff had to strike the presence of God on that rock to release the living water, Christ was struck for our sake. On the cross, the life of God was poured out so that we could be satisfied. The life-giving water did not come easily. It was the direct result of God being broken for us.

We look at our dry circumstances and doubt or even deny by saing, “Is God real?” But the story of the rock teaches us the truth. God does not abandon us in our thirst. He stands in our place, allowing Himself to be struck so that grace can flow into our lives.

Imagine you and your family are on a train heading to the most beautiful place in Australia. Along the way, the train occasionally passes through a long, dark tunnel. You didn’t expect this, and you don’t like it. Yet, you and your family would never dream of getting off the train every time the train get into the tunnels. Why? Because you trust that it will eventually take you to the Idyllic destination.

The challenge for us today is to realise that the “desert” is not a place where God has abandoned us. It is a place where He is refining us. It is a place of school of discipleship where we keep growing.

In short, we have a perfect leader and provider. Yet, we often fail to rely on His full power. As a result, we frequently miss seeing how God is working in our daily lives. God is, and has always been, a good and generous Provider. He doesn’t just provide for our needs; He provides Himself.

Another reading from Romans this morning reads: “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” To truly experience God’s goodness and provision, we must always keep God first and make His purpose for our lives our highest priority. Then, all things will work together for good whether it be the Red Sea or the desert.

Once we accept the simple fact that God is inherently good—even when our path is dry or bumpy —that’s when we learn to stop the cycle of complaining, and walk in the steady, quiet confidence in our faith journey. Our God is not a distant divinity. Our God walks with us and in us. God is good always. He is a real, perfect provider.

Amen.

John 17:16-23; Revelation 21:3-5

Last Sunday, our worship looked a little different. We gathered “cafe-style,” sharing tables, morning tea, and conversation. As we sat together, we engaged in a creative exercise—thinking deeply about the logo and the meaning behind the name of our church. It was a fitting way to mark the 49th anniversary of the Uniting Church in Australia.

In our reflection, we were reminded of why we hold so firmly to our name. We are the Uniting Church, not the “United” Church. In history, the term “United” often refers to an event in the past—a contract signed, a merger finalized, a box checked. But we intentionally use the present participle, “Uniting.” We believe that the act of becoming one is not a historical milestone we reached in 1977; it is a living, breathing movement of the Holy Spirit that is happening right now, and will continue to happen for generations to come.

In John 17, Jesus prays for his followers: “that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you.” Jesus does not pray for a static achievement. He prays for a divine reflection of the relationship between the Father and the Son—a dynamic, sacrificial, and ongoing union. To be “Uniting” is to participate in that very prayer every single day. It means we are a church that refuses to settle, because God is still drawing us together and moving us forward.

As we celebrate 49 years, we are not looking back at a finished product. We are looking forward. We admit that we are still a work in progress. We are still learning how to be one across our differences, still learning how to listen to one another, and still learning how to be the hands and feet of Christ in a divided world.

To be the Uniting Church is to accept the invitation to keep becoming:

• Becoming one in our hearts, so we may love without conditions.
• Becoming one in our mission, so we may serve our neighbors with shared purpose.
• Becoming one in our witness, so the world might see a glimpse of the new heaven and new earth in our midst.

Today, let us celebrate the journey we have walked so far. But more importantly, let us commit ourselves again to the road ahead. May we continue to be a people in motion—always Uniting, always reforming, and always moving closer to the heart of God, who makes all things new. No matter how old or young we are, no matter how long we’ve been churchgoers, we are simply God’s children. We are in the making.

Matthew 9:35-38; 10:1-8

To truly understand the depth of the meaning of the reading in Matthew this morning, I’d like you to pay a careful attention to these two words: ‘Compassion’ and ‘Shepherd’. While we often think of ‘Compassion’ as simply ‘feeling with’ someone, the roots of the word suggest something much deeper.

The English word ‘compassion’ comes from the Latin cum (with) and passi (to suffer). At its core, when you feel compassion toward someone, it literally means ‘you are suffering with them’. It isn’t just a passive emotion or a gentle feeling in the heart; it is a profound identification with the pain of someone else.

This is perfectly captured in today’s Matthew’s Gospel 9:36 by the Greek word used for ‘compassion’, “splanchnizomai”. This word refers to one’s inward parts—the viscera, the internal organs in your body. It describes a reaction so intense that it is felt in the gut. This word does not merely describe a mental decision to be kind or a third-party observation of someone’s pain. When Jesus saw the crowds, His compassion was much like an internal physical ache.

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Genesis 12:1-9

Today, we are looking at one of the most critical moments in human history—the day God called a man named Abram. Up until this point in Genesis, humanity had wandered far from God, culminating in the proud of Babel Tower. But in Genesis 12, God changes His strategy. Instead of addressing the whole world at once, He handpicks one man, and as the result, that one man’s life would never be the same.

If there is one thing the Bible teaches us, it is this: God rarely does His greatest work within our comfort zones. Because He is still deeply committed to working through us, He quite often begins by disrupting our comfort zones.

“If God is an all-powerful, all-knowing god, why couldn’t He accomplish His purposes in our lives anywhere—whether we are in a place of comfort or a place of challenge?” we might ask.

I believe God shakes up our comfort zones to pull us away from relying on familiar routines and move us toward total trust in His guidance and provision. Of course, we don’t like it—and frankly, neither did Abram. If we stay too long within our comfort zones, leaning entirely on our own resources, habits, and sense of security, we start to believe we are the ones calling the shots. We might think that we don’t need anyone’s help, and sadly, that often includes God.

Today’s story begins with a staggering command by God: “Abram! Go from your country, your people and your father’s household to the land I will show you.”

Think about what God was asking. Your country, your close relatives, your parents and siblings are your safety net, your financial security and identity. When God asked Abram to leave, he didn’t give him a destination! He just said, “Just go and I will show you later.”

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Matthew 28:16-20 Genesis 1:26-28; 2:1-4.

Some people do not really enjoy doctrinal teachings. They think they are boring and do not understand or relate to them. As a matter of fact, theology is nothing more than what you think about God. If someone shouts that he doesn’t believe in God, then, that is his theology. He is expressing his thought about God, that he doesn’t think exist in his world. Whether they believe or don’t believe, they all point to one thing. Is God real or not?

We, as a Uniting Church, honour the lectionary readings and the seasons of the church year because those lectionary readings and the church calendar have been carefully and practically organised based on the three-year basis and they all point to one thing: ‘God lives in your life’.

Today is Trinity Sunday. Matthew gospel reading today is often called ‘the final commission’, which means there would be no more commission other than this that Jesus has given us. It reads, “Go to all peoples everywhere and make them my followers. Baptize them in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, and teach them to keep and practice everything I have commanded you.”

Trinity is about God in three persons–Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Do we fully understand this wonderful doctrine? Someone once asked Mrs. Albert Einstein if she understood her husband’s theory of relativity. “No”, she said, “but I know my husband.”

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