Tuesday of the 29th Week of Ordinary Time
That you were at that time separate from Christ, alienated from the commonwealth of Israel, and strangers from the covenants of the promise, having no hope and without God in the world. But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off are made near in the blood of Christ. For he is our peace, who made both one, and broke down the middle wall of separation, Having abolished in his flesh the hostility, the law of commandments contained in ordinances, that he might create in himself one new man of the two, making peace, And might reconcile them both in one body to God through the cross, having killed the hostility through it. He came and preached peace to you who were far off and to those who were near. For through him we both have our access in one Spirit to the Father. So then you are no longer strangers and foreigners, but you are fellow citizens with the saints and of the household of God, Being built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Christ Jesus himself being the chief cornerstone; In whom the whole building, fitted together, grows into a holy temple in the Lord; In whom you also are built together for a habitation of God in the Spirit.
Surely his salvation is near those who fear him, That glory may dwell in our land. Mercy and truth meet together. Righteousness and peace have kissed each other.
Truth springs out of the earth. Righteousness has looked down from heaven. Yes, the Lord will give that which is good. Our land will yield its increase.
Righteousness goes before him, And prepares the way for his steps.
"Let your waist be dressed and your lamps burning. Be like men watching for their lord when he returns from the wedding feast, that when he comes and knocks, they may immediately open to him. Blessed are those servants whom the lord will find watching when he comes. Most certainly I tell you that he will dress himself, make them recline, and will come and serve them. They will be blessed if he comes in the second or third watch and finds them so.
There's something quietly radical happening in Paul's letter to the Ephesians today. He's writing to people who were outsiders — not just socially, but cosmically. Strangers to the covenants, without hope, without God. And then he says: *but now*. Two words that carry the whole weight of the Gospel. But now, everything has changed.
The image Paul reaches for is architectural. Christ is the cornerstone — and in ancient construction, the cornerstone wasn't decorative. It was the stone that determined the alignment of every other stone in the building. Everything else was measured against it. What Paul is saying is that we don't build ourselves into holiness and then invite God in. We get fitted together *around* Christ, and that's what makes us a dwelling place for God.
Notice how this connects to what Jesus describes in Luke. The servants aren't building anything. They're waiting, lamps lit, belts fastened — ready to respond the moment the door is knocked. And here's what's genuinely surprising: the lord who returns doesn't demand to be served. He serves *them*. The one they've been waiting for becomes the one who feeds them.
This is the pattern of the whole Christian life. We stay awake — not through anxious striving, but through attentiveness. We keep the lamp burning in ordinary moments: in the middle of a hard conversation, at the end of a long workday, in the quiet before sleep. Watchfulness isn't dramatic. It's the slow, faithful practice of staying oriented toward the One who is always coming toward us.
Mercy and truth meet together. Righteousness and peace kiss. These aren't abstractions — they're descriptions of what happens when we stay present to God's movement in our lives.
So consider: Where have we gone numb to the "but now" moments in our own lives? What would it mean to keep the lamp lit, not just spiritually but practically, today? And when God knocks — in a person, in a need, in a moment of grace — are we positioned to open the door immediately?