5 July 2026 | Romans 7:15-25a, Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30

For about a year, right up until the recent Synod meeting, I served on the Moderator Nominations Committee. Now my job is finally finished. The Synod has elected Professor Ian Olver as our new Moderator, and he will lead the South Australian Synod for the next four years, beginning in 2028.

The best part of serving on this committee was spending time with the nominees. We listened to their stories, heard their hopes for the church, and shared in their vision for the future. It was a wonderful experience, and I can honestly say they were all outstanding candidates. The committee members honestly wished we could have had more finalists, but after about six months of prayer and careful discernment, three finalists were nominated.

Please keep our new leader, Professor Ian Olver, in your prayers. And I’d also appreciate it if you could pray for God’s grace and comfort for the other two wonderful candidates who weren't elected this time.

Now, since I believe this is a safe place, let me ask you a question. Out of the three finalists, who do you think I voted for? I voted for Rebecca. The reason was very simple. We've known her the longest. She ministers not far from our church, and because we’ve worked together on several committees, I was absolutely sure she would make a great moderator.

On voting day, the vibe in the room seemed to back up my confidence, and most people around me shared the exact same opinion. So naturally, I felt entirely secure and unshakably certain that she was going to be elected. Then the first-round votes were announced. I was completely surprised. My prediction was completely wrong. She actually received the fewest votes. Not because Rebecca wasn't a great candidate, but simply because my prediction was just that far off. I remember thinking, "Well... I didn't see that coming..."

Since no one received more than 50 percent of the vote, we moved to a second round without her. In the second round, I voted for Diane. I was certain: She’s definitely going to get it. But once again, I was wrong. Professor Ian Olver, the candidate I had least expected to win, was elected. I was genuinely surprised. Not because I doubted his qualifications. Far from it. I was simply amazed that my own judgement had been so far off. Based on what I knew, I honestly thought he had the smallest chance.

In fact, before the result was announced, I had already planned what I would say to congratulate Rebecca. I had also thought about what I might say to comfort Diane and Ian if they weren't elected. It turns out I had been preparing for a future that never happened.

Looking back, I realised something. In the last moderator election and the one before that, the person I was sure would be elected wasn't. By this point, I had learned a new English expression: "The Kiss of Death."

I painfully realized, maybe whoever I vote for is destined to lose! Is there anyone here planning to run for moderator or president in the future? Come and see me. I won't vote for you! (Oh, and please keep it a secret from Ian that I didn't vote for him today!)

After this, I started reflecting deeply: Things don't always turn out the way I expect. I had been so confident based on my own information and experience. I believed the room felt the same way I did. But my confidence was wrong four times in a row.

At first, I was even a little upset, thinking, "These people don't know what they're doing... I am the sole bearer of truth! But then I had to ask myself—or rather, confront the ultimate defense mechanism of my human ego: Yes, I can't control everything. I am not the centre of the world. On what grounds have I been so easily judging people, situations, and outcomes?

I simply cast my vote for the person I believed would be a good leader. That was all I could do. But supporting someone is one thing. God appointing and guiding leaders is another. My responsibility is to be faithful in the process. The outcome belongs to God. And once again, God reminded me of that truth.

Looking back, we all see the world and make judgments based on our own information, our own experiences, and the place where we happen to stand. Then we assume that's the whole truth. But it isn't the whole world. It's only the small world we've created for ourselves.

We often get trapped in that little world and fail to see the much bigger picture that God is painting. Our firm belief that "I am right, this is my plan; may simply be the limit of our own perspective. It isn't easy, because it can feel like admitting we failed. When we lose control and our willpower fails, we just get tired. And that speaks directly to how we live today, and this is where we slowly become exhausted. Whenever things don't go according to our expectations or our plans, we panic, we become disappointed, and sometimes we blame ourselves or push ourselves too hard. Perhaps this is the real heavy burden we carry every day without even knowing its name.

In today's Bible reading from Matthew, Jesus says, "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest."

Normally, we hear this wonderful line about being weary and burdened and immediately think, "This means my difficult circumstances are going to be magically changed so that I can finally be comfortable." But today, I wonder if Jesus is saying something a little different.

What if the"heavy burden" we carry is our own desperate, exhausting, strong desire to control our own lives and write our own ending?

It’s thinking we always have to be right and only feeling safe when things go exactly our way. It’s that deep tiredness we get from always worrying about the future and trying to force things to happen. It's the heavy weight of trying to control everything and putting it all on our own shoulders. Maybe that is the burden Jesus wants us to drop today.

So, Jesus’s invitation today goes far beyond a simple "I will fix your situation right now.""It is a much deeper calling: "Hand over the control of your life to me. I will finish it. Only then will your weary heart find rest. If you stay in me, no matter what the conclusion is, there is no failure." Does that bring you comfort?

Here, we have Paul's story in Romans. To be precise, it's a very personal story of a man who is in deep agony because his life is not under his control. In Romans 7, he humbly confesses his pain: "For the good that I want to do, I do not do, but I practice the very evil that I do not want."

He desperately wanted to do good, but he failed time and time again. He wanted to do a better ministry, but he faced conflict. He had grand dreams, but his body was sick. And finally, crushed by that burden, he cries out: "Oh, what a miserable person I am!" Who will free me from this life that is dominated by sin and death?"

When Paul says he is "miserable,; he isn't just feeling guilty about committing a few sins. He was trying so hard to be good all by himself. He kept telling himself, 'I can do this. I will break this bad habit. I will become a better child of God. He was trying to take full control of his life and write his own ending.

But the harder he pushed himself, the more he realized he was completely powerless. And finally, he admits it: "I can't even control myself with my own strength. Trying to be the boss of his own life—that was the heavy, exhausting burden he was carrying. And finally, he surrenders. It's not giving up. It is the most beautiful, humble declaration of surrender. Look at his final confession: "Thanks be to God, who delivers me through Jesus Christ our Lord!"

I believe this is the very moment Paul says "Yes" to Jesus' invitation to come and find rest. Instead of trying to control his own future, he places his life into Jesus' hands, trusting that Christ will lead him where he truly needs to go.

Dear friends, We constantly try to write the endings of our own lives. We believe our families should go the way we planned, and our prayers should be answered on our timetable. And the more we do that, the more exhausted we get. Think about the last time you couldn’t sleep. How often are you staring at the ceiling in the middle of the night, heart racing?

Because you are trying to write the ending to a situation that hasn’t even happened yet. True rest is abiding in Jesus. It is handing in your resignation as the CEO of the universe. It is a fundamental shift in our posture. Jesus’s invitation is essentially this: Hand over the control of your life's ultimate direction to me. I will finish it. That is when we can finally rest. Do you remember the theme for our Messy Church coming up in August?

It’s the story of Noah's Ark, "Hope in the Storm. Please come along and bring your family and neighbours. While thinking about Noah's Ark, I had to stop at one particular verse. It's Genesis 7:16.

Let’s look on the screen. "The animals going in were male and female of every living thing, as God had commanded Noah. Then the Lord shut him in. Can you guess which part made me stop? Let me give you a hint. Here is another translation: "They came to Noah and to the ship in pairs... Then God shut the door behind him."

It was... "Then God shut the door behind him."

Noah spent a long time preparing the ark; he faithfully obeyed an instruction that made no logical sense. Finally, all the animals went inside, and the rain started to fall. The ark was finally complete. He spent years and years doing physical labour, selecting the wood, cutting the timber, hammering, and gathering the animals. We can say he worked incredibly hard.

At the very last moment, when everything was finally ready—at that long-awaited grand finale—God shuts the door behind Noah. I find this part so striking. Think about it. If you were Noah, how would you have felt? Honestly, I think I would have been very upset.

I probably would have complained! I might have said, "God, I worked so hard for this. Couldn't You at least give me the honour of closing the door?" If you were God, what would you have done? If it were me, I would have said, "Well done, Noah, my good and faithful servant. Now, you may shut the door."; I would have let Noah enjoy his grand finale!

But the Bible doesn't say that. The one who shut the door of the ark wasn't Noah; it was God. Noah’s labour and God’s decision were on two completely different levels. There is a very clear message here. It is God declaring, 'I make the decisions. I write the ending.'The door of salvation, the ultimate conclusion of our lives, the boundary between the chaos of the storm and the safety inside, is completely out of our control—and firmly in His hands. And that is exactly why we can finally rest.

When we realize this, these desperate words sound like a brand-new invitation: 'Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.; What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death?"

This truth completely redefines our daily job description. It clarifies exactly what we are responsible for, and more importantly, what we are not responsible for. Our role is solely to live out the process faithfully. We are simply stewards of the present moment, in whatever circumstances we face. We are called to offer our most genuine love in the exact place God has given us today.

Yes, our job is to chop the wood, measure the timber, and apply the pitch to the ark until our hands blister. Our mission is to wake up, strive to be good servants of God, do our work diligently, and love our brothers and sisters. But the outcome—the closing of that heavy wooden door when the rain finally starts—is not our duty.

Let us remember, that is entirely up to God. He alone will lead and finish our story. Don’t worry; He makes no mistakes.

Do we still want to direct our own lives? Is that why we are weary and burdened? Are we exhausted because life hasn't gone the way we planned, shouldering a job that was never ours to begin with? What an amazing invitation! Jesus has for us today: "Come to me... and I will give you rest." Amen.