Who Is the King of Glory?

Daily Office Readings: Psalm 24 • Wisdom 7:22–8:1 • 2 Thessalonians 2:13–17 • Matthew 7:7–14

Fifty-seven years ago today, I stood before God believing I had found the companion who would walk beside me for the rest of my life. Like many young people standing at the altar, I imagined love would be enough to carry us through every season. Yet life unfolded differently than I expected. The marriage ended in divorce, and over the years I have often reflected on the roads I have traveled since that day.

There were seasons when I wandered onto the wide road Jesus described—the road of pride, fear, self-protection, misplaced desires, and choices rooted more in loneliness than wisdom. There were times I searched for fulfillment in places that could never truly satisfy the soul. Looking back honestly is not an exercise in shame; it is an act of truth-telling before God.

But today I come again as a pilgrim.

I come asking for wisdom.

I come seeking truth.

I come knocking at the door of grace.

And I come longing to be sanctified by the Spirit of the King of Glory.

Psalm 24 asks the great question:

“Who is the King of glory?”

The answer echoes through the centuries:

“The Lord, strong and mighty… the Lord of hosts, he is the King of glory.”

The King of Glory is not merely a ruler seated far away in heaven. The readings today reveal something deeper. In the Book of Wisdom, we are told that Wisdom is:

“a breath of the power of God,
a pure emanation of the glory of the Almighty…
a reflection of eternal light,
a spotless mirror of the working of God,
and an image of his goodness.”

What beautiful language.

Wisdom is not simply intelligence or accumulated knowledge. Wisdom is the very breath of God moving through creation and through the human soul. Wisdom reflects eternal light into darkened hearts. Wisdom mirrors the goodness of God into lives that have often forgotten who they are.

The older I become, the more I realize that wisdom is not found merely in success, religious certainty, or outward appearances. Wisdom grows through sorrow, failure, repentance, humility, and grace. Sometimes the painful roads become the very places where wisdom begins to speak most clearly.

Paul writes in 2 Thessalonians that we are being saved:

“through sanctification by the Spirit and through belief in the truth.”

Sanctification is a word many people misunderstand. It does not mean becoming perfect, superior, or spiritually arrogant. Sanctification is the slow, lifelong work of God shaping the human heart into love. It is the Spirit gently burning away illusion, fear, bitterness, and falsehood so that the image of God may shine more clearly within us.

Sanctification happens when truth replaces self-deception.

It happens when mercy becomes greater than resentment.

It happens when compassion becomes stronger than judgment.

It happens when we stop pretending and finally allow grace to touch the wounded places within us.

This is why Jesus tells us:

“Ask, and it will be given you; seek, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you.”

The spiritual life begins with desire.

God does not force wisdom upon us. We must ask.

We must seek.

We must knock.

Many people want certainty, but few are willing to undertake the inward journey truth requires. The narrow gate Jesus speaks of is narrow because it requires honesty, humility, forgiveness, and love. The wide road is easier because it allows us to drift with the crowd, avoid self-examination, and blame others for our emptiness.

The narrow way calls us to transformation.

And at the center of that transformation stands the Golden Rule:

“In everything do to others as you would have them do to you.”

Jesus reduces religion to its purest expression: love expressed through action.

The Golden Rule is more than morality; it is the practical shape of divine wisdom lived out in everyday life. It calls us to see ourselves in others. It asks us to treat people not as obstacles, enemies, or categories, but as sacred beings carrying wounds, hopes, fears, and longings just like our own.

Imagine how different our world would be if humanity truly lived by this teaching.

Wars would lose their glory.

Cruelty would lose its justification.

Religion would lose its arrogance.

Politics would lose its hatred.

And human hearts would begin reflecting the goodness of God once again.

Today, fifty-seven years after that wedding day, I no longer come before God pretending I understand everything about life, love, or relationships. I come instead as a curious pilgrim who has known joy and heartbreak, faith and failure, wandering and grace.

And still the King of Glory invites me forward.

Still Wisdom whispers.

Still the Spirit sanctifies.

Still the narrow gate stands open.

Still grace calls us to ask, seek, and knock.

Perhaps that is the great hope of the Gospel: no matter how far we have wandered down the wide road, the Spirit of God continues calling us home to truth, wisdom, compassion, and love.

And maybe that journey home is where true glory is finally found.