Luke 11:1-13 · Jesus’ Teaching on Prayer
An Uncomfortable Comforter
Luke 11:1-13
Sermon
by Leonard Sweet
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One of my favorite chairs in our admittedly strange and eclectic collection of antique furniture is a piece known as "The Bishop's Chair." If anyone ever needed a reason NOT to seek that high office, this chair offers some revealing insight into the episcopacy. [If your church has a bishop's chair, or can find a bishop's chair, or an antique chair that fits the description, you might ask some people to come forward, sit in it, and describe how it feels.]

Yes, it is a handsome chair-grandly oversized to stand higher, wider, sturdier, and straighter than any ordinary chair. The back soars up, toweringly tall and heavily carved with intricate designs. Anyone under 5'2" or thereabouts will find themselves swinging their feet above the floor when they perch on this raised throne. But the back and the seat are at rigid right angles to each other. The glorious carvings on the seat and the back bite into your legs and poke all the way down your spine.

The Bishop's Chair is a beautiful, powerful, imposing piece of furniture. But mostly it is miserably uncomfortable. As a statement it succeeds beautifully. As a chair it fails utterly.

Most of medieval furniture follows that same basic guideline. Its function was to provide a statement, not a comfortable seat. Here is a picture of Albrecht Durer's classic etching of St. Jerome in his Study (1514).

How comfortable does he look?

Ask St. Jerome how comfortable he felt in that chair.

He couldn't understand the concept. He wouldn't know how to answer you. The word comfortable did not originally refer to enjoyment or contentment. Its Latin root was ‘confortare’--to strengthen or console--and this remained its meaning for centuries. We use it this way when we say "He was a comfort to his mother in her old age." (Witold Rybczynski, Home: A Short History of an Idea (New York: Penguin Books, 1986), 20.)

In fact, our modern concept of comfort was unknown throughout the Low and High Middle Ages. Comfort was not a concept of cushiness or luxurious lounging. Instead, comfort was a verb. To be a comforter was not to be an overstuffed down blanket. It was to be an active advocate for another, offering aid and succor as it was needed. Comfort was not rest and repose. Comfort was response and reaction.

Listen to a historian explain how we got our meaning of the word comfort today as we traveled from the medieval world to the modern world.

"Along the way, 'comfort' also acquired a legal meaning: in the sixteenth century a comforter was someone who aided or abetted a crime. This idea of support was eventually broadened to include people had things that afforded a measure of satisfaction, and 'comfortable' came to mean tolerable or sufficient--one spoke of a bed of comfortable width, although not yet of a comfortable bed. This continues to be the meaning of the expression 'a comfortable income'-ample but not luxurious. Succeeding generations expanded this idea of convenience, and eventually comfortable acquired its sense of physical well-being and enjoyment, but not until the eighteenth century, long after Durer's death, Sir Walter Scott was one of the first novelists to use it this new way when he wrote, 'Let it freeze without, we are comfortable within.' Later meanings of the word were almost exclusively concerned with contentment, often of a thermal variety: 'comforter' in secular Victorian England no longer referred to the Redeemer, but to a long woolen scarf; today it describes a quilted bed coverlet." (Witold Rybczynski, Home: A Short History of an Idea [New York: Penguin Books, 1986], 20.)

[If you can find a comforter, be sure to bring it and use it as part of your sermon.]

Our 21st century understanding of calmer" and comforter have hopelessly muddled the biblical understanding of offering comfort. Comfort is a big selling point in our consumerist culture. No one wants to be uncomfortable--whether its while jammed into a center seat on the coach section of a 727 or while trapped in your car in some massive, hours-long traffic jam. We happily pay extra for comfort--more leg room, in-flight movies, and better meals to take our minds off our in-flight discomforts; lavish leather seats, surround-sound stereo systems and perfect climate-control for our private commute-mobile. We want to be surrounded in comfort: we sit down to comfort food (mashed potatoes), we wallpaper our lives in comfort noise (Muzak and ambient sound), etc.

In scientific circles the word comfort means the absence of discomfort. "When the interior of the Space Shuttle was being designed, a cardboard mockup for the cabin was built. The astronauts were required to move around in this full-size model, miming their daily activities, and every time they knocked against a corner or a projection, a technician would cut away the offending piece. At the end of the process, when there were no more obstructions left, the cabin was judged to be comfortable. The scientific definition of comfort would be something like "Comfort is that condition in which discomfort has been avoided." (Witold Rybczynski, Home: A Short History of an Idea [New York: Penguin Books, 1986], 226.)

But we have taken the negative definition of comfort (the absence of discomfort) and super-sized it in a positive direction. Hotels, spas, vacation cruises that promise to pamper and spoil now are our idea of true comfort. Too much to eat, too much to drink, too much to see, too much to do, too much of all good things--that is our comfort ideal.

In today's gospel text, Jesus refuses to accommodate our 21st century Comfort Inn sensibilities. Jesus' disciples ask him to teach them an identifying prayer--a prayer that will uniquely distinguish them as his disciples. The identifying title Jesus provides them with is that of sons and daughters of the divine Father. This genealogy, however, entitles them in their prayers to ask, search, knock with the firm conviction that they will receive, find, and have the door opened every time.

But just as Jesus' 1st century disciples and more recently 21st century disciples might be persuaded to think that God the Father is some kind of wish-piggy-bank to be emptied, Jesus gets surprisingly specific. Going to the Father in prayer assures all the faithful that God will provide for all their needs--and these needs are met by the gift of the Holy Spirit (verse 13). The Holy Spirit offers everything we need to lead fulfilled, fruitful, ever overflowing lives. Going to the Father in prayer isn't about offering a lengthy litany of wants-a place to go shopping for things that will make our lives more comfortable.

But we can go confidently to the Father in prayer with the unswerving conviction that God will provide for all our needs by giving us the constant presence of an Uncomfortable Comforter--the Holy Spirit. It is when we are uncomfortably comforted that we become empowered to do what we need to do to fulfill the mission God has given each one of us. I read recently about the Uncomfortable Comforter at work in Mainland, China in 1995. It's the story of a Christian named Xu Yonghai writing with soap as told by dc talk and The Voice of the Martyrs.

"XU Yonghai looked around his 8-by-8-foot cell. A trained medical doctor, Yonghai was used to sanitized conditions, so what he saw was especially disgusting. There was no bathroom. Instead, there was a pipe in one corner form which water flowed continuously onto the concrete. Yonghai learned to use the water to wash human waste from his cell. He ate right there as well--guards slid his food under the door. He drank and washed himself with water from the pipe.

For 2 entire years, he never once left this tiny, filthy room!

Yonghai, a Christian in Communist China, had worked with Gao Feng to get a house church legalized. For this crime, he was locked up in a Beijing prison for 24 months. Yonghai spent much of this time in prayer, meditation, and writing. On the walls of his cell, Yonghai scrawled the major points for a gook, God the Creator. He wrote with soap, his deep-thinking, intellectual mind tying the points of his thesis together. When the writing was finished, he spent time memorizing the words. After his release in May 1997, he put his cell-wall composition on paper. The result was a 50,000 word book!

"My cell was the last stop for prisoners sentenced to die,"Yonghai said. "At times there were as many as three other prisoners in the tiny, damp room, awaiting their date with the executioner."

What a chance to witness! What an opportunity to introduce these men into God's kingdom! Yonghai took advantage of it, sharing the Gospel with his temporary cell mates in their final days on earth. He reports, 'These men were very open to the message of Christ.'" (Jesus Freaks--Stories of Those Who Stood for Jesus: The Ultimate Jesus Freaks by dc Talk and The Voice of the Martyrs [Tulsa, Oklahoma: Albury Publishing, 2000], 19-20.)

This is what it means to "Comfort, O comfort my people, says your God" (Isaiah 40:1).

This is what it means when the psalmist says "Your rod and your staff, they comfort me" (Psalm 23:4)

This is what Job meant when he said "This would be my comfort; I would exalt even in unrelenting pain" (Job 6:10).

Do you know this Uncomfortable Comforter? Or are you still searching for that comfortable comforter?

We could learn something from seven year old Katherine in Mrs. Steadman's 1st grade class in Memphis, TN. In class one day Mrs. Steadman asked her first graders to write about a place they would like to visit and what they would do there.

Sydney and Katherine were best friends from the time they were born, about a week apart. Sydney died in April 2000 of an inoperable brain tumor. This is what Katherine wrote. She titled it "When I Visit Heven." When all her peers wanted to visit Disney World and Hawaii and Washington, D.C., Katherine wanted to visit "Heven."

[If you can put this on the screen so that people can read her original spellings, it would be great; even better have a first grader copy her essay so that they could see original first-grader handwriting with first-grader spellings.]

"I would like to visit heven. It is a wonderful place. I want to go there because Sidney is there and because Jesus lives there. I asked Jesus into my heart so I will go to heven. I will live an eturenle life with Him. I will get to be with Sidney and play with her. I will get to meet all the angels and meet my grandma Braseo and see my great grandpa Porter, my great grandma's husbund and my Papa Porter's Daddy. I am going to see streets of gold and seas of kristles too. I want to be an important angel. I want to give Jesus a big bear hug. I want to ride buitiful ponys along the streets of gold. I would like to ride a big big ship across the kristle seas and invite Sidney to come with me. I'd like to play ring-around the rose with the angles. I would like to milk the cows. I would like to meet Daniel. I would like to feed some lambs."

There's the testimony of someone, aged 7, who has firsthand experience of The Uncomfortable Comforter.

Do you? Will you be a comforting force this week for God and the gospel in the biblical understanding of that word comforter?

ChristianGlobe Networks, Collected Sermons, by Leonard Sweet