This, Our Valley: When you’re thirsty, go for the gusto

"He turned the desert into pools of water, and the parched ground into flowing springs."  Psalm 107:35

I am not a water drinker. I drink water if it has first been heated up and dribbled through coffee grounds and a filter. Sometimes I’ll change things up and drink boiling water that has been colored by a bag of Red Rose or Lipton. I am not a connoisseur of teas or coffees, but if I am to hydrate this carcass in which I reside and with which I perambulate, then that water had best be flavored with something more than hydrogen and oxygen!

That’s the rule of thumb by which I live and move and have my being, but I must admit that (if no one is looking) I will sneak a few sips of ice water at a restaurant when we go out to eat. I always do so feeling a bit like a fraud, because I don’t really like the taste of water. The problem is it has no taste, and that’s what I find so tasteless about it.

But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve discovered the benefits of drinking water and the need for staying hydrated. The water where we live is clean, fresh, and soft. It is still tasteless and odorless, but it can be made palatable. I discovered an outfit that sells little squirt bottles of fruit flavors. They have no artificial flavors or sugars or sugar substitutes. Just fruit concentrate in a bottle from which a quick spurt of juice is enough to both flavor and color the water, and that’s all I need. A hint of substance!

Interestingly, water has been growing on me. My wife and I traveled back to Indiana last month to visit our daughter, family, and grandkids. We boarded the train and I came down with either a summer cold or allergies, making for a miserable trip (schnozola-wise, anyway). I had no interest in coffee (an experience unparalleled in my lifetime), but I was parched. It was as if we were stumbling through the desert sands of Beau Geste with Gary Cooper. 

What I craved, during the trip, was water (evidence that I was beyond delirium). Fortunately, we were in a sleeper unit, the price of which included all the bottled water we could drink – for free. I am not one to ever take advantage of free stuff just because it is free, but I threw caution to the wind and enjoyed guzzling down water throughout our trips East and West. I don’t know if the air in the railroad coaches was just dry, or if it was my allergies and/or cold that were making me so thirsty, but I was thankful to the nth degree for the water onboard, and having permission to draw from the well as freely as I was able.

I thought about that this week as I observed the continuing disintegration of the world around us. I see a world struggling in many ways and in many areas. What I notice mostly is a world where people are thirsty for something they just haven’t been getting – waters of justice, mercy, and grace.

The world is out of balance, and as we age, doctors tell us we need to drink more water; losing one’s balance and falling down is often a sign of dehydration. I joke about my love of coffee, which is no joke, but I do recognize and appreciate the value of water, and its contribution to our health and well-being (no pun intended). 

I also appreciate justice and freedom, which brings to mind another portion of Psalm 107, “(The Lord) pours contempt on nobles and makes them lose their way in trackless deserts; but lifts the needy out of their affliction” (v. 34ff).

It’s important to not only drink plenty of fluids, but to also find oases where one can rest one’s soul, replenish one’s spirits, and heal one’s wounds. There are places where the grass is green, the air quiet, the waters still; we will find there One holding a stout staff, standing their watch. Find that spot, lay out your blanket, and be at peace, for pain is inevitable, but misery optional. So, drink up here in this, our valley, and stay balanced, my friends. 

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 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