“Let the faithful exult in glory; let them sing for joy upon their couches.”
That line from today’s psalm is quietly powerful. It reminds us that the glory of walking with God isn’t always found in mountaintop moments. Sometimes, it’s found in the soft places—on couches, in kitchens, in the quiet corners of daily life. The faithful shine not because they’re loud, but because they’re close to God.
Saint Paul, in his letter to the Thessalonians, speaks of a faith that’s alive. He praises their work of faith, labor of love, and endurance in hope. These aren’t just words—they’re the footprints of a people walking with God. They turned from idols, embraced the living God, and became witnesses of resurrection hope. Their journey wasn’t perfect, but it was real. And that’s what makes it glorious.
But Jesus also gives us a warning. In the Gospel, he speaks to the scribes and Pharisees—those who had all the religious appearances but none of the heart. They were so focused on gold and gifts, they forgot the temple and altar that made those things sacred. They locked the doors of heaven while pretending to hold the keys. It’s a sobering reminder: religion without love becomes hollow. A walk with God that’s all ritual and no relationship leads nowhere.
And then, into this contrast, comes a story from my own journey—a moment that taught me what walking with God really looks like.
My grandson Liam turned seven. He wanted a birthday cake with a theme that only a child could imagine: a catfish eating pizza and jumping into a roller skate. Yes, really. And thanks to the wonders of modern baking, he got it—a cake with a catfish mid-leap, chomping on pepperoni, diving into a skate.. It was strange. It was hilarious. It was glorious.
But the real glory wasn’t in the cake. It was in Liam’s heart.
His best friend is his step-sister Lillian. Her mom has been sick. And because of this Lillian was sad because she had not been able to spend much time with her mommy. So Liam asked, “Can we invite Lillian’s mommy to my party, so they can be happy together?”
That is love. That is faith. That is what it means to walk with God.
Liam didn’t just celebrate—he made his joy a gift. He saw someone hurting and chose compassion. At that moment, his birthday party became holy ground. No hypocrisy. No hollow religion. Just love that reflects the heart of God.
So today, as we reflect on these readings, let’s ask: What does our walk with God look like? Is it full of heart, or hollow with habit? Are we living faith that transforms, or clinging to rituals that distract?
Let your life be an altar. Let your actions be gifts. And let your journey with God be the kind that turns even a pizza eating, roller-skating catfish cake into sacred glory.
Lord God,
Make our hearts altars of love,
our words vessels of hope,
and our actions reflections of Your mercy.
Teach us to see You in the ordinary—
in the kindness of a child,
in the joy of a shared moment,
in the sacredness of every step we take with You.
May our journey be faithful,
our praise sincere,
and our lives a witness to Your grace.
Amen.
No comments:
Post a Comment