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."