This, Our Valley: What do the stars tell us?

 

"The heavens declare [God’s] righteousness,* and all the peoples see his glory.” Psalm 97

As an alert reader, you no doubt noticed right off the bat the presence of an asterisk in the middle of verse 6 of Psalm 97 (quoted above). The asterisk (or “star”) is a mark that indicates a pause. The star is often found in music and poetry and indicates a pause belongs there. When one is reading the psalms silently or aloud, they are expected to pause for a beat before continuing with their recitation. Why?

We live in a world where reading tends to be done alone, in private. I sit in my recliner every day and spend my time reading novels, text books, devotional literature, and the like, and I do it silently. I sit before the computer monitor and likewise read and write quietly. The only time I read outloud is when I am going over my sermon notes to establish the pace and rhythm of what I will be “delivering unto the people gathered” (for worship). 

In the olden days, however, printing was very expensive. A congregation might have one Bible, and the psalms were often chanted. The people simply memorized most of the psalms used in their regular church services, and the star marked places where the cantor could pause to take a breath. After that “beat,” the congregation would finish the verse. 

If you look at the psalm above, you’ll note the verse makes a statement (The heavens declare God’s righteousness), to which the people respond (... and all the peoples see his glory). That pause places a dramatic emphasis onto the response (when done publicly). 

You get a sense of that dramatic reading when you watch the old television show Superman. There is that dramatic pause between each phrase shouted from the crowd: Look * Up in the sky * it’s a bird * it’s a plane * No * It’s Superman!

The point is, the star speaks to us. It reminds us to slow down. Take a breath. Pause. Get off that treadmill for just a moment. Look. Listen. I mean, really look; really listen.

I stopped writing a moment ago and watched two squirrels across the street run up and down the power pole – up one side, down the other, tails flickering, with such fluid grace I can barely understand how they do it. 

I pause for just a moment and compare the grace of those cute gray critters with my own clumsy efforts at perambulation and cannot help but see the heavens declaring the glory of God in creation. How wonderful, magical, beautiful! I’m nearly at a loss for words (which is becoming easier as my vocabulary seems to shrink day-by-day).

One does not have to believe in God to behold the wonders of the universe. One doesn’t have to believe in God to sing songs of appreciation that spring from the heart. One simply needs to take a moment to be still and bask in the glory of sunshine or rain; take in lakes, valleys, mountains, rivers, deserts, bogs, grasslands, scrub brush, and everything else that surrounds us.

Be still. That is becoming a lost art. I may be still in body, but too much time is spent on my rump and on my phone. Not enough time is devoted to being still and allowing my heart to actually slow down.

I am a hypocrite, of course. I urge folks to slow down, breathe, look, and listen – all the while I’m busy tapping the keyboard frantically because I’ve got to pack up and drive across the state for a family friend’s funeral. As the apostle Paul says, “I know what I should do, but I don’t do it. I know what I shouldn’t do, but I do that anyway. Woe is me!”

Well, perfection belongs to God. My place is to recognize when I’ve gotten out of balance like a load of laundry in a cranky old washing machine; I’ve got to stop the washer, open the lid when the agitator has ceased its agitation, and rearrange the load until it is back in balance.

Summer is my asterisk. It is the star of my show. It’s a reminder to stop, look, listen. It is a call to shift from talking the talk and move along to walking the walk. I hope you’ll join me for the walk under the stars here in this, our valley.

Keith Axberg writes on matters concerning life and faith. Author of: Who the Blazes is Jesus? Good News for a Vulgar World (available through Amazon in Print and e-book)

Seventh Sunday of Easter - Sandals for the Journey

 

Seventh Sunday of Easter

• Acts 16:16-34 – Paul, Silas, and (good grief) the Slave girl

• Revelation 22:12-14,16-17,20-21 – The Spirit and the Bride say, y’all come!

• John 17:20-26 – Jesus prays the world will know and believe they are loved

• Psalm 97 – The LORD is king, let the earth rejoice!

O God, the King of glory, you have exalted your only Son Jesus Christ with great triumph to your kingdom in heaven: Do not leave us comfortless, but send us your Holy Spirit to strengthen us, and exalt us to that place where our Savior Christ has gone before; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, in glory everlasting. Amen.

Give ear O heavens, and I will speak; 

let the earth hear the words of my mouth, 

for I will proclaim the Name of the Lord, 

and ascribe greatness to our God.

I come before you to make a confession: Sometimes I struggle to understand the Bible. Reading the Gospel of John, at times, feels like an exercise in Math, and while I can add, subtract, multiply, and divide with great accuracy (thanks to the calculators built into my phones and computers), the higher maths of algebra, calculus, and trig (the holy trinity of maths) slide off my gray matter like eggs off newly oiled teflon!

Chapter 17 of John’s Gospel is like that for me: 

As you, Father, are in me and I am in you, may they also be in us …The glory that you have given me I have given them, so that they may be one, as we are one, I in them and you in me, that they may become completely one …

It seems so repetitious and circular, but maybe that’s the point. 

The kingdom of God is at hand, the reign of God is right here, the love of God surrounds us on every side, God is at work here, there, and everywhere, and we just don’t get it. We don’t see it. We don’t understand.

We’re like that man who comes to Jesus asking him to help his child who’s suffering from terrible seizures. The disciples tried to help, but they couldn’t drive the demon out, so the father came to Jesus and asked him directly to help his child. 

Jesus said, “If you believe, all things are possible to those who believe.”

The man said, “I want to believe; help my unbelief.”

I don’t know if Jesus helped his unbelief, but Mark tells us he cast out the demon and healed the child (Mark 9:17ff), and that’s what matters.

Life is like that. Sometimes the disciples go out and come back thrilled with having done many good things – like Jesus – and other times they come back tired and defeated and … “we tried, but we just couldn’t do it.”

And Jesus rolls his eyes, takes a deep breath (as he does so often in the Gospels), and does what he needs to. What he doesn’t do is fire his disciples. He makes sure they know, “I’ve got your back.” And we need to know that. 

Sometimes we feel defeated by life. Like the young child in Mark 9, we feel all bound up; we can’t move, we roll around in and out of the fire, caught up in the paralysis of analysis, and Jesus says, “That’s OK, I’ve got this.”

So what do we make of the Gospel today? What do we make of Jesus’ prayer?

When I asked God, “What in heaven’s Name are you trying to say?” 

God said, “Keith, it’s right here.”

Now, God doesn’t talk to me in an audible voice (but if she does, it’s usually when I haven’t got my hearing aids in), but if I can just shut up for a few minutes and remember that 90% of prayer is listening – not talking to God, but listening for God to speak – that God will slide in like Momma did when I would struggle with a math problem.

God will sort of point a finger and say, “See this?” and, in time, suddenly the veil will be lifted and “Oh, there it is.” The solution I’ve been looking for.

It doesn’t always happen that way, but it does more often than not when I can keep my trap shut.

And there was the key verse staring me in the face like a Claritin commercial: … so that the world may know that you have sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me. (17:23)

Love. That’s the heart and soul of it, isn’t it?

Mark Twain once said, “It isn’t the parts of the Bible I have a hard time understanding that bother me, but the ones I do understand.” 

I know what he means. The command to love God with all your heart, soul, strength, and mind is easy to understand, but hard to do. It’s hard to soar with eagles when you’re stuck trying to enter a round-about because a flock of turkeys have got it clogged up, or because some child left their flip flops on the floor to trip over when you’re walking around the house in the dark!

The command to love your neighbor as yourself is easy to understand, but also hard to do.

Some of my neighbors are easy to love, of course. They watch our house when we go away for a few days or weeks. If they’ve got a loud party going on with a ton of friends and family gathering, they are good at turning down the music and  quieting down when bedtime rolls around. Even though street parking is free and open, they come and ask if their guests can park in front of the house when all of their own parking places fill up to overflowing.

We’ve got good neighbors. Easy to love.

But we’ve had neighbors who were more of a struggle to love. Loud. Obnoxious. Inconsiderate. Irritating. 

One set of next-door neighbors had dogs that would bark all day and all night, 24/7. One night I was having trouble getting to sleep. Their dog was right outside our bedroom window, and I had church services to lead and a sermon to preach the next morning. I’d had enough. So I got up, got dressed, and walked over to their house. Their car was out front and house lights were on. I knocked on the door. I rang the doorbell. I knocked. I rang. I did this for 20 minutes solid. Finally, they got tired of me knocking on the door and ringing the doorbell, so they turned off their lights.

Love your neighbor as yourself? In your dreams, God!

No Keith. Not in my dreams, but in your life.

I learned a long time ago, you can argue with God, but you’re probably not going to win.

So, how do we love our neighbors – all of our neighbors – ALL of our neighbors?

I don’t know. It isn’t easy. And the neighbors I struggle with are normal schmoes like you and me. We may be a little weird (well, OK, I can only speak for myself) but at least we aren’t committing genocide, or tearing families apart, or taking food off the tables of the poor, or removing their medical care, because, as one politician said recently, “Well, we are all going to die …” What’s the big whoop, right?

Sometimes our neighbors just plain wear us out, and that’s OK. You and I are diamonds in the rough; our neighbors are the grit that knock the “rough” off and getting us down to the shine God has for us anyway. We are the jewels in God’s crown!

In our Collect, we pray for God to send the Spirit to “strengthen us and exalt us to that place where our Savior has gone before…” 

What place is that? Well, it’s Easter, so presumably that means heaven. We celebrated the Ascension on Thursday, so maybe our prayer is to get us there, with Jesus.

But this prayer could also be to get us back down into the valley of the shadow, as the psalmist calls it – Jesus’ ministry here on earth where the journey to heaven came by way of the Cross.

Oops. Doesn’t that belong back in Holy Week, on Good Friday?

No, this journey of exaltation belongs at ground level, not up in the clouds. It takes place as we rub elbows with real people, who are sometimes really hard to deal with. That’s why we ask God to send the Spirit to strengthen us, because we know deep down in our heart of hearts that we’re really just not up to it.

I mean, I can talk the talk, but this walk the walk stuff requires shoes I ain’t got.

Jesus says, “No problem. I am the way, the truth, and the life.” What Jesus means is: “I’ll be your sandals.” 

On Thursday we celebrated the Ascension of our Lord. 

You know, when Elijah ascended into heaven in that chariot of fire, he left Elisha his mantle and said, “Carry on,” and Elisha did.

When Jesus ascended into heaven, he left us his sandals and says, “Carry on.” Jesus believed that the work begun in him WILL continue in the likes of you and me. 

We may not look like we’re up to the task; we may not feel like we’re up to the task, but Jesus says, “It doesn’t matter what you look like or feel like – if you believe, I’ll help you with your unbelief. Just remember, you’ll be less likely to trip over my sandals if you actually put them on. The world is aching to know God loves them. Now, go show them what love is all about, in my Name.” AMEN.

The Rev. Keith Axberg, Ret.

Sermon delivered to Christ Episcopal Church, Anacortes, WA, June 1, 2025

Based on the lessons below.

Acts 16:16-34

With Paul and Silas, we came to Philippi in Macedonia, a Roman colony, and, as we were going to the place of prayer, we met a slave girl who had a spirit of divination and brought her owners a great deal of money by fortune-telling. While she followed Paul and us, she would cry out, "These men are slaves of the Most High God, who proclaim to you a way of salvation." She kept doing this for many days. But Paul, very much annoyed, turned and said to the spirit, "I order you in the name of Jesus Christ to come out of her." And it came out that very hour.

But when her owners saw that their hope of making money was gone, they seized Paul and Silas and dragged them into the marketplace before the authorities. When they had brought them before the magistrates, they said, "These men are disturbing our city; they are Jews and are advocating customs that are not lawful for us as Romans to adopt or observe." The crowd joined in attacking them, and the magistrates had them stripped of their clothing and ordered them to be beaten with rods. After they had given them a severe flogging, they threw them into prison and ordered the jailer to keep them securely. Following these instructions, he put them in the innermost cell and fastened their feet in the stocks.

About midnight Paul and Silas were praying and singing hymns to God, and the prisoners were listening to them. Suddenly there was an earthquake, so violent that the foundations of the prison were shaken; and immediately all the doors were opened and everyone's chains were unfastened. When the jailer woke up and saw the prison doors wide open, he drew his sword and was about to kill himself, since he supposed that the prisoners had escaped. But Paul shouted in a loud voice, "Do not harm yourself, for we are all here." The jailer called for lights, and rushing in, he fell down trembling before Paul and Silas. Then he brought them outside and said, "Sirs, what must I do to be saved?" They answered, "Believe on the Lord Jesus, and you will be saved, you and your household." They spoke the word of the Lord to him and to all who were in his house. At the same hour of the night he took them and washed their wounds; then he and his entire family were baptized without delay. He brought them up into the house and set food before them; and he and his entire household rejoiced that he had become a believer in God.

Psalm 97

Dominus regnavit

1 The Lord is King;
let the earth rejoice; *
let the multitude of the isles be glad.

2 Clouds and darkness are round about him, *
righteousness and justice are the foundations of his throne.

3 A fire goes before him *
and burns up his enemies on every side.

4 His lightnings light up the world; *
the earth sees it and is afraid.

5 The mountains melt like wax at the presence of the Lord, *
at the presence of the Lord of the whole earth.

6 The heavens declare his righteousness, *
and all the peoples see his glory.

7 Confounded be all who worship carved images
and delight in false gods! *
Bow down before him, all you gods.

8 Zion hears and is glad, and the cities of Judah rejoice, *
because of your judgments, O Lord.

9 For you are the Lord,
most high over all the earth; *
you are exalted far above all gods.

10 The Lord loves those who hate evil; *
he preserves the lives of his saints
and delivers them from the hand of the wicked.

11 Light has sprung up for the righteous, *
and joyful gladness for those who are truehearted.

12 Rejoice in the Lord, you righteous, *
and give thanks to his holy Name.

Revelation 22:12-14,16-17,20-21

At the end of the visions I, John, heard these words:

"See, I am coming soon; my reward is with me, to repay according to everyone's work. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last, the beginning and the end."

Blessed are those who wash their robes, so that they will have the right to the tree of life and may enter the city by the gates.

"It is I, Jesus, who sent my angel to you with this testimony for the churches. I am the root and the descendant of David, the bright morning star."

The Spirit and the bride say, "Come."
And let everyone who hears say, "Come."
And let everyone who is thirsty come.
Let anyone who wishes take the water of life as a gift.

The one who testifies to these things says, "Surely I am coming soon."

Amen. Come, Lord Jesus!

The grace of the Lord Jesus be with all the saints. Amen.

John 17:20-26

Jesus prayed for his disciples, and then he said. "I ask not only on behalf of these, but also on behalf of those who will believe in me through their word, that they may all be one. As you, Father, are in me and I am in you, may they also be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me. The glory that you have given me I have given them, so that they may be one, as we are one, I in them and you in me, that they may become completely one, so that the world may know that you have sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me. Father, I desire that those also, whom you have given me, may be with me where I am, to see my glory, which you have given me because you loved me before the foundation of the world.

"Righteous Father, the world does not know you, but I know you; and these know that you have sent me. I made your name known to them, and I will make it known, so that the love with which you have loved me may be in them, and I in them."

The elderly shall dream dreams!

 

"It shall come to pass; I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh; your children shall prophesy, the elderly shall dream dreams, and the young will see visions …” Joel 2

On her eternal quest to declutter our house, my wife came across an old grocery bag filled with photos I had saved from the family homestead when my father passed away some six years ago. I had taken a cursory glance at the contents when we were clearing out the house preparing it to sell. My brother, sister, and I had divided up tons of photos as best we could.

Specialists in decluttering recommend “digitizing” old photos so one can save space. I laugh in the face of such suggestions. That makes sense at first blush, but my dad was an avid photo bug, and amongst the treasures we saved, were a gazillion 3.5” floppy disks, each containing a dozen or so photos. I brought all those floppies home, and while most had some content-hints printed on them, the only way to view the photos was to have a floppy disk reader.

Fortunately, Dad was also a gadget hound, so I brought home his floppy drive and over the course of the summer transferred those images to my computer and burned them from there onto DVDs that I then distributed to my siblings. 

Guess what? Most computers don’t have DVDs built in anymore, but like my father before me, I’m a gadget hog and have one I can pull out and plug in as needed!

I have made and saved digital copies of all our own photos and videos, placing them into storage drives. They’re not hard to access, but it is harder to find what we want, because the digitization process I used gave every photo and file an identification number (and the date the photo was digitized); it’s hard to locate any one photo one might want to find.

Everything designed to make life easier seems to make life harder. When I die, I wonder if they’ll bury me or just digitize the ashes!

Anyway, I found myself going through the sack of photos the way God intended, one by one. There is no comparison between looking at photos on a computer screen (no matter how “high def” it is) and holding photographs in one’s hand – photos that have been touched by Mom, and Dad, and Grandma and Grandpa, brother and sisters, and maybe even cousins, aunts, uncles, and friends.

I found myself glancing through one set of photos that really caught my eye. It was a collection of pictures of troops lining the rail of a Liberty ship, ca. 1945. Hundreds of soldiers in their woolen uniforms lining the rail from stern to bow aboard the “Admiral Sims.” None of the faces was much larger than ⅛ inch square, but suddenly, there he was. One face among hundreds, but clear as day, my father. Seventeen years old, clean shaven, fit and slender, arm resting on the rail, prepared to sail away to Europe to help secure the victory of a war just ending.

Pvt. Fred Axberg, 5th from left

I haven’t digitized that bag of photos yet. I’m taking my time savoring the images, gently caressing them with my thumb, enough to make a connection. Yes, one should wear special gloves when handling heirlooms that become more fragile with the passage of time. But I am at the stage of life where digitizing photos means actually putting my own digits on them, touching faces, shoulders, places, and things that evoke memories and stories – especially the stories.

The photos are still amazingly sharp and clear for the eras in which they were created. Having been stored in cupboards and boxes away from humidity, heat, and sunlight no doubt helped preserve them. But the stories are starting to fade, and I’m afraid those who follow will gaze upon these old photos the way archeologists look at cave drawings. 

Yes, I’ll digitize them some day soon. I know how to name them and file them better. AI may even be able to help. But until then, I’ll be glad to hold them in the palm of my hand, much like God holds us each here in this, our valley.

Keith Axberg writes on matters concerning life and faith. Author of: Who the Blazes is Jesus? Good News for a Vulgar World (available through Amazon in Print and e-book)

Flickering Flames of Tomfoolery!

"Clouds and darkness are round about [the LORD], righteousness and justice are the foundations of his throne.” Psalm 97:2

I am a weather man. That’s two words, not one. We don’t use the term weatherman anymore because those friendly folks who tell us what the weather is doing may or may not be male, female, or something else entirely. So we call them meteorologists.

I’m not a meteorologist, although I am old enough I can still remember when the meteor took out the dinosaurs, but we’ll save our trip down Nostalgia Lane for another time.

No, I am a weather man. This is the time of year I open and close windows and doors to adjust the temperature inside the house. Yes, I do have thermostats and a wonderful HVAC system which can moderate those temperatures with precision, but where’s the fun in that? 

My doctor says I need more exercise, anyway, so I jump up and down and leap about, going from room to room making sure we get just the right amount of ventilation and cross breeze to help keep the house approximately where we want it temperature-wise.

I was engaged in such an exercise the other day when the little woman and I caught a whiff of smoke coming in through an open window. 

“Ah, someone’s burning yard waste,” I said. I love the scent that comes from burning barrels – leaves, twigs, pinecones, and maybe a hint of juniper needles.

I looked out through the patio door into the backyard to see if I could tell where that wonderful aroma was coming from and noted a passing cloud of smoke that was larger and denser than the standard barbecue or burning barrel variety, so I decided to go investigate. Once a cop, always a cop, I guess.

I went out onto the deck and could tell that what I had assumed was a burning barrel or small burnpile sort of activity taking place was much larger and decidedly not “that,” so I went around to the front of the house and was shocked to see smoke billowing up from a neighbor’s yard a couple doors down the street. I heard the swoosh of a portable fire extinguisher and toddled down the lane to get a better look.

My neighbor several houses down was fighting a brush fire alongside his driveway with a garden hose. An elderly gentleman from across the street was also fighting the flames with a red-barreled fire extinguisher. I was amazed to see just how little water garden hoses provide when one is fighting a towering inferno. I ascertained that no one had called 9-1-1 (and confirmed Moses was nowhere to be seen), so I did my duty, made the call, and before long I could hear the approaching sirens of our local fire brigade.

Fortunately, no one was hurt and the fire hadn’t reached the house; Fire services arrived within minutes and the fire was extinguished lickety-split, so to speak. Fire department hoses are much more effective than garden hoses at dousing flames.

The fire had apparently started when my neighbor decided to burn weeds along his driveway with a propane torch, rather than pulling them out one by one like most of us do. I don’t blame him; it seems like an easy solution to a weed problem. Unfortunately his weeds were beneath a large juniper hedge, and that’s what caught fire as sparks jumped from the undergrowth he was trying to clean up.

Sometimes we try to find an easy way out of our problems, but unless we boot up our gray matter first, those solutions can create even bigger problems. I’ve always been a slow learner, but I pride myself on the fact that I CAN learn. 

The irony of the situation was that after the fire department had rolled up their gear and gone, my neighbor fired up his propane torch again and went back to his weed eradication project. Sigh. At least he kept his garden hose closer at hand. 

I’m not sure weeds are his main problem, to be honest, but I admire his tenacity. I’ll just make sure to keep a nostril pointed in his direction for a while – at least while I’m doing my weather man duties here in this, our valley. Be safe out there, folks. Smoky Bear thanks you.

Keith Axberg writes on matters concerning life and faith. Author of: Who the Blazes is Jesus? Good News for a Vulgar World (available through Amazon in Print and e-book)

 

The best part of waking up!

"Praise the LORD with the harp; play to him upon the psaltery and lyre. Sing for him a new song; sound a fanfare with all your skill upon the trumpet.” Psalm 33:2-3

I am a morning person. Not a “get up at five to milk the cows” morning person, but a get out of bed, stumble into the kitchen, pour a cup of coffee carefully (mostly by touch, as I feel the heat of the liquid climbing and warming the ceramic mug as I hold it carefully in my left hand whilst pouring the hot, black nectar of the gods with my right) morning person.

I cherish the dawn. It’s dark and quiet. I never hurry or force myself to arise. I’ve had the sleep my body requires by six a.m. and now there are other things my body needs: relief and caffeinated hydration. I move about the house quietly on padded feet, not because I am old and slow, but because I enjoy the feel of the cool hardwood on my tootsies. It contrasts nicely with the warmth of the robe that wraps my shoulders and torso.

I make my way from bed to kitchen to office, quietly, peaceably. I turn on lights that are kept dim for the mornings. No morning bugle call for me. No reveille. The closest thing I have for noise are the four light peeps the coffee maker makes when the coffee is ready. I don’t need the signal. My nose knows the coffee’s ready, but what do coffee makers know about my schnoz? So I ignore the peeps, which are really quieter than the snapping splats the coffee maker makes when the last few drops spurt into its filtered cone.

“Souls that are harried and hurried need to be slowed down …” says Richard H. Schmidt in “Praises Prayers & Curses – Conversations with the PSALMS.” 

I agree. The world operates 24/7 and spins too fast. The early bird may get the worm, but I do not rise in order to stuff my face, but to spend some time in the arms of the One who holds me near and dear. I hear her heartbeat as I listen to the morning songbirds. 

I look outside my office window, noting four deer passing by, pausing to snack upon my flowers (curse them!), and yet secretly I know they need to eat too. Bless the LORD they think my yard a place of fine dining, where they nibble here and there, but leave most of it alone (for the most part). 

I contrast that with my own penchant to gulp my food like there’s no tomorrow. I make my confession to God and pray the LORD will slow down my mouth enough to at least taste and enjoy what it is I eat as I graze away throughout the day.

I take another sip; the neighborhood cats are on the prowl. There’s the orange one who loves to pop over while we work in the yard; she appreciates when we scratch around her ears and neck. She never says much, but accepts our adoration as she strolls about, surveying her domain. She does her business beneath the great maple tree out front, but that’s OK. The tree is bursting forth in leaf, and the leaves appear just a tad greener, happier, and healthier for her contributions.

The neighbor dogs across the street are out; they have half an acre of backyard in which to roam and play, but they spend their time standing at the front corner of their chain-link world and note the passing of every, single, passing, walker, jogger, stroller, man-jack, woman, and child. Their “songs” are anything but melodious, but even so, I know it is their nature to warn off potential trespassers, just as prophets warn against stupid, crooked, greedy despots. 

Yes, no one likes the sound of barking, yipping, yelping dogs, and yet we must learn to heed their warnings, too. Many are the false alarms, but what a gift when the alarm is sounded and hearth and home are saved. God bless the world’s Lassies!

And so we reach the end of the dawn. The sun has risen; caffeine courses through my veins. God and I have had our chat and compared notes. Now we shall each tend to our worlds as we sally forth once again here in this, our valley – at peace and awake.

Keith Axberg writes on matters concerning life and faith. Author of: Who the Blazes is Jesus? Good News for a Vulgar World (available through Amazon in Print and e-book)

Holy Ones Among Us – Lenten Devotions for 2025

Each week during Lent, I presented a brief meditation on one of the lessons for that week. My focus this year was Holy Ones Among Us.

Ash Wednesday Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21

“Beware of practicing your righteousness before others in order to be seen by them, for then you have no reward from your Father in heaven.” (Matthew 6:1)

It may be selfish of me, but the first saint who springs to mind this Lent is my mother – my step-mother, actually. My mother abandoned the family while my brother and I were not yet teens. Dad was given custody and remarried. From the beginning, I never thought of his new wife as anything other than a mother. From the start, we (and her daughter from a previous relationship) were her kids and she was our Mom. 

She got us involved in church-life, but never forced her religion or beliefs on us. She answered questions of the faith with honesty and good humor and never presumed hers was the only way. She never paraded her piety around to be seen by others. She’d say grace at meals, but it was always a brief prayer to God and never a sermon for the family. She prayed privately and lived generously. If people popped in at meal-time, she made room at the table. 

She was active in church, serving on Vestries, a lay reader on Sundays, engaged in a wide variety of outreach efforts (such as Kairos, Ministry to women in jail or prison) and more. She was an avid reader and a mentor in the faith. If I ever wondered how to be a Christian, she was the template I followed, and I am thankful to God for her. She was taken away far too soon; I still miss her, but carry her in my life and ministry.

Prayer: Dear God, you help us to learn and practice the faith by sending us saints who not only talk the talk, but walk the walk. Help me to be more like them in this life, now and forever. Amen.

Keith Axberg+

First Sunday in Lent Luke 4:1-13

“When the devil had finished every test, he departed from him until an opportune time.” (Luke 4:13)

I have never suffered a lack of temptations in my life. I have always known right from wrong, honorable from shameful, good from evil. I’ve generally done the right things. I’d love to think that’s from out of the goodness of my heart, but often it was the fear of consequences that kept me on the straight and narrow more than any inherent holiness on my part.

My grandmother was another saint you’ll not find posted in an ecclesiastical Kalendar [sic]. When her daughter abandoned our family, she would catch the cross-town bus and meet us at our house while Dad was still working. She was an active church-woman, but never talked about God or religion. Hers was a private faith; not secret, but private. She would answer questions but never pontificate. When we spent weekends with her and Pamp (our Grandfather), she would take us to her little church on Sunday mornings. 

I received Holy Communion for the first time there, despite being unbaptised and assuming it was a snack-break or reward for sitting quietly during what had been a very boring sermon. My brother chastised me for taking communion, but Mammam said, “Leave him alone. That’s between him and God.” I snickered in quite an unholy manner inside, but God got the last laugh.

What I learned from her, among other things, was that faith was simply practiced because that’s what it was about. It wasn’t theory; it was practice. It wasn’t avoiding evil; it was choosing good. I think she helped me understand Jesus’ wilderness experience better by the way she ministered to my brother and me during the wilderness of life between mothers. She is also why I can think of God not just in Fatherly terms, but Motherly, as well.

Some people ask, “What would Jesus do?” As often as not, for me it’s “What would Mammam do?” 

Prayer: Gracious God, the devils flee when we choose not to listen to them or seek the easier, softer way they promise. We thank you for the saints who helped us learn the harder, but better way of Jesus. May their example help us continue our walk through this holy Lent. Amen.

Keith Axberg+

Second Sunday in Lent Luke 13:31-35

“Jerusalem, Jerusalem … How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing.” (Luke 13:34ff)

Rodney King comes to mind. Saint Rodney. He is best known for having been the victim of a bloody, painful beating at the hands, feet, and batons of a group of cops. The event, caught on camera, was sickening and led to rioting across the country. Despite the savagery of the attack, King asked the question: “Can’t we all just learn to get along?”

I was a cop for a few years before heading off to seminary and eventual ordination. Community Relations was a big component of our training in the mid-70s. Good grief; that was 50+ years ago now! It wasn’t Public Relations (the art of spinning a story). It was Community Relations – coming to grips in law enforcement: “We work with and for the public.” The old days and the old ways were no longer appropriate. Our vocation called us to work with the community and build relations with them. I don’t know about the other officers, but I took that training to heart and strove to be just and kind, to listen and understand, and to respect the dignity of every person – victims and criminals. That last part was instilled in me through our baptismal covenant.

It is tempting to ignore everything Jesus and the prophets tell us about the love of God and how we ought to treat one another, for I can always rationalize my desire to fight fire with fire, lash out at those who behave dishonorably or wickedly, or otherwise deserve my wrath and indignation with their tom-foolery. King reminds us of what Jesus says: “How often I wished to gather my children together …. But you were not willing.” We need to do better. I need to do better. I see Jesus’ tears, and I weep with him.

Prayer: Lord God, you know a better way; you’ve taught a better way, but in stubbornness we continue to frustrate that better way, to remain scattered in fear and ignorance. Continue calling. Please God, keep calling, and let us find our rest and safety beneath your outstretched and loving wings. Amen.

Keith Axberg+

Third Sunday in Lent Luke 13:1-9

“A man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard, and he came looking for fruit on it and found none.” (Luke 13:6)

My saint of the week this week is my father. Dad wasn’t always around, but when Mom abandoned our family, he made sure we were taken care of, fed, sent to school, and cared for after school and before he got home. Being single was never his strong suit, but he met a good woman who soon became his wife and our mother. He never spoke ill of his first wife (our Mom) and maintained good relations with her parents despite the divorce. Stuff happens.

He wasn’t much of one for cultivating gardens or tending to the yard, but he did have a knack for growing tomatoes, and every year he would plant tomato seeds in about the most inhospitable soil  you could imagine (if you could even call it “soil”). “The secret,” he said, “is to add just the right amount of fertilizer. Too little and it won’t help; too much it will burn the roots.” Fish fertilizer was his specialty. He knew the right amount, as his tomato plants always bore prodigious numbers of delicious tomatoes.

I can’t help but think of Dad when I see the story Jesus tells of the poor fig tree that wouldn’t produce any fruit. Out of frustration, the landowner decides to have his servant rip it out and plant something else, but the gardener sees something in the tree that convinces him it just needs a little help. 

It isn’t producing because it’s under stress, he thinks. “Perhaps the problem isn’t the tree, but the soil. Let me deal with it,” he begs, “and if I can’t fix it, then we’ll do what we must.” That’s all the landlord needs to hear. After all, he invested in the purchase of the tree. He invested time for it to mature. Ripping it out will cost him more time and money. Putting the fate of the tree in the hands of a master gardener is prudent, and may prove to be an even wiser investment.

The gardener also takes his responsibility seriously. Maybe he hasn’t given this tree the attention it deserves. Aren’t we all like that, especially with those we love. We take them for granted and assume if they need anything they’ll ask. Before we count people out, perhaps we need to ask if we have done our part to help folks grow into the “full stature of Christ.” (BCP, p. 302) People mean more than tomatoes or plants. Jesus suggests we should give a fig and do our part!

Prayer: God, sometimes we struggle to be the people you want us to be. Maybe we don’t feel ready, or prepared, or up to the tasks that have been set before us, yet if we are to bear fruit, we’ll have to let you dig around our roots and feed us. We pray for just enough fertilizer to help us grow, and not so much we burn, or so little we fail. Help us be like those saints who have shown us the way. Amen

Keith Axberg+

Fourth Sunday in Lent Luke 15:1-3, 11b – 32

“Now all the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to (Jesus).” (Luke 15:1)

Not all of my friends and relatives were saintly saints. Everyone I have mentioned so far was a flawed human being. Each (including yours truly) has been a ne'er-do-well of one sort or another, notching wins and sins in turn. I doubt if there is a vice or sin that hasn’t been completed, or at least contemplated, by anyone and everyone in each of our circles. What I’ve learned, though, is that each has an opportunity to acknowledge his or her sins, faults, words, and actions before God and another human being, and may continue to live as faithfully and lovingly as they can, despite those shortcomings of life or defects of character.

Sinners came to Jesus because he did not judge them. He loved them and assured them of God’s love for them. He assured them that God’s grace covered them all. God loved them so much that God came looking for them because it was God who lost them! God is never satisfied until the flock is made whole, or the purse filled, or the family reunited. 

I came to Jesus, not in order to be saved, but because I have been restored by the love of God who sought me out, looked high and low for me, threw open sash and door and lit candles, and sat in the gate of the village with eyes peeled for my return. God did not care and does not care what sort of fakery or flattery I came home with, or false modesty. God says, “You are mine,” and that’s enough. All I can do is respond with love, and love God, neighbor, and self in return. Each of my tarnished saints taught me that.

Prayer: Gracious God, we may not be much to look at, much to be proud of, much to brag about, but we are yours. If that’s enough for you, help us respond in like manner toward your church, our communities, families, strangers, and loved ones. Help us to be likewise gentle toward ourselves, for we are not our own, but yours, and we need to act like it. Amen.

Keith Axberg+

Fifth Sunday in Lent John 12:1-8

“Mary took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard, anointed Jesus’s feet, and wiped them with her hair.” (John 12:3)

Jesus was going to die soon, and Mary was broken-hearted. What could she do to ease him on his way? She brought the most expensive thing she had – a pound of expensive perfume. Now, I am not much into perfumes, colognes, or other smelly things like that, but I do know a little bit goes a long way. A spritz here, a dab there is all one needs. In days before underarm deodorants or regular baths and showers, I imagine one may have needed a bit more for sprucing up, but a pound? My goodness but that’s a lot!

If Mary was a woman of the night, as some have surmised, this lavish gift would not have been just an expensive or extravagant present; it would have represented her whole life – perhaps her livelihood. It scandalized the disciples, of course, for surely they worried the gift of a disreputable soul would undermine all the things Jesus had done in his life and ministry.

Lavishing this perfume on his feet was even worse, for those feet had stepped in every vile thing feet can step in as Jesus wandered about the countryside, including being in and around sheep and their kind. To touch the feet was disgusting, and to slather on this perfume was probably amongst the grossest of insults to a people whose faith was built on holiness and cleanliness.

But Jesus saw the love she poured out, and accepted it as graciously as he accepted every gift he had ever been given, or token of love and care he had ever received in his all-too brief life in and amongst this vicious, judgmental, and perverse world of ours. If she could embrace the worst part of Jesus (figuratively speaking), surely the rest of us can accept the best he has to offer – his life and love.

Her gift did not taint Jesus; his life sanctified her. She did not pour perfume on Jesus to be sanctified by him; she did it because she realized he had already sanctified her, and if she was a sinner, she was free and no longer needed the bucket of perfume she brought to him. She was free to love the world the way he had loved the world, with a life unshackled by fear, shame, or prejudice.

Prayer: God, I am mostly tempted to show my love for you in little things here and there, but Saint Mary the Perfumer has taught us the beauty of pouring our whole lives out for you, just as she did, and just as you have. May we be so bold and brave to step out of our shackles of fear and shame, and boldly go where you have called us to go, in Jesus’ Name. Amen.

Keith Axberg+

Monday in Holy Week John 12:1-11

“... it was on account of (Lazarus) that many of the (people) were deserting and were believing in Jesus.” (John 12:11)

Why do I believe in Jesus? Why do we believe in Jesus? A Sunday school teacher from eons ago, a saint whose name I no longer know or recall, once said, “We are God’s children. All of us. God has no grandchildren, only children.”

God has no grandchildren. Yes, I went to church, driven by my folks, week in and week out. I went to Sunday school, sometimes kicking and screaming. I found the holy felt-figures stuck to felt-boards totally boring as those teachers, year after year, told us the “old old stories” from O so long ago. One does not arrive at the pearly gates riding on the coat-tails of friends or relatives, clergy or Sunday school teachers.

No, I came to believe because I saw other people receive Jesus into their hearts and lives as their own Savior. I didn’t ask if the “sinner’s prayer” was theologically sound or orthodox. I simply saw lives changed and changing, and so I believed and have devoted my life to proclaiming the love of God in word and deed. 

Lazarus received new life, so I believe God is calling us to desert our old, dead, stinking lives and follow Jesus ever more closely. As Peter once said, “Lord, to whom should we turn? You have the words to eternal life.” What more can we do, eh?

Prayer: Gracious God, you have called us to be your children, growing up under the shadow of your wing. Your love knows no bounds, for which we are truly thankful. Help us live into that reality so that others may see, and also believe. Although we may “stinketh,” command the stone be rolled back that we may burst forth from our own tombs and live in the power of your Spirit. Amen.

Keith Axberg+