Joe takes Nelly’s hand, weathered with time and grace. He reads softly from Psalm 89:36, his voice steady, full of meaning:
“His dynasty will last forever,
his throne will endure before me like the sun.”
He looks into her eyes, then closes the Bible and speaks from his heart.
Joe:
That’s not the dynasty of Rothschild, not the empire of gold coins and compound interest.
Not the fame of David Hasselhoff singing on the Berlin Wall in flashing lights.
God bless him—he helped tear down a wall.
But this verse isn’t about that kind of stage.
This is the quiet dynasty.
The hidden one.
The one built from faithfulness,
from the hand you gave me back in 1989
at that Tiananmen Square dance.
You made me strong.
Not like a soldier,
but like a king who serves—
whose throne is carved from patience,
and whose crown is made of long-suffering love.
Joe smiles, gently.
Joe:
We may not sit on any throne the world can see.
But our dynasty will last forever—
because it’s written in heaven.
Like the sun,
like the moon,
like you and me.
