There’s a quiet power in today’s readings—a thread of divine persistence, of holy instruction, of covenant not carved in stone but written on the heart. These texts speak to a people longing for renewal, for justice, for a Word that doesn’t fade with time or crumble under pressure. And they speak to us, too—those of us who are tired, who are searching, who are trying to hold fast to faith in a world that often feels faithless.

Let’s begin with Jeremiah. The prophet speaks to a people in exile, a people who have known destruction and despair. And yet, he offers a vision of restoration: “The days are surely coming,” says the Lord, “when I will make a new covenant… I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts” (Jer 31:31,33).

This is not a covenant of fear—it’s a covenant of intimacy. Not imposed from above, but inscribed within. God is not giving up on His people. He’s drawing closer. He’s planting hope in the soil of their sorrow.

And isn’t that what we long for? Not just rules to follow, but a relationship that transforms. Not just commandments on tablets, but truth that lives in us, shapes us, guides us.

Psalm 119 echoes this longing: “Oh, how I love your law! It is my meditation all day long” (Ps 119:97). This is not legalism—it’s delight. The psalmist finds wisdom, sweetness, and strength in God’s Word. “Through your precepts I get understanding… How sweet are your words to my taste, sweeter than honey to my mouth!” (vv.104,103).

This is the kind of love that grows over time. The kind of love that sustains us when everything else feels uncertain. The kind of love that teaches us to walk wisely, to live humbly, to trust deeply.

And that brings us to Paul’s words to Timothy. Paul is nearing the end of his life. He’s writing from prison, urging Timothy to hold fast: “Continue in what you have learned and firmly believed… All scripture is inspired by God and is useful for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness” (2 Tim 3:14,16).

Paul knows the road ahead will be hard. He knows there will be distractions, distortions, discouragements. But he also knows the power of the Word—the power to equip, to strengthen, to sustain.

“Proclaim the message,” he says. “Be persistent whether the time is favorable or unfavorable… carry out your ministry fully” (2 Tim 4:2,5). This is not a call to perfection—it’s a call to perseverance. A call to keep showing up, keep speaking truth, keep living love.

And then we come to Jesus. In Luke 18, He tells a parable about a widow who keeps coming to a judge, pleading for justice. The judge is described as one “who neither feared God nor had respect for people” (v.2)—a man unmoved by conscience or compassion. And yet, because of her persistence, he relents. “I will grant her justice,” he says, “so that she may not wear me out by continually coming” (v.5).

Jesus tells this parable to encourage His disciples “to pray always and not to lose heart” (v.1). But this is not just a lesson in prayer—it’s a lesson in justice. The widow is not asking for comfort. She’s asking for what is right. And she’s asking it from someone who has no interest in giving it.

This parable speaks powerfully to our world today. We live in a time when many cry out for justice—racial justice, economic justice, environmental justice, justice for migrants, for the poor, for the marginalized. And too often, the systems meant to uphold justice resemble the judge in the parable: indifferent, slow-moving, resistant to change.

But Jesus doesn’t tell the disciples to wait passively. He lifts up the widow—a woman with no social power, no legal standing, no advocate—and says: Look at her. Look at her persistence. Look at her refusal to be silenced. She is a model of faith not because she is meek, but because she is relentless.

In contemporary society, we see this same spirit in those who march, who organize, who speak truth to power. We see it in teachers advocating for their students, in healthcare workers fighting for equity, in communities resisting violence and exclusion. We see it in churches that refuse to turn away from hard conversations, and in congregations that commit to being places of refuge and repair.

Jesus asks, “Will not God grant justice to His chosen ones who cry to Him day and night?” (v.7). And then He asks, “When the Son of Man comes, will He find faith on earth?” (v.8). It’s a haunting question. But it’s also a hopeful one. Because faith, in this parable, is not just belief—it’s action. It’s the widow who keeps showing up. It’s the disciple who keeps praying. It’s persistence. It’s the believer who keeps trusting, even when the answers are slow, even when the world is weary. It’s the refusal to give up on justice, even when the odds are stacked against us.

Today’s readings tell us God is not distant. God’s covenant is being written on our hearts.

Today’s readings tell us that scripture is not just ancient—it’s alive. It teaches, corrects, comforts, and equips.

They tell us that faith is not about having all the answers—it’s about showing up, again and again, with hope.

And they say: Justice is coming. Renewal is coming. The days are surely coming.

So let us be people of the Word—people who meditate, who proclaim, who persist. Let us be people of the heart—people who receive the covenant not as burden, but as blessing. And let us be people of faith—faith that endures, faith that prays, faith that acts.

For the Word of God is living and active. And it is being written—still—on the hearts of those who dare to believe. Amen.