1 Jun 2025, Acts 16:16-34, “About midnight—Faith when God seems hidden” Packing Day, Reconciliation Sunday.

Faith when God seems hidden

There was a Korean minister among the very first Korean immigrants to Australia. Back in 1974, when there were fewer than a hundred Koreans in the whole country, he was invited to serve as the minister of what would become the first Korean church in Sydney.

I had the privilege of meeting him and hearing his story years ago and just how emotional it must have been.  I couldn’t help but feel a deep respect for his faith and dedication and resilience.

Just imagine. A new city, a new language, a new neighbour. In his words, every time he walked down the streets, he described people staring, feeling the constant stares. And if he did happen to see another Korean person on the street, their eyes would just well up with tears. That’s how emotional and isolating it was.

“Nowadays, if I run into someone who looks Korean, I tend to avoid them. Maybe the other person feels the same way, too.   I’m never quite sure—are they Korean or not? And then I don’t know whether to say ‘Hello’ or ‘Annyeonghaseyo.’”

There was no direct flight between Sydney and Seoul at that time. (4-5times a day) He had to transit through two other countries, and the whole journey took 36 hours.  

These days, flying overseas has become so common. But back then, it was truly a once-in-a-life-time experience.

The story I remember about his very first flight. A completely different experience, people dressed up, you know, suits, ties. You could still smoke on the plane. It feels almost unbelievable now, doesn't it?

At the time, the first Korean church in Sydney didn’t have a minister. They were worshipping by playing cassette tapes of recorded sermons mailed from Korea. When he heard about this, he feels this strong call like a missionary journey, basically, to go and lead them.

He applied for his visa, waited a long time, and booked his ticket. Because of visa issues, he couldn’t bring his family right away.

And in those days, before you could travel overseas from Korea, you had to complete something very specific, not just get a passport… but something considered even more crucial than your passport. You had to complete anti-communism education and fulfill at least three years of national service. It was non-negotiable. No excuses you simply couldn’t leave the country without it.

The day finally arrives. He couldn't sleep the night before. Leaving his family behind and stepping into an unknown future—exciting and nerve. That morning, he ate breakfast with his family, got ready and it starts snowing.

And his heart just sinks, gets a bad feeling.  He goes to the airport anyway early, just in case.

Now here’s an interesting thing he told me: there were more people there to say goodbye than there were people actually flying. The farewells. Travel was such a huge deal.

And if the person travelling happened to be a Christian or their children, do you know what would happen? The church minister and leaders, of course family and friends would come to the terminal and hold a farewell worship service. Singing hymns, praying, laying hands on the person, tearful, significant moments. So he has this huge emotional send-off.

But then because they didn't have enough equipment to clear the snow, the flights delayed and cancelled. Totally devastated. After that intense farewell, all the buildup, he had to go home, left landline number.

Even though the snow eventually stopped, the sky remained overcast. Everyone was anxious. The whole family sat together around the telephone. And then around midday the phone rang. “Come back. The flight might depart later this afternoon or evening.”

Still unsure, he made his way back to the airport immediately.  Even after boarding the plane, he can't fully relax, still afraid. But then the cabin door closes, the plane taxis, and finally it lifts off.

Deep sigh of relief, feeling a bit motion sickness and just thinking, ‘okay, this is it Lord, please lead me’. Still tense, still unsure of what was to come.

Then, something incredible happened. As the plane went up higher and higher, it was a completely different world. Above the dark clouds, above the snow that caused all the anxiety, he breaks through into a completely different world. Wow.

Brilliant, warm, steady sun just dazzling his eyes. The sky was endlessly clear, blue. He felt a sense of wonder; he'd never seen anything like it.

He realized that no matter how thick the dark clouds may seem, the sun is still shining always. God's light, his love, his guidance. It’s exactly like that sun. It had been shining all along.

And up there, somewhere between Seoul and Sydney, somewhere between fear and faith. That experience would likely remind him for a very long time, perhaps his whole life, of God's promise to be with him in any situation. "You’ve been here all along.”

Isn’t that powerful? I’m sure it wasn’t just his personal epiphany on the flight. It’s a timeless truth that resonates deeply with many stories in the Bible—especially in Acts chapter 16, which we’re looking at today.

Paul and Silas are in a dark, cold, and terrifying prison. Not just in prison, but their hands and feet are bound in chains. Imagine the feeling. Their bodies were beaten and aching how can we even describe such a hopeless state?  Well but the Bible uses one, single, powerful word, their time, it says “about Midnight”

Literally, yes, it was the dead of night. The deepest part of the night when the world is asleep, Sometimes, we find ourselves in a similar place. Perhaps we’re going through a “midnight” right now. Or maybe we’ve been through one before. Or maybe we’re witnessing someone else’s midnight, and we’re walking through it with them. And I’m sorry to say, our own midnight moments may come again. Not just once, but maybe several times in our lives. So the really critical question becomes, what did Paul and Silas actually do?.... in that midnight? And maybe more importantly for us, how should we understand and respond to our midnight moments? Prayer? praise? But please, let's not misunderstand this. Their response, praying and singing praises, it didn’t seem to just come from a desperate cry to get out it wasn't just the natural human reaction to suffering, which might be, you know, crying or complaining.  Because if that were their main motive, they would have cheered and run out immediately the doors opened.

No. They didn’t. It seems they were praying in the presence of God. They sang praises, not because the situation was good, but because they knew deep down someome was watching over them. God! Midnight wasn’t just a time of sadness and despair. It became something sacred, a moment for prayer, with calm, intentional songs of praise. Midnight wasn’t the end for them. They actually turned that cold, dark prison cell into a sanctuary of worship. And this, indeed, is the beautiful, life-transforming message that the story of Paul and Silas quietly yet powerfully conveys to us this morning.

Once again, we are filled with gratitude. God’s light, His presence, His promises—they haven’t disappeared; they’ve simply been hidden from our very limited view much like a prisoner can’t see beyond the cell doors. What a profound realization it is to know, “You’ve been here all along.” And this isn’t just someone else’s story, it has real implications for how we live today.

Brothers and sisters,

Today is Reconciliation Sunday, and it's also our Packing Day.,

I’m so grateful to God for giving us hearts willing to serve,

the strength and willingness to move these boxes, and a spirit of true solidarity. I am confident that God will bless our community and our hands.

And I pray, I pray that today’s message, this deep truth that “God, You’ve always been there,” will be lovingly packed into every box we prepare today.

And I pray that as these boxes are delivered, they won’t just carry supplies, they’ll carry hope.

Just as Paul and Silas’s midnight became a moment of salvation for the jailer, may these boxes become part of someone’s new beginning.

And for our Indigenous brothers and sisters, the First Peoples of this land, many are still walking through a kind of midnight. Their journey has been marked by deep wounds, by long-standing injustice, and by a history and present that still feel like a kind of prison.

And yet, I believe this message speaks just as powerfully to their story. Even in the silence, God has been there.  He has been listening, listening to their long-held cries, for justice,for healing, and for restoration.

It’s my sincere desire that if our Packing Day today is about extending a hand to meet physical needs, then the spirit we carry into Reconciliation Week is like a spiritual hand reaching out.

That we would open the boxes of our hearts, to hold one another’s midnight, to truly listen, to seek understanding, and to build bridges of respect and relationship.

And finally, for each of us, may our own 'midnights,' whenever they come, also become places of hope, filled with prayer and song.

Let’s look at the screen.  As we can see on the screen, I’ve put together a reflection using the letters of the word PACKING this week.

“We PREPARE each box with love,

ASSIST those in need with compassion,

CARE for our neighbours near and far, and fill every package with

KINDNESS.

Through this, we INSPIRE hope,

NURTURE community connections,

and GIVE as Christ first gave to us.”

Today, I’ve applied this to the story of Paul and Silas. Shall we explore this together?

“Paul and Silas weren’t just surviving the night.

They were PRAYING with purpose, not panic.

They were ABIDING in God’s presence, even in chains.

They were CHOOSING praise over complaint.

They were KEEPING faith when nothing made sense.

They were INVITING others into worship, even without words.

They were NOTICING that midnight could be holy ground.

They were GIVING glory to God, even before deliverance came.”

That’s what they were PACKING not just hope for escape or getting out of jail but the presence of God in the middle of the darkness making their worship place.

And now, for our own PACKING Day, here’s how we can think about what PACKING means for us:

We’re not just PACKING items.

We’re PACKING Prayers.

We’re ACTING with compassion.

We ’re CARING through every thoughtful detail.

We’re KINDLING hope and kindness in someone’s heart.

We ’re INVESTING in relationships and community.

We’re NAVIGATING love across distance and difference.

We’re GREVING with them and giving the good news through action,

not just words.

Today, we started with a minister's personal story. He saw that God is always present, even above the clouds. Then, we talked about the strong faith of Paul and Silas. They changed a very dark midnight prison into a place to meet God. And now, we've come together to a practical time of service: our Packing Day and the call of Reconciliation Week.

Amen.