This, Our Valley: When the train choo choos up the scenery

 

"Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it."  Proverbs 22:6

I like to travel the world. Sadly, my income is such that it is mostly limited to what I can see from my laptop or television. Where would I be without Nat Geo Wild? 

I do venture forth from the house, of course. I may not explore the world as such, but I do manage to get places I need to go, like the grocer’s or some of the local eateries. Sometimes I get brave and expand my horizons to a degree that surprises even me.

Last month my wife and I decided to visit our daughter and her family in Indiana. We flew back there a few years ago and then drove back two years ago, so this time we decided to change things up and make it a trifecta, making the journey this year by rail. Like John Candy and Steve Martin, we can now say we’ve gone by Planes, Trains, and Automobiles!

Outside of a small excursion a few years ago from our home to visit our son in Seattle via Amtrak, we’ve never gone anywhere by rail as a couple or family. 

I did travel cross-country by rail one time, but it was as a young teen in the 1960s when our family visited relatives in the Chicago area. That was before Amtrak; we traveled by coach, and aside from the sheer tedium of the trips to and fro, I remember nothing about them beyond the rhythmic clackety-clack as we rolled over rail joints every one or two seconds. 

Those clacks are gone now as the trains glide along on “continuous welded rails,” but they still rock and roll side to side, so sometimes we felt like we were riding a  crabbing boat off the coast of Alaska. In fact, the best way to get to the dining car was to walk crab-like down the narrow aisles. My well-cushioned tush came in handy a number of times, I’ll tell you!

I also confess this trip involved our securing a roomette in a Sleeper car. The seats fold down into a single bed for one, whilst a bunk drops down from the ceiling, making space for the second guest. 

The chief advantage of a roomette is additional privacy, as well as meals in the dining car, which are included in the price of the sleeper unit. The main disadvantage is that the seats aren’t as comfortable as Coach seats, nor do they recline significantly (as they face each other). But the meals in the dining car were hot and delicious and varied enough we didn’t have to repeat any culinary options over the course of our two three-day trips as we traversed the country back and forth.

While Amtrak may not have high speed bullet trains as one might find in places like Japan and Europe, they did manage to zip along at just under eighty miles per hour for much of the trip.

I liked being able to walk around, stretch my legs, and chat with total strangers (as diners sat four to a table). We met people from England, Australia and the Far East, as well as the four corners of our own country. Each was pleasant. Each was polite. Like us, some were traveling to visit family while others were traveling to catch cruises to Alaska or the Panama Canal.

In every case, we were fellow travelers, making our way to destinations, none of which would materially impact the journey of the other. All we needed to do at mealtime was take our seats, break bread together, share a little bit about ourselves – whatever felt appropriate – and then depart in peace to tend to whatever needed tending. 

We were living in the moment, and that was a very civilizing experience for each of us; we were safe and secure from the cares and concerns of the world for those few days and, I think, just a little closer to heaven. At least that’s what I enjoyed about the trip.

I hope you, too, will enjoy civilizing experiences 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)

What on earth is faith?

Proper 14 – What on earth is faith?

Genesis 15:1-6 The Lord makes a promise, Abram believes; it’s counted as righteousness

Psalm 33:12-22 The Lord is our help and our shield; in their Name we put our trust

Hebrews 11:1-3, 8-18 Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, evidence of things unseen

Luke 12:32-40 It is your Father’s pleasure to give you the kingdom

Collect: Grant to us, Lord, we pray, the spirit to think and do always those things that are right, that we, who cannot exist without you, may by you be enabled to live according to your will; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. 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 want to talk with you this morning about faith. Faith is one of those words we use a lot, but I’m not sure we always know what we mean by it.

In our reading from HEBREWS (11:1) we read: “Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.”

What is “faith” though? What exactly do we mean?

We say we are members of the Christian faith. When we say that, we mean we are Christians, and if push comes to shove, if we’re asked what that means, we may point to the Nicene Creed or the Apostles’ Creed and say, “That. That’s what we mean.”

But that really doesn’t clarify things, does it? 

When Jesus says, “If you have faith as a mustard seed you can move mountains,” does that mean we can toss a copy of the prayer book at a mountain and it will be moved? Now, I find the creeds quite moving, but I don't think mountains do.

In Hebrews, the writer says, “Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” or as we have it in the King James version, which is the verse I memorized a century ago, “Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.

I like those two words better: Substance and Evidence.

Assurance sounds like something a parent does when a child is scared: “Now, now, now, everything’s going to be OK.”

As human beings, there are times we need assurance. One of the things we look for in our elected leaders when there is a catastrophe or major, bad, scary event, is for them to reach out and say, “We see what’s happening, and we’re on top of it. We’re going to be right there.”

Assurance is something we look for at every level of life. We look for it on a national and international level; on a state and local level; at work and at home.

We live in anxious times, and we worry. We worry about inflation. We worry about the economy. We worry about our neighbors getting dragged away by masked agents. We worry about our kids going to school and wonder if we will see them again.

The world we live in is no more scary that the world Jesus lived in or the one who wrote the book of Hebrews. People were scared. You had construction accidents where towers fell down and killed construction workers. You had the Romans standing on the necks of the local population with their hobnailed boots – disappearing people then, just like they are today.

You had children suffering from diseases, the mentally ill living among tombs, scaring people like wild boogey-men. You had tax-collectors beating folks for taxes, more taxes, and even more taxes after that – getting rich off the sweat of YOUR brow, the blood, sweat, and tears of YOUR labor.

The world hasn’t changed; it’s a scary place; it’s a dangerous place; it’s a challenging place, so the author of Hebrews wants to encourage his readers, encourage his listeners – to assure them that everything is going to be OK.

How do we know? Because God is with us. Not in the sense of affirming everything we say and do. There’s a lot of stuff we say and do that’s not so good, not so healthy. But that’s no different from everyone else in the list of saints Hebrews is talking about here.

So what does faith look like? Whether it’s substance or assurance, what does faith look like? 

For Abraham, it was to set out on a journey, trusting that God had a place for him and Sarah – a place for them and for their children and for their children’s children – even though they were childless at the time.

 Faith is moving out, moving out in trust – like Abram who had a vision that God was leading him, leading them to some place that would be theirs.

They had no idea where God was leading them, but they trusted God was with them. They stumbled and fell at times on this journey. They had their struggles; they feared for their lives at times; they lived in tents rather than homes. God promised to make a mighty nation of them, which seemed pretty silly as they couldn’t seem to bring even one child into the world.  

But God said, “Don’t worry about that; that’s my department, not yours. You do what you need to, I’ll do what I need to!”

And that’s the second thing about faith I want to talk about. Not only is it the substance of things hoped for – a home, a family – but it is “the evidence of things not seen.”

Faith is understanding that we are accepted by God. Not that we have accepted God, but that God has accepted us.

God said to Abram, “I’ve got a place for you.” Abram believed God, and God counted his faith as righteousness. In other words, “Abram, you’ve got it.”

Jesus takes the same approach in the Gospel today, doesn’t he?

“Do not be afraid, little flock,” he says, “for it is God’s great pleasure to give you the kingdom. 

“Empty yourselves; be generous. Make purses that don’t wear out; an unfailing treasure in heaven where you don’t have to fret over moths coming in and destroying it or thieves breaking in and stealing it.”

What is that treasure that never wears out? 

I’d like to suggest it’s joy, happiness, peace, and trust in God. “For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

Some years ago Barb and I and the family were returning home from visiting her sister in Fairfield (CA), and as we pulled up to the house, it was surrounded by police cars and flashing lights, and helicopters flying overhead.

“What’s going on here,” I wondered. As it turned out, police driving by had noticed a couple of men carrying things out of our house, and when they stopped to ask them who they were and what they were doing, the men dropped the goods and fled.

All the activity was about US! We were being burgled, and it’s amazing the trauma that comes with that; the violation of our space and security. I’m not overly materialistic; I try to be generous in time and treasure; I want to forgive 70 times 7 times, but this was like a dagger to my soul.

Even today I can’t go on vacation without wondering in the back of the mind just how safe our house will be. Will it be broken into? Will the water break and flood the house for weeks on end?

Jesus understands the trauma and says, “Rest assured, that’s important, but better yet, I’ve got you. I’ve got your back. I’ve got your soul. YOU are my treasure. You are my pearl of great price.”

And you know, when you know that deep down in your heart, that you’re loved, even when you don’t feel it 24/7 (because our hearts and minds just can’t do that 24/7) – but you’re  loved – we’re loved – and what we can do is realize, like with Abram and Sarai, that God has a place for us, and our only responsibility is to believe it, and act like it.

I’ve said here before that “believe” has its root in the Old German “belieben” or beloved. Belief isn’t what goes on up here between our ears, but down here within our hearts, so when we say We Believe (like in the Nicene Creed), what we’re saying is we embrace the One who created us (who creates us), we embrace the One who redeemed us (who redeems us), we believe the One who spoke to us through the prophets (who speaks to us to this day through the prophets).

As we believe God, as we embrace God, we do the things we are called to do. We are called to “act justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with our God” (Micah 6:8).

As Jesus says, “Be dressed for action; have your lamps lit. Be ready to open the door and welcome home the lord of the house.” 

You and I, you see, are the substance of God’s hope, the evidence of what God has not seen! Faith isn’t just what we’re about, but what God is looking for, too. 

When we look at the scriptures, when we read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest them, we see that God never acts alone; the saints never act alone. God and the people of God always work together to discern the will of God, to catch a vision of what God is saying, to catch a glimpse of where God is leading. 

Our visions may not always be perfectly clear, but Jesus invites us to try it. There’s an old saying: we’re not called to be successful, but to be faithful. 

So we open our eyes, open our ears, open our hearts, and open our hands, and trust God will have something of value for us to do and to be:

The people of God, in Jesus’ Name.

AMEN.

The Rev. Keith Axberg, Retired

Sermon delivered 08/10/2025 to Christ Episcopal Church, Anacortes, WA

Proper 13 Year C – Inheritance

 

The Collect: Let your continual mercy, O Lord, cleanse and defend your Church; and, because it cannot continue in safety without your help, protect and govern it always by your goodness; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

Hosea 11:1-11 The sad, parental God, (or Ecclesiastes 1:1-2, 12-14, 2:18-23) All is vanity

Psalm 107:1-9, 43 God satisfies the thirsty, fills the hungry, (or Psalm 49:1-11) We cannot ransom ourselves or deliver to God our price

Colossians 3:1-11 If you are in Christ, seek things from above

Luke 12:13-21 The foolishness of bigger barns

INHERITANCE

I am here to talk about inheritance. The Gospel today involves some sort of dispute between a couple of brothers over their inheritance. A few weeks ago we heard a lawyer ask Jesus, “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” (Luke 10:25ff, Proper 10) 

During Lent in Year C we hear the story of the Prodigal Son who wants his inheritance before his father has even had the courtesy of dying (Luke 15:11ff, Lent 4C). 

In Luke 18 we have the story of the rich young ruler who wants to know what HE must do to inherit eternal life, and Jesus tells him it’s easy-peasy – “ … just give away everything you have and give to the poor, and follow me.” 

In Luke 20 we have the story of the wicked vine-growers, the wicked tenants who refuse to pay their rent at harvest time, mistreat the rent-collectors, and conspire to kill the son of the landowner in some misguided hopes they will inherit the estate – after all, possession is nine points of the law, right?

Inheritance. 

The laws and customs surrounding inheritance vary from place to place, but they all boil down to who gets what, how much, and when.

When my grandmother turned 80, she figured it was time to update her last will and testament. She found an attorney to write it up and had him send a letter to each of her children. It was short, sweet, and came right to the point.

“I am preparing to write up my last will and testament. If anyone feels I owe them anything, you have 30 days to contact me so we can settle up. Otherwise, I’m dividing up my estate the way I want.”

She was not a rich woman. She lived in a home-made shack with tar paper siding. But she also knew her children, and she knew human nature, and she knew her scriptures, and so she did everything she could to keep her family from squabbling over her bones like a pack of hyenas.

“Teacher, tell my brother to divide the family inheritance with me.” (Luke 12:13)

The point about inheritance we sometimes overlook is someone has to die. In Jesus’ day, inheritance had less to do with money and more to do with property. 

When Israel came into the promised land after the Exodus, the land was divided up amongst the 12 tribes. That was their inheritance. That was God’s gift to them, and the land was handed down from generation to generation to work, to take care of.

It wasn’t theirs to own, as much as it was theirs to take care of and pass along to future generations. 

It was sort of that Native American sense that "We do not inherit the earth from our ancestors, we borrow it from our children."

The Hebrew scriptures put it this way: “All things come of thee, O Lord, and of thine own have we given thee.” (1 Chronicles 29:14)

That’s a biblical understanding of the land and our relationship to the land.

But in the days of Jesus, the world has changed. The ideal of stewardship had shifted to a focus on ownership. Land was less inheritance and more of an asset. It could be bought and sold like fishes or figs, wheat or wine, sheep or oxen.

The land tied you down, but gold and silver freed you up, so you could leave and go places (like the younger brother in the parable of the prodigal son, who said, “I want my money and I want it NOW!”).

Inheritance requires death, and in all our stories about inheritance in the Gospel of Luke, we find a common theme, a common element: Death. 

But not just death of the father (who, in the parable of the prodigal son hasn’t even died yet) , but death between brethren.

In the Prodigal son, the kid says, “Dad, you and my brother are dead to me. Give me what’s mine; I’m leaving.”

When he comes home, he is shocked by his father who runs out, embraces him, protects him, and restores him to the family. Life after death!

The older son says, “Dad, now you’re dead to me. You never treated me like that. Your other son is also still dead to me. That hasn’t changed.”

In some ways, they’re replaying the story of Jacob and Esau from the book of Genesis, aren’t they? 

Jacob cheated his brother Esau out of his birthright, his blessing. Jacob had to flee for his life to a far country, worked 14 years for his uncle Laban (who also cheated him by switching daughters – Rachel and Leah), stole the Laban family gods, and finally returned home where he had sort of this half-hearted reunion with his brother Esau, after which they went their separate ways. (Genesis 28-30)

In the Gospel today, we see nothing has changed. Not only is the father dead (apparently), but the surviving brothers are also now dead to one another. 

This is the tragedy Jesus sees and points out. “Who made me a judge and arbiter over you?” he asked.

It’s not about what we have, but what has us.

As Jesus says, “Beware, and be on your guard against EVERY form of greed; for not even when one has an abundance does their life consist of their possessions.” (12:15)

The question we have to face is this: Who’s doing the dying, and who’s doing the killing? 

“Thou shalt do no murder,” says the Commandment. But isn’t that what’s happening in this story?  

God has given us hearts with which to love and heal, but fear and greed have freeze-dried those hearts, turning them into stone cold blocks of ice. 

Look at Gaza. People aren’t starving; they’re being starved. People aren’t dying. They’re being killed. Palestinians are dead to the Israelis, and Israelis are dead to the Palestinians.

Before we point fingers, though, we also have to ask how we’re doing. 

Are we doing any better in these days of heightened outrage between left and right, rich and poor, gender fluidity and gender rigidity, and all the other polar opposites with which we struggle to live and move and have our being?

Is that how you want to live? Is that how we want to live?

“You may think you’re building barns,” says Jesus, “but in reality, you’re only building mausoleums into which God will lay your body and soul for all eternity. Is that what you want?”

In the Gospel of John, Jesus says, “I have come that you might have life and have it in abundance.”

Abundant life has nothing to do with our possessions, but with our relationships. 

In our Mission Statement here, we say that we believe that “God is healing and restoring the world, and that we are recipients of and participants in that healing and restoration.”

That comes from the mind of God, that comes from the heart of Jesus, that comes from the breath of God’s life-giving Spirit.

Jesus begs us to step out of ourselves long enough to see what we are doing to one another and asking, “Is this what God wants? Is this leading us towards the light, or into darkness? towards life or death? towards healing or destruction? towards wisdom or towards foolishness?

As Jesus says, we can’t control whether we will live or die, but we can choose how we shall live until we die. 

That choice is our inheritance.  So let’s choose wisely, in Jesus’ Name. Amen. 

Sermon delivered to St. Paul’s, Mount Vernon, WA 08/03/2025

This, Our Valley: When the warranty runs out

 

"Show me your ways, O Lord, and teach me your paths.” Psalm 25:3

Legend has it that when Alexander Graham Bell invented the telephone, he rang up his assistant and said, “Mr. Watson, come here, I want to see you.” That was in 1876. What was never recorded was the second call,”We’re calling to inform you that your car’s warranty has expired.” To which Watson asked, “What’s a car?”

I was thinking about that the other day when I picked up my cell phone to take a picture of some lilies that have bloomed ever so prettily on our back deck this past week, but the cell phone’s display was all out of focus. I checked to confirm I had on my glasses as my peepers aren’t what they once were (in terms of visual acuity). My specs were fine, as was the cell phone display screen. It turned out the problem was the glass that covers the camera’s lens on my phone was broken.

What a pane in the glass, I exclaimed to no one but myself. I bought a repair kit online but couldn’t remove the broken glass or dissolve the glue that holds it in. I called a local cell phone repair shop and left messages, but they never returned my call. I assume they were on hold waiting to hear back about their own extended car warranty matters.

So I bit the bullet and went down to my local cellular service provider to see what they could do. I shared my tale of woes with the customer service representative who greeted me warmly upon my entering their fine establishment. “We don’t do phone repairs,” he confessed, “but let’s see what we can do.” 

He checked my plan and noted that I was due for an upgrade anyway, and that between trading in the old phone and applying current rebates and cancelling my old plan for a better unlimited (and cheaper) plan, that I could, at the end of everything, pay about twenty dollars a month less than I had been currently paying. I could see it was a great deal, even if I hadn’t been wearing my eyeglasses!

I gave him my go-ahead and we got the process underway of not only buying the new phone, but transferring all my apps and files from the old phone to the new one. This was all done wirelessly: no cables, computer interfaces, or other assorted gizmos. Just two devices talking to one another quietly, silently and, perhaps, lovingly as siblings – children of Mother Pixel.

I did have the cellular whiz install both a screen protector as well as camera lens-glass protection while we waited. When we were finished, the fine young man thanked me warmly for my time and business, and I went home to begin the arduous process of applying all the updates, user-names, passwords, and PINs that had not been transferred between devices (for the sake of security).

Life throws us curves. I make every effort to take things as they come, take them in stride, and not let those curves fuzz up my day like the image of a lily through the crinkled lens of some coal-fired antique of a cell phone. 

Why let mechanical failure or accidental damage send me off in a tiff or a huff? Stuff happens, as any cattle rancher will tell you. You either watch where you step, or you wear boots. Either way, you do what you need to do and move on.

“Show me your ways, O Lord,” prays the psalmist. That line is a standard part of my daily devotions. It doesn’t matter if that “way” takes me to still waters, green pastures, or even the valley of the shadow of death (or cracked glass). “Thou art with me,” says the psalmist a few psalms earlier.

I like to think God works as seamlessly alongside us as those two mobile units there in the cellular showroom – one broken, in need of repair, and one ready to receive everything the other had to offer, without judgment, without prejudice, without fear.

Better yet, God comes with no spam, no dropped calls, and no being put on hold. Just being held closely in the palm of God’s hand with a message clear as day, “I love you.” Not in text, but in Person – who’s warranty never expires 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)

Proper 10 – Who is not my neighbor?

Proper 10 – Who is not my neighbor?

Amos 7:7-17, Psalm 82, Deut. 30:9-14, Psalm 25:1-9, Col. 1:1-14, Luke 10:25-37

O Lord, mercifully receive the prayers of your people who call upon you, and grant that they may know and understand what things they ought to do, and also may have grace and power faithfully to accomplish them; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

Some years ago I was driving along the east shore of Ennis Lake in Montana. There’s a gravel road that runs past our little church in Jeffers where I was serving, and I think I was heading out to do a home visit on one of our elderly shut-ins. It was summertime and warm and I was just bumping along; I came around a shallow corner and saw a bicyclist walking her bike. 

She had on one of those bright red racing helmets cyclists like to wear, along with a nice sleek spandex racing suit – sort of looked out of place on the gravelly roads of the woodsy wilds of Western Montana.

I didn’t think too much of it; I slowed down and moved over to give her plenty of room and suddenly wondered if she had a flat tire or some other problem.

So I stopped and backed up to where she had come to a halt and asked if she was OK, or if she needed any help. She smiled, said she was fine, just stretching her legs, so I gave her a polite wave and continued on my way.

The question I want to ask you is, Why did I stop?

You’re probably going to say, “You’re a nice guy. She looked like she might need some help, and that’s what Christians do; we help people.”

You’re right, of course. I am a nice person and I do like being helpful. But there was something else going on. It wasn’t chivalry. As I passed her by, I knew the Gospel for that Sunday was the gospel lesson we just read a moment ago: The Parable of the Good Samaritan, and there was no way I was going to be like the priest in THAT story and pass by without at least asking if she needed help.

In other words, my ego put its thumb on the scale as I weighed whether I should pass on by and mind my own business, or stop and help!

The point is, as human beings, our motivations are always mixed. Most of the time we do the right thing simply because that’s mostly who we are and what we are. We know right from wrong. We pay our taxes. We pause and let others cut in line if they have two items to buy and we’ve got a grocery cart full. If someone says something really stupid or dumb we just let it go.

We may groan inside; we may have to bite our tongue, but we mostly don’t fight fire with fire unless the issue reaches that tipping point which kind of moves around a bit, but it’s there. We go along to get along and try not to make waves.

In many ways, we’re like the lawyer who comes up to Jesus and asks him, “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” 

Jesus says, “You know the Law. What does it say?”

He answered, "You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself." 

And Jesus said to him, "You have given the right answer; do this, and you will live."

We all know that, don’t we? We know we’re supposed to love God, love neighbor, love self. We also know there’s exceptions to the rule, don’t we? I mean, we’re not fools; we’re not naive. There are bad people out there who do bad things. Each of us has our own list of Public Enemy Number One. 

Yes Lord, I am called to love all people, but there are exceptions. Do we have time to write them all down?

We have our reasons for disliking some people; we have our reason for hating some people; we have our reasons for detesting some people. We’re like the lawyer who at least has the good sense to ask the question: Who is my neighbor? Aren’t there some people I can just box out of my life?

I can’t criticize the lawyer for asking the question. I need to take a moment and stand in his sandals and ask: Who am I trying to push far enough away that they are no longer my neighbor?

He’s not being bad; he’s really asking this question on behalf of all of us. Where can we draw the line? 

Jesus answers the question with a story. We know it so well we don’t even need to read it or hear it. The moment I say The Parable of the Good Samaritan, we jump right to the end – to the moral of the story: “Who proved to be neighbor? Go and do likewise.”

We don’t have a lot of time, but I’d like to unpack that a little while we’re here. The question is, Who is my neighbor? And Jesus introduces us to several characters, and along each step of the way we need to ask: Is this our neighbor.

There’s a man going down to Jericho. Is he our neighbor? We don’t know. At this point he is a complete stranger. We don’t know if he’s single or married, Jew or Gentile, slave or free, young or old. So we give this guy a question mark. We don’t actually know if he is a neighbor. At this point he’s not NOT a neighbor.

Then there is a band of bandits who attack the man, beat him half to death, steal his valuables, strip him naked, and run away. Are they neighbors? Of course not! 

Then there is the priest (and they were among the 1% by the way, among the wealthy elite of the day) who passes on by. Our victim is invisible to them. Are they neighbor? No, they’re certainly not acting neighborly or caring, so no.

Then there is the Levite, a temple worker who sees our victim; he draws near to look, to gawk, but not to touch, not to help, not to render aid. Is he a neighbor? No, once again we can see they’re not.

Then there is the Samaritan. Now remember, this is one you would rather be dead than have them touch you. We’re not talking about political or religious differences. 

We’re really talking about gut-churning, get your filthy ape paws off of me kind of animosity. But here’s the shocker: He undoes all the evil of the other three. He sees the victim. He draws near and touches him. He binds up the wounds, picks him up, lays him on his own beast and finishes the journey to Jericho where he pays for our victim’s continuing care.

Who proves to be neighbor?

The one who doesn’t abuse, beat, kill, maim, or hurt others; the one who doesn’t turn a blind eye, the one who dares to get involved, the one who chooses to see people, not walls. 

None of us is perfectly like that. There are times we hurt others. There are times we are blind to others. There are times we may be entertained to see what’s happening, but fail to act on what we see. And that’s the point. There are times we do NOT love God, neighbor, or self the way we know we should. 

Jesus invites us to reflect on that and give thanks that we have a God who chose not to kill us, turn a blind eye, or ignore us, but chose to kneel down with us, bind us up, and carry us all the way to our Jericho so that we can continue with our healing.

God chose to be our neighbor, in Christ, so it doesn’t matter who MY neighbor is, it matters that I BE a neighbor wherever I go, just like Jesus – In Jesus’ Name. Amen

Sermon delivered to Chandler Square, Anacortes, WA 07/13/2025

By the Rev. Keith Axberg, retired.

This our Valley: The safety belt that wasn’t!

 

"My boundaries enclose a pleasant land; indeed, I have a goodly heritage” Psalm 16:6

I did something the other day I haven’t done in decades. I put something together over the course of several hours … and I didn’t bleed!

That may not sound all that amazing to most of you, but I confess that while I possess a fair amount of skill and coordination – enough to do many of the little things that need doing around the house – when it comes to working with sheet metal and other sharp objects, I make Freddy Krueger look like a rank amateur and a pacifist rolled into one. I’ve even been known to suffer paper cuts while sending email! Anyway …

I received a new barbecue grill for Father’s Day. The old one had served its purpose faithfully for almost twenty years, but earth, wind, fire, rain, and ice had taken their toll. So off she went, and in came the box from an online retailer that shall remain nameless (I don’t know how the owner of the website had time to ship it as he was so busy planning his wedding in Venice, but I digress).

The new charcoal grill was well-packed in its carton. Usually opening a box is where I begin my blood-letting, but I was able to open the box, remove its contents, and toss all the packing material off to the garage without opening any wounds. So far so good!

I then began to assemble the new grill, despite horrible instructions written in either sanskrit or cuneiform (it was hard to tell as the print and illustrations were possibly drafted by an ink-squirting octopus). Nevertheless, due to my superior intellect and aforementioned skills and coordination, the barbecue grill went together with nary a scratch, bruise, or loss of limb. 

I DO believe in miracles!

What’s funny (as in strange or weird) is that a few days later as I was getting ready for bed, I took off my shirt and noticed a two to three inch slash across my stomach. Now, my shirts are cloth (as opposed to steel wool or chain-mail), and I wash them in soft water and my laundry detergent is infused with a fabric softener; my fingernails are trimmed neatly, and I’m really a gentle spirit when preparing for the time of lullabies in the land of snores, so how on earth did I injure myself?

I could not have cut my tummy while assembling the barbecue, for I worked fully clothed, and as slow as I can sometimes be in my advancing dotage, my wounds are never days late in developing or showing themselves. 

So, it’s a mystery, and that’s OK. I didn’t bleed out, and it honestly was barely more than a finger-length scratch. It was just bizarre that it had happened, and I had no recollection of when or how it might have happened. 

Life is like that. Things happen to us and we don’t always know how or why. Sometimes there simply is no reason why. In hindsight, it could very well have been done by the seatbelt on my truck, for the strap that goes across the stomach is worn and does have a bit of a toothy edge to it that can (and does) rub me the wrong way occasionally.

Well, I do believe that’s another mystery solved, which creates a new mystery, of course. 

How might I prevent myself from being sliced and diced in the future? I do so little driving anymore, it really isn’t necessary or cost-effective to replace the seatbelt. Perhaps I could purchase a knee-length chain-mail hauberk for use when driving. I’ll wait and see if Jeff B. has any in stock, but only after he gets back from his honeymoon. 

After all, I wouldn’t want to order a hauberk just to have him go berserk. I’m afraid that could fold, spindle, or mutilate our relationship beyond repair. 

Speaking of spindles and other sharp objects, it’s time to restock the band aids. I just got an ash vacuum cleaner for the barbecue and need to open the box now 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)

This, Our Valley: When cranky windows open hearts

"Although the world is full of suffering, it is also full of the overcoming of it.” Helen Keller

My wife and I drove to Spokane a few weeks ago to help lay to rest a long-time friend of ours. She had asked for me to conduct the graveside service for her and her family, and I was only too honored to do that for them. She was a special lady.

The weather in Spokane was hot and steamy, so I rolled down the windows to our truck when we got to the cemetery and parked. When we were finished, we got back into the truck and as we got ready to join the family for a light lunch afterwards, the truck’s windows wouldn’t roll back up!

I say “roll” as if that’s what they do. The truck has power windows; the windows go up or down at the push or pull of a switch. None of the switches were working. The irony was not lost on me that they had died at the cemetery. I uttered a quick little prayer, but the only answer I got in return was a passage from the Bible where it is written, “He (God) will raise them up at the last day.”

Ah, so now God is a comedian, eh?

Fortunately, while God was cracking jokes in that crack-a-doodle space laughingly called my brain, he saw to it one of the family members had the wherewithal to fix the issue. Our friend saw we were having problems, came over, and played around with the switches, wiggling jiggling and manipulating them all willy-nilly until, one-by-one, each window was returned to its full and upright position. Whew!

I did not work the windows the rest of the trip, which was otherwise pretty uneventful. When we got home a few days later, a package was sitting on the front porch: a set of replacement window switches, courtesy of our son (upon whom I had laid the burden of my tale). It took me about fifteen minutes to swap out the switches, and everything is now as good as new.

I don’t know if people appreciate just how wonderful it is to have a problem and find relative strangers ready, willing, and able to help at the drop of a hat. Perhaps they did it because I am clergy or a friend of the family, but I suspect they would have offered the same help to anyone facing the same problem. Some people are simply born helpers.

I have no doubt that I could have jiggled and played with the window switches when they wouldn’t work, and maybe I would have had the same success – or maybe not. Letting go (of my ego) allowed God to work through someone else, and that’s OK. God often works better through the laity than through the clergy – better through amateurs than through professionals. Remember, an amateur built the Ark, while professionals built the Titanic.

I should also note that my “quick work” replacing the window switch assembly had little to do with my innate mechanical skills or understanding of how cars and trucks are put together. I went on YouTube and watched a total stranger show me how to do exactly what I needed to do, step by step. 

 
While we may decry all the stupid stuff we find online (ice bucket challenges, dancing teeny-boppers, and things one cannot unsee once they’ve been seen), the fact is that many people post videos to show the rest of us slobs just how to do things we don’t know how to do ourselves. 

They are truly angels who entertain us, often unaware of their own divine nature(s)!

There is an old saying that suffering is inevitable, but misery’s a choice. A problem shared is a problem halved. I think our world would be a lot more pleasant if we took those truths to heart and found ways to help one another when any are facing adversity. I’ve never regretted being nice. Never.

 
It seems a cliche, but it is so nice when people work together to fix problems rather than fighting with one another while fixing blame. I prefer to look for and find solutions. Let’s not wait for God to raise them up for us here in this, our valley. By then it may be too late!

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)

When the Spirit of truth comes, She will Guide you

 TRINITY SUNDAY 

Collect: Almighty and everlasting God, you have given to us your servants grace, by the confession of a true faith, to acknowledge the glory of the eternal Trinity, and in the power of your divine Majesty to worship the Unity: Keep us steadfast in this faith and worship, and bring us at last to see you in your one and eternal glory, O Father; who with the Son and the Holy Spirit live and reign, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

Proverbs 8:1-4, 22-31   Romans 5:1-5   John 16:12-15

Psalm 8 or Canticle 13 (or Canticle 2)

When the Spirit of truth comes, She will guide you into all the truth

What a difference a week makes. Last week the Spirit blew through here on Pentecost as we celebrated the birth of the Church, the ministry of Fr. Paul and Karisse, the Aztec Dancers and all of that. You could really feel the Spirit at work.

Spirit. Ruach. Pneuma. Wind. Breath.

Jesus says, “When the Spirit of truth comes, she will guide you into all truth.”

I say “she” because in Hebrew and Aramaic, spirit is a feminine noun. In the Greek it doesn’t have a gender, but that’s OK. 

I think wind is a wonderful way to describe God. Don’t you?

I like to go out and water our yard by hand whenever it’s looking a little dry. We don’t have a sprinkler system, so we have to do it by hand. We’ve got those expandable hoses that aren’t supposed to kink (but they do), and I like to stretch the hose out to the farthest point of the flower beds and water each plant one by one. I don’t want to set out a sprinkler and water the whole flower bed, because I don’t want to water the weeds that keep springing up. So I water the plants I want to live and thrive, and I try to make sure all the weeds die of thirst.

Hey, I’m cruel. What can I say?

But do you know what? I keep the nozzle on spray because I don’t want the jet spray to blast away the dirt around the base of the plants. So I use the shower setting. Unfortunately, the wind (and it seems like things are much windier these days than I remember from years past) – “the wind blows where it wills” as Jesus says, and the water blows off course so that even the part of creation I don’t care for gets some of my water.

And that’s OK. That’s how the Spirit operates. Too often we try to control God, control life, control the Spirit. Like Jesus told Nicodemus earlier in John’s Gospel, “The wind blows where it will. You don’t know where it’s coming from; you don’t know where it’s going to” – but “going” is what she does. The wind and the Spirit don't stand still. The wind and the Spirit don't sit still.

Sometimes She’s a calm, cool breeze. Sometimes She’s a blustery old windbag. The one thing She’s not, though, is controllable!

That’s the thing about the Spirit. That’s the thing about the truth. They’re both messy. They’re both uncontrollable. And they’re both propelling us where God wants us to go. That’s the Good News.

Jesus says the Spirit will guide us into all truth  … 

Just what is that TRUTH Jesus expects the Spirit to guide us into?

Well, it may seem counter-intuitive, but we’ve got to start off with what Jesus said. “I still have many things to say to you, but you can’t bear them now.”

It’s like what the colonel says on the witness stand in the movie A FEW GOOD MEN: “You want the truth? You can’t handle the truth!” He’s just quoting Jesus!

The truth is like a toddler who doesn’t want to go anywhere or doesn’t want to do anything. You try to pick them up – to “bear” them – and they twist and turn; they go limp. They basically have to die before you can finally pick them up and carry them away. The truth is that some of our ideas about God and Jesus have to die, and so do we.

The truth is, says Jesus, is that we are like toddlers, and it isn’t until we collapse and die that Momma Spirit can pick us up and get us going where she wants us to go.

I don’t like the term “losers,” but that’s basically what we have to be, or to recognize, is that we are losers, babies, toddlers (as Christians) and that’s OK. It’s not an insult. Jesus says, “When you can accept the truth, and die to self, you’ll finally be in a situation where I can do something with you.”

“I don’t want to die!” – “But you’ve got to.”

Let me give you a couple of quick examples. John the Baptizer was a loser. He was a powerful prophet, a lot like Elijah, a lot like Moses. But when Jesus came along, his numbers went down as people started to follow Jesus. “He must increase,” he mumbled, “while I must decrease. That’s just the way it is.” 

Then, as we know, he gets arrested by Herod because he dared to criticize that era’s orange despot. You know the story: Herod threw himself a birthday bash (probably had a parade of chariots in the morning), and then an orgy in the evening. Eventually, John loses his head, and Jesus says, “There was no greater prophet than John, yet the one who is least in the kingdom of God is greater than he.”

God can’t really use us, it seems, until we’re dead.

Then there is Nicodemus in John 3. Another loser. A teacher of Israel who comes to Jesus at night. Scared of being seen. Doesn’t know what Jesus is all about. Jesus tells him, “You must be born from above, or you must be born again.” There is word-play going on here in the Greek.

Nicodemus snarfs at the idea – an old man crawling back into their mother’s womb. Either she’s dead or she won’t have me, he laughs.

“Ah, but it is God who gives birth,” says Jesus. Watch out! Daddy God becomes Mommy God. It seems God could be transgender here, but the point Jesus is making is we have to die before God can do their work. First-birth came from the womb; second-birth comes through the tomb. Through death we find new life. 

We can’t bear the truth, says Jesus, but God can bear us when we just lie down and die like the spiritual toddlers we are.

Another example? How about the woman at the well in the fourth chapter of John’s Gospel? A Samaritan (loser); a woman (a loser among losers); a woman who has had five husbands (so she either has very loose morals, or she’s a really lousy cook) – so a loser times five (not to mention the man she’s living with isn’t her husband (probably needs to get her a cookbook before he offers to marry her).

“You can’t drink from the well of the water of life until you find yourself dying of thirst,” says Jesus. Even when she shared the good news with the townsfolk, they said, “It’s not because of what you told us we believe, but because we have heard for ourselves and believe this one is the savior of the world.” 

One more example from the Gospel of John? How about the story of Lazarus we heard toward the end of Lent? Lazarus is sick. Mary and Martha beg Jesus to come quickly to help him get better. Jesus dawdles. Can you believe it? Jesus dawdles. After a few days he finally gets up and goes to Bethany to see what he can do, but it’s too late. Loser Lazarus has lost his life. He’s not just dead; he’s dead and buried.

Mary and Martha are livid. I don’t blame them. They’re losers. They’ve lost their beloved brother, the "man" of the house, which means their own lives in the community may be somewhat tenuous, maybe somewhat at risk, too. Jesus asks them if they believe in the resurrection, which seems a bit cruel. 

Resurrection is one of those theological matters that’s fine to talk about in theory – oh yeah, someday God will raise us up, yada yada yada. Anyway, Lord, if you’d have been here we wouldn’t need to be having this conversation, you git!”

“You want life? You’ve got to die with me,” says Jesus. 

Dead. Not a metaphor. Not asleep. Dead. Dead as a doornail. Dead, like Lazarus who was 4 days dead in the grave dead – so dead Martha and Mary could smell him from the street.

“But I want you to see what God can do,” says Jesus. So Jesus cried out with a loud voice: Lazarus, “deuro exo” – Come out!” Exo is the same root where we get exodus – the same word Jesus used when he turned his face toward Jerusalem from the Mount of Transfiguration and said, “It is time for my exodus.”

So in the Gospel today, Jesus says, “This is tough stuff, and you may not think you can handle it. But Momma God – the Spirit – will guide you.

And really, this is where we are as we enter into these summer months and the six long months following Pentecost. The color is green, like grass. It represents growth. But green is also the color of new growth – of saplings that aren’t quite ready for harvesting, and that’s just fine. 

It is a reminder the son of the carpenter will be working with us, whittling away on us, finding ways to use us as we build the kingdom here in 2025 and beyond. 

We’ve entered into a transition time, and it’s every bit a tiny death we experience, with Fr. Paul and Karisse moving on, with the diocese stumbling around trying to figure out what to do, or how to be helpful. 

The temptation is to rush things. There will be steps and mis-steps; there will be communication glitches and mistakes made, and all of that is OK, because Jesus said, “I will not leave you. I will not abandon you. You can have your melt-downs when things get overwhelming, and that’s OK, because I will be with you to the end of the age. I will provide a Comforter to walk beside you, to guide you, to remind you of the things I said and did. All you need to do is tell the world what you’ve heard, show the world what God has done, and then relax.”

As Jesus said in John 8 after healing the man born blind (another loser, by the way) – “Jesus said to those who believed in him, ‘if you abide in my word, you are truly my disciples’ (there’s that word “truth” again), ‘and you shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free.’”

We are free to die so that we may live. That’s the Gospel. That’s the Spirit! In the name of God who created us, God who redeems us, and God who guides us in our journey. Amen 

Delivered at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Trinity Sunday, June 15, 2025 (Father’s Day)

The Rev. Keith Axberd, Ret.

John 16:12-15

Jesus said to the disciples, "I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now. When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all the truth; for he will not speak on his own, but will speak whatever he hears, and he will declare to you the things that are to come. He will glorify me, because he will take what is mine and declare it to you. All that the Father has is mine. For this reason I said that he will take what is mine and declare it to you."

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."