Jesus spends a night in prayer, chooses twelve, and then preaches on a level place a message that turns the world's ledgers upside down: love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, give without expecting return.

Then the promise with the overflowing measure: give, and it will be given to you, pressed down, shaken together, running over. Read today with your hands open in both directions.

The level-place sermon and Psalm 67 share one economy: blessing is meant to move. God's face shines on us so that His ways are known on earth; the measure is poured into your lap so it can keep pouring. Even Moses's geography lesson fits, God had already given lands to Edom and Moab; His generosity was never a single-nation program.

The standard Jesus sets is His Father's: kind to the ungrateful and wicked. That frees your giving from scorekeeping, no more lending only where returns are likely, loving only where it is reciprocated. Give like weather, like sunlight, like the Most High. The overflowing measure follows the open hand.