This morning’s sermon by my rector, Fr. Daniel, centered on one of Jesus’ most moving parables—the story of the persistent widow who refuses to give up until justice is done. He connected that story to the prophet Jeremiah’s promise that “the days are surely coming” and to the epistle’s call to “carry out your ministry fully.” Each of these passages was spoken into darkness: exile, persecution, and fear. Fr. Daniel reminded us that faith endures not because life is easy but because God is faithful. The heart of his message was simple and yet demanding: pray always, persist in doing what is right, and do not lose heart. The sermon invited me to remember that perseverance itself is an act of hope.
As I listened, I thought about my own seasons of trial. When my mother died and when I faced other personal struggles, I felt as if life had collapsed into shadow. I prayed, but it often felt like shouting into silence. Still, I kept praying—sometimes quietly, sometimes through tears—because something deep within me refused to surrender to despair. Over time, prayer became less about words and more about presence. I began to sense that God was already holding me, even when I could not hold on myself.
That slow persistence changed me. Faith did not erase grief, but it restored my ability to see goodness again. It taught me to trust that love can survive loss and that light can return even after the longest night. When I heard Fr. Daniel say, “Do not lose heart,” it felt like hearing God speak through him, reminding me that every prayer whispered in darkness is still heard. The days are surely coming, and hope will rise again.
Under the Fig Tree 