This, Our Valley: What to do when your “Grrr Friend” comes to visit

 

"Give up anger, abandon fury, do not be vexed; it can only do harm” Psalm 37:8 (TANAKH)

I don’t go out of my way to be obnoxious. I don’t go out of my way to irritate people. I am careful where I tread, where I walk, how I speak, what I say. I strive not to take offense at every little thing, and strive equally not to give offense. So what’s wrong with me?

The first time I saw a copy of Desiderata, I made it my life’s goal (among many) to “go placidly among the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence” (translated by Max Ehrmann, origin unk).

There is a time and place for anger, of course. Jesus got angry on occasion, but it was seldom for the same sort of reasons you or I might get our dander up. His anger was generally directed at demons (real and metaphorical) that hurt or injured others. Jesus’ anger generally arose from matters of injustice, hypocrisy, or falsehoods in the world around him. 

Me? My anger tends to be egocentric. I have pet peeves and it really irritates me when people go around petting them all the time. 

I had a doctor’s appointment the other day that got changed while I was on my way to their office. It was a routine visit, nothing major, but my inner peeve snapped and growled – took it quite personally. Why didn’t they tell me it was changed when I confirmed the appointment an hour earlier? Grrr.

I like things to start and end on time. When I expect to see my ball game on the telly, but the earlier game is running long or goes into overtime, pre-empting my show until it’s done (the so-called “Heidi rule”) my peeve’s knickers get all bunched up and twisted. You don’t want your hand to be in my bowl of popcorn when that happens; it just isn’t safe! Grrr.

Then there are the world’s polite drivers who arrive at four way stops at the same time I do. They often have the gall to try to out-polite me, and then stop and go repeatedly as we strive mightily to figure out who is finally going to win the game of four-way chicken. Grrr.

That’s life, though, isn’t it? It’s never the big things that get us down or kill us. It’s the million  tiny little things that simply add up, pile up, and mount up until the soul snaps like the back of the proverbial straw-bearing camel. Which reminds me: Where does one get camel’s milk? From the dromedary.

Anyway, I digress. There’s a lot that can get our goats. We’re only human, and as good as life is for most of us, there are tons of little things that can (and do) get us down from time to time. Grrr.

I have often thought about putting up positive-thinking type sticky notes people post on their bathroom mirrors or refrigerators, but then I realize one of my pet peeves are all those silly positive sayings and the clutter they create on those surfaces. I sometimes want to strangle the people who write that saccharine tripe. Grrr.

So, at the risk of being simplistic, maudlin, saccharine, or falsely perky, let me just say that there has been one thing more than any other that has helped me overcome those bouts of anger or frustration that do fall upon me from time to time, and that is this. Wait. Wait. Wait.

That’s it. I don’t mean stopping in the middle of a four-way intersection or doing anything stupid like that. I just mean, wait. Pause. Take a breath or two. Shift your attention for a moment from the thing that is irritating you to something else. Anything else. 

Picture your child or grandchild’s smile. Your dog’s wagging tail. Your spouse’s return home from a trip away. The brightness of the moon or the coo of a morning dove. 

All it takes is a moment to flush the anger from your system, adjust your panties as needed, and “remember what peace there may be in silence.” Have a grrreat week, my friends 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: Finding the funny bone – that’s humerus

 

"Hear this, you that trample on the needy, and bring to ruin the poor of the land … the Lord has sworn … surely I will never forget any of their deeds.” Amos 8 (excerpted)

There is a lot dividing our country right now, but don’t worry, I don’t do politics in this column. It is almost impossible to avoid the topic during these acrimonious times, and while I certainly have my own perspective and opinion(s) on a great many matters facing us, my goal here is and always has been to provide a space in which one can escape the hellscape that is current affairs. 

I want this to be an oasis of calm where one can find tranquility and peace. Not so much an escape from reality, but a place that is as safe as any sanctuary bounded by seven hundred words (give or take a few).

Humor is my coping mechanism. It isn’t that I take serious matters lightly, but I simply perceive them differently. I am not colorblind, and neither is my wife, but we almost never call anything the same color. Where she sees purple, I see violet. Where she sees chartreuse, I see avocado. My truck is a color that you see everywhere, but whereas one of us sees it as bluish, the other sees it as greenish, and the manufacturer calls it something else entirely, neither of which includes blue or green!

Where does humor come from? 

Funny you should ask. I don’t know the answer as I’m neither a scientist nor a doctor. I haven’t studied the brain (my own or anyone else’s for that matter) except for a few cursory psychology courses in college. I do have three quarters of a century of lived experience, so I’ve picked up  scraps of information about life and humor here and there through the ages, but as to why? What makes something funny or not? I don’t know. 

What I do know is that if I obsess over matters about which I have little or no control, I feel miserable. If I have a choice about feeling miserable or cheerful, I look for and find things that promote cheerfulness. Loose synapses and brain chemistry cause me to see things in a way others don’t. That’s just the way God made me. I can cry about it or I can laugh about it. I choose to laugh; I agree with Puck, who said, “Lord, what fools these mortals be.”

There are, of course, some forms of humor I don’t find humorous at all (and which one would not find in the hallowed pages of a family newspaper, or in a preacher’s preaching), so that works out well for me (and the paper, and the church). 

But I do enjoy dad jokes (Where do pirates get their hooks? Second hand stores), puns (a farmer is one who is outstanding in their field), malaprops (Be careful lest you meet the grim creeper), and other forms of wordplay (“Between you and me, something smells,” said one eye to the other). 

I prefer to poke fun at the arrogant (he’s a humble man with much to be humble about) or see the light side of situations (I’m glad war has rules – what we need now are referees).  

I don’t mind poking fun at myself (I identify as intelligent, but haven’t transitioned yet), but I don’t like making fun of other people (unless they REALLY deserve it). 

I enjoy hyperbole (If I’ve told you once I’ve told you a million times, Don’t exaggerate!) as well as incongruity (Why did the elephant paint its toenails red? So you wouldn’t see it hiding in the cherry tree). 

The bottom line for me (which is a funny place to find a line) is that humor can inflame folks (exposing hypocrisy), but it can also change hearts (Ah yes, saving money does make cents). One key to retaining one’s sanity during times of stress is to bear in mind that there is much we cannot control, but we CAN control how we respond to the world around us. 

I prefer to smile – to keep people wondering just what I’ve been up to. So welcome to this, our valley – a parlour where we can parlez-vous in peace.

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: The Golden Rule is that gold does NOT rule

 

"The twelve gates were twelve pearls, each gate made of a single pearl. The great street of the city was of gold, as pure as transparent glass.” Revelation 21:21

The days are growing noticeably shorter and cooler. The daytime temperatures are fine, and the overnight lows aren’t all that chilly, but the signs of autumn are all around us.

I notice it most with the wood. Every spring and fall, the wood floors around the house sound like crispy rice cereal. The floors snap, crackle, and pop – which wouldn’t be so bad except they aren’t in sync with the snap, crackle, and pops our joints make when we walk. Uff da!

One of the bathroom doors has also decided to shift on its hinges and rub the floor a tad bit before it closes. What’s worse is it won’t stay open or in place. The whole house seems to be twisting on its axis with the change in weather. 

Then there is the garden gate through which we haul our trash bins each week. The change in air temperature and humidity has swollen the planks on the gate so that they rub the threshold when we open or close it. That situation is quite solvable as all I need to do is remove a couple of the boards and lop off a quarter inch or so. But that sounds an awful lot like work (and I’m supposed to be retired). However, since I work for a certain carpenter “of note,” I really shouldn’t put it off. If the wood has swollen, it’s my job to deal with it. I guess that wood [sic] make me a swell carpenter, eh?

I can see why heaven is described as a place with roads paved of gold, gates made of pearl, and walls made of jasper. God wanted a palace that’s swell – not a palace that would swell!

But that’s not the world we live in. We don’t have streets paved with gold; our streets come in a wide variety of gravel, dirt, asphalt, or cobblestones. They come with plenty of potholes, too. 

We don’t have walls made of jasper; our walls are mostly wood (on the outside) and drywall on the inside. We have a couple of walls in the house where the contractor apparently went to lunch and let it dry unfinished before he returned, so he left it as a monument to his meal. Fortunately, I simply don’t see those blemished walls anymore – a blessing that comes with old age and failing eyesight.

The walls are all functional, of course. Even if the plaster job was done by a plastered mud-guy, it holds paint and hides the wall studs, electrical and plumbing lines, so why should I complain (aside from being a crybaby every now and then)? Life is good.

I’d rather deal with gravelly textured walls than walls of hate. I’d rather drive down roads with an occasional pothole than to act like a pothole (or its metaphorical equivalent).

Edith Bunker (an old television character) once suggested that life on earth is possibly rotten so that when we get to heaven we’ll notice the improvement. That was good for a laugh, but could also be cause for tears. I really don’t think God intends for us to die before we can finally experience peace and happiness.

We are all going to die, of course. That’s part of the circle of life. Until then, though, we have a job to do. There is no retirement from taking care of one another, being just and merciful, and walking humbly, hand in hand with God and our neighbor. God gave us hearts of flesh with which to live and love, not of stone to be erected over our graves.

We need to overcome fear and anxiety by standing together, standing united. We need to stop looking for faults and start finding solutions. We need to stop fixing blame on those with nothing, or who come from other places, and expect better of all the misers who believe their gold has made them gods.

“Those to whom much has been given, much is expected,” said Jesus. God has faith in us; we need to remember that and act like it 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 18C -- The Cost of God's Mercy

 

Collect: Grant us, O Lord, to trust in you with all our hearts; for, as you always resist the proud who confide in their own strength, so you never forsake those who make their boast of your mercy; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

Lessons: Track 1: Jeremiah 18:1-11 – I (the Lord) am the potter; Psalm 139:1-5, 12-17 – You (O Lord) created my inmost parts

Track 2: Deuteronomy 30:15-20 – I set before you life & death; Psalm 1 – Blessed are those who delight in Torah

Epistle: Philemon 1-12 – I appeal to you on the basis of love

Gospel: Luke 14:25-33 – Parables of the Tower and Waging War: Count the cost!

Now large crowds were traveling with Jesus; and he turned and said to them, "Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple. Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple. For which of you, intending to build a tower, does not first sit down and estimate the cost, to see whether he has enough to complete it? Otherwise, when he has laid a foundation and is not able to finish, all who see it will begin to ridicule him, saying, `This fellow began to build and was not able to finish.' Or what king, going out to wage war against another king, will not sit down first and consider whether he is able with ten thousand to oppose the one who comes against him with twenty thousand? If he cannot, then, while the other is still far away, he sends a delegation and asks for the terms of peace. So therefore, none of you can become my disciple if you do not give up all your possessions."

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.

How many of you have read Judith Viorst’s book: Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day?

The story details a long list of misfortunes Alexander encounters, from finding gum in his hair when he wakes up, to tripping on a skateboard,  finding a cavity at the dentist’s office, getting criticized by his teacher, having lima beans to eat for dinner (which he hates). 

It’s the sort of day you and I could probably relate to – except for the lima beans, which I do like. Some days you just can’t win.

I wonder if Jesus was having one of those days when we got to the Gospel reading. I know he sometimes had trouble with his family. His mom and siblings were worried about him and tried to get him to come home (at one point in the gospels).

I think for the most part Jesus loved his family and respected them. The way Jesus talks about God as Abba (Father) says something about the relationship he had with his own father (Joseph).

I think when Jesus was dying up on the cross and committed his mother to John and John to his mother – even in the midst of that really terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day – Jesus had the presence of mind to set aside his own pain, his own grief, his own sorrow, and make sure his mother and beloved disciple were both taken care of. 

So I look at the Gospel and find myself somewhat perplexed and puzzled by about what Jesus says:

"Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple."

That word “hate” is a very strong word. It means to detest, and while some of us may have had bad family relationships, this seems pretty harsh.

It is tempting to say Jesus was exaggerating or using hyperbole to make a point, and certainly he is, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t stop and look at it for a minute. 

It’s tempting to gloss over it, because, I don’t know about you, but I don’t like to think of Jesus being harsh or mean. 

Jesus is all about love of God, love of neighbor, being kind, being gentle, open, welcoming, generous, and all of that. 

But if we yield to a temptation to gloss over what Jesus said, we may miss the importance of hearing what Jesus has to say – to us!

My Dad was a fairly soft-spoken man, but when he got his dander up, he would grow in stature; his 5 foot nine would become 6 foot twelve, his chest would expand in a way that would make King Kong jealous, and his roar would send Godzilla back into the ocean. 

Jesus is doing that here. It’s not that he’s having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. Perhaps He’s worried the people may be confusing his grace and mercy with weakness.

There’s an old story where Herod the Great is reputed to have said, “The Lord likes to forgive sin; I love to commit sin; ah, the world is admirably arranged.” We call that cheap grace, and maybe that is what Jesus is challenging us with, today.

You may recall last week we heard the parable of the great banquet and all the excuses people made for missing the wonderful meal. They had to test drive their oxen, or check out a piece of property that was coming up for sale, or get going on a belated honeymoon. So the rich man sent his slaves out to gather people from the fields and highways and by-ways. It was a “Y’all come,” invitation.

The irony of the story is that those who were invited would rather be dead than go to the party. Has that ever happened to you? You’ve got an invitation to a party and you just don’t want to go? It doesn’t matter why. 

Maybe you’re too tired. Maybe you’ve been to too many parties already. Maybe you heard your loud-mouth uncle with all his political views will be there, or your aunt with all her gossiping and nit-picking, or your nieces and nephews who run completely out of control and ruin everything because your in-laws can’t control them – or won’t.

You’d rather be dead than go, so you make up some lame excuse – after all, you don't want to be rude, so you develop a headache or tell them you’ve got to get up early tomorrow to write a sermon, or something.

Not that I’ve ever done those things, but I’ve heard others will sometimes do that.

So we make excuses. We shrug our shoulders because, frankly, it just isn’t important for us to be there. It isn’t important. We’re really not interested.

It’s to these folks Jesus says, “Now wait a minute, maybe it isn’t important to you, but don’t you see? It IS important to God. God isn’t satisfied with a house half full or (God forbid) empty. 

“The kingdom is like this,” says Jesus. 

“God has prepared a banquet for us – for you and for me and for our friends and neighbors and, when it comes right down to it, for all those strangers you find lost in the weeds. 

“God says, ‘Y’all come,’ and if there are those who don’t want to, that’s fine. Let them make light of the invitation. That’s not going to stop the meal. That’s not going to stop the party. God has Leviathan roasting on the spit, so let’s get a move on!”

That brings us to the Gospel today, where Jesus tells us we need to hate father, mother, and so on. When Jesus says something that sounds like fingernails on a chalkboard, we want to cover our ears like the lady on Jaws, but that’s really the time to put our hearing aids in and listen.

Jesus isn’t telling us to literally hate these people. We know that. 

Jesus is very clear that we are called to love God with all our heart, soul, strength, and mind; and our neighbor as ourselves. Jesus is real clear that “neighbor” includes those we’d rather be dead than let them touch us – no matter who that might be – even if they wear red hats, 49er shirts, or drive too slowly down Division.

The Gospels are full of stories detailing family love: Jairus who begs Jesus to come heal his daughter. The Syro-Phonecian woman who begs Jesus to come heal her daughter. The widow who mourns the death of her son. The man whose son suffers from epilepsy, who begs Jesus to do what the disciples could NOT do. 

What these family members all have in common was their willingness to die for the sake of their families.

“I don’t care if I’m a dog,” says the woman. I’m nothing; Help my daughter.”

“I don’t care if I am a ruler of the synagogue,” says Jairus. “I am nothing; Help my daughter.”

“This is what God is like,” says Jesus. “The feast has been prepared, and maybe there are those who would rather be dead than to show up. That’s fine. There is MORE than enough for everyone else. Forget those who would drag you down, including your family if it comes to that. You’ve got to be willing to let them go. Why? 

“Because God is building a tower. God has considered the cost. You may look and say, ‘Hey, there’s not enough,’ but God knows the cost. We’ll see that on Good Friday (if we keep reading).

“God is going to war with Satan and all the spiritual forces of wickedness. You may look and say, ‘Hey, you’re going to need more soldiers; you’re going to need a bigger boat,’ but God knows the cost. We’ll see that on Good Friday.”

Because, here’s the point. It’s not about us. It’s not about the sacrifices we make. God has rolled up her sleeve; she’s got the shrimp on the barbie and rolls in the oven. The dinner is ready. The calf has been slaughtered. The tower is already up. The war is already won. Our job, our task, our privilege is to suit up and to show up! We start by dying to self. That’s the point.

Right now we are in that interim period between rectors. It’s scary. People are running hither, thither, and yon to do what they can to keep things going. There are committees to form, services to organize, music to choose, newcomers to greet, bills to pay, linens to wash, and all that sort of stuff.

It can seem so overwhelming. There are those who want to slow down and catch their breath, and others who want to run off and get things over with yesterday. That’s who we are. That’s what we are. 

It can feel like everything is resting on our shoulders. It can feel like everyone is relying on us to “get ‘er done, Dude” whatever “it” is. But John Wayne’s not in charge here.  Jesus is. Jesus is the bishop and shepherd of our souls -- not the Duke, but Jesus!

Jesus knows the cost, because Jesus paid the price in full. Jesus knows the cost of everything and, what’s more important, Jesus knows the value of everyONE.

Let me say that again. Jesus knows the cost of everyTHING, and the value of everyONE. What we need to do is learn to “Let go and let God” (as they say in 12-step programs). 

That’s what Jesus means by us giving up our possessions. I mean, if you brought the titles to your cars, homes, and bank accounts to church today in anticipation of today’s lessons, I appreciate that (and I’m sure Maggie can handle those transactions for you, if you wish), but Jesus isn’t talking about that stuff. Jesus is talking about letting go of the things that hold us back from being the people God calls us to be, the people God knows we can be – for the banquet is ready.

As we’ll see next week, the sheep that was lost has been found. The coin that was lost has been found. All we need to do is go beat the bushes and tell the folks that not only is dinner ready, but God has paid for it all (tip included), and is looking forward to spending eternity with us – we, who were lost and are now found; we who were dead, and are now alive.

God has taken our terrible, horrible, no good, very bad lives and transformed them into Terrific, Wonderful, very good lives, indeed. And that's worth celebrating. Amen? Amen!

Sermon delivered by Keith Axberg to St. Paul’s Episcopal Church (Mount Vernon, WA) September 7, 2025

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