Luke 11:1-13 · Jesus’ Teaching on Prayer
Let Us Pray!
Luke 11:1-13
Sermon
by W. Robert McClelland
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In James Baldwin's Blues For Mister Charlie, there is an arresting scene in which a young boy announces before his grandmother and the world that he no longer believes in God. The wise and unperturbed woman replies, "Ain't no way you can't believe in God, boy. You just try holding your breath long enough to die."

No less than breathing or the sucking of a newborn infant, prayer is instinctive human behavior. The disciples' plea, "Lord, teach us to pray," arises from a primal urge deep within the human psyche. During World War II it was a cliche that there were no atheists in foxholes. Deep calls to deep. Spirit seeks spirit. Speaking autobiographically, Augustine observed, "Our souls are restless until they find their rest in thee, O God." A contemporary commentator put it simply, "There is a God-shaped space in each of us that seeks its own filling."

Nevertheless, for many of us, practicing prayer is like traveling to a foreign country. We go there occasionally, but we go as tourists. And like most tourists we feel uncomfortable and out of place. So we move on before too long and go elsewhere.

Of course, most of us would agree that prayer is a proven technique for bringing peace of mind in time of trouble. No doubt some of us could cite wonders accomplished by the power of prayer. I know of one little boy, near and dear to my heart, who had such faith in the efficacy of divine intervention that he prayed, "Lord, make me a good boy; and if at first you don't succeed, try, try, again."

But Jesus does not present prayer as a hot line to God, used only in cases of emergency. He does not require that we bow our heads, close our eyes, or fold our hands. He does not even demand that we end our prayers with the liturgical phrase, "In Jesus' name. Amen." There may be nothing wrong with these prayer practices if they do not inhibit our coming to God comfortably; but they are not required by Jesus. What he does say, is that we are to come before the throne of grace boldly.

Most of us, I suppose, have been taught that we ought to approach God humbly, with heads bowed and on bended knee. We learned that when we bring our requests to the throne of grace we are to add, "If it be your will," so as not to crowd God. After all, we don't want to appear arrogant, and we certainly do not want to offend the Almighty. It would be like biting the hand that feeds us. We come into God's presence as guests, therefore. We view prayer as a privilege, and we do not want to abuse it or take it lightly. So we come with hat in hand. We call it "humility."

Recently I was called to the hospital where a parishioner was terminally ill. The patient was a young widow; mother of two small children. After offering prayer for her recovery and a reunion with her family, I added the pious phrase, typically used in prayers of petition, "... If it be your will." Later, I reflected on my visit, and particularly those words in my prayer. "Of course God's will for her is wholeness and health," I thought to myself. "God is the creator of life and wills joy and health for all of us. And clearly those children need their mother."

Suddenly, I realized my words - if it be God's will - were not proper theological protocol so much as fear that God could not heal the woman. They offered God an escape clause.

Certainly, there is a time and place for turning things over to God's superior wisdom - "... nevertheless, not as I will, but as you will" - but the words do not appear in the model of prayer Jesus gave his disciples. We add them as a mark of our humility, but I suspect more often than not, "If it be your will ..." are weasel words born of a failure of nerve rather than humility. The pious phrase gives God an out. It takes the Almighty off the hook as if the Lion of Judah needed rescuing by us. Rather than exhibiting humility it reveals the height of arrogance. We are trying to make God look good!

Our traditional understandings of prayer are curious at best, and misleading at worst, when we contrast them with some of the biblical models. A case in point is that robust conversation in the Old Testament between Abraham and God over the fate of Sodom, sister sin city of Gomorrah. He comes to God and haggles with the Almighty. No hint of shyness on his part. No false piety. Abraham says to God, "You don't mean to tell me, Lord, you're going to destroy a whole city just because a few of the folks have upset you. Suppose I find 50 who can pass the fitness test?" The Lord thinks it over, and decides he can live with the compromise. But Abraham, always the bargainer, sees that he has his foot in the door and warms to the challenge. He says, "Would you settle for 40? How about 30? Would you believe 10?"

Now, I do not for a minute want to suggest that prayer is a sure-fire technique for getting the things we desire. Indeed, one of the things that infuriates me most about radio and television faith healers is that they seem to imply if we would just pray more frequently, or more sincerely, or send them a bigger check, results would be guaranteed. No! God is not a cosmic bellhop who jumps because we ring the bell. Yet, clearly the story of Abraham dickering with God suggests that the options are open. The terms of life are negotiable, and it is possible that God's mind may be changed by virtue of our praying.

That may not sound like a traditional understanding of God, but textbook theology is not the issue here; relationship with the Divine is!

So back to the Lord's prayer! Jesus begins with the amazingly bold words, "Our Father..." As John Knox lay on his death-bed he began to pray the Lord's prayer. He didn't get very far, however. In fact he didn't get beyond these first two words, "Our Father ..." Startled, he opened his eyes and looked at those standing beside his bed. "How can anyone pray those words?" he wondered.

It's a good question. How dare we assume so intimate a relationship with God Almighty? Only because Jesus teaches us to pray that way! In teaching us to pray, Jesus wants us to view prayer as a family affair. We are to come to God with the same confidence that we would approach a loving parent, certain that we are welcome and our desires are of genuine concern to God.

The way some of us approach God would lead objective observers to think we were approaching a tyrant who could take our head off. We come fawning on bended knee, hands folded and with eyes downcast. Today we would consider any parent who wanted us to crawl on our knees when we spoke to be abusive. Surely, God is at least as approachable as a loving, earthly parent.

The Bible gives us permission to call God, "Daddy!" The apostle Paul addressed God as "Abba! Father!" in Romans 8:15. "Abba," is the Aramaic word translated in the Greek as "pater" or "father," but in Aramaic, as "Daddy." It is the familiar, very personal term for father. Jesus invites us to come very intimately to God in prayer. We do not come in awe. We are not in the presence of a high potentate. This is a family matter. "When you pray say, 'Father!' " Not, "Our Father." And not, "Our Father who art in heaven," which is how Matthew recounts the Lord's Prayer. But Matthew is almost certainly reiterating a liturgical prayer of the early church in his gospel. Luke's version is probably the more accurate. "When you pray, say, 'Father!' " As such, it is an attention getter. "Father, are you listening? I have some things I want to say."

One of the amazing things in the model of prayer given to us by Jesus is that he teaches us to pray in the imperative mood! Sometimes we have trouble actually believing that Jesus teaches us to put demands before God rather than polite requests. But there they are in the Bible. Jesus offers a series of staccato, imperative commands; and says this is the way to pray! "Hallowed be Thy name! Thy Kingdom, come! Give us each our daily bread! Forgive us our sins! Lead us not into temptation!" We are to know what we want and to lay our requests before God with courage and conviction.

What is so surprising is that Jesus does not teach us to pray humbly. These are demands laid before the throne of Grace. Not, "if it be your will." Not, "pretty please, give us our daily bread." It is not a request. It is an imperative. "God! Give us bread!" The prayer is simply, just "Do it!"

Suddenly the defenders of the faith are right there taking a stance as if protecting the honor of God. With great indignation and self-righteousness they will protest, "Hold it, Rev! Hold it right there! That sounds a little pushy, don't you think? The way I was taught to pray required some humility. You didn't want to push God. You had no right to be there in the first place so you came on quietly and with a little flattery, like how great and good God is. You buttered up the divine Ego before asking any favors."

A minister friend of mine was in the habit of telling his little girl a bedtime story each evening before tucking her in for the night. One evening he told her such a thrilling tale her eyes popped open. She sat up in bed studying her father. "Daddy, do you mean it, or are you just preaching?" Sometimes it is hard to know with preachers. Sometimes it is even hard to know with Jesus.

But such boldness is again affirmed in the parable Jesus tells immediately following his instructions in prayer. A man awakens his friend at midnight with a request for food and is rebuffed. The man continues to bang on the door allowing his friend no sleep until he responds to his request. The friend responds for no other reason than to get rid of the nuisance at his door. Jesus concludes, "Ask, and it will be given you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you." It must have raised the eyebrows of his pious listeners because the clear point of the story seems to be that bold persistence pays off in matters of prayer.

Jesus' story of the prodigal son (Luke 15:11-32) amplifies the same point. The younger brother came to the father and demanded his share of the family inheritance. The father gave it to him without any argument, and off the lad went to seek his fortune. The loyal elder brother, on the other hand, stayed home and dutifully worked on the family farm. Understandably, when his younger brother returned home, having squandered half of the family's fortune, he complained about the welcome home celebration. "Father, you never gave me a feast. You never put a ring on my finger. You never threw a robe around my shoulders." But the father replies, "Son, all that I have is yours." The tragedy implied is that the elder brother never asked for anything from his father. He never availed himself of the "all that is mine is yours." He lived like a hired servant rather than a family member. He suffered a failure of nerve and as a result of neglected prayer he missed out on the big party.

In the things of prayer it appears to be, as it is with the things of life, that the world stands aside for those who have a plan. Prayer is a privilege, yes. But the way Jesus presents it, it is a privilege for the robust who come into the presence of God and approach the throne of grace with confidence, knowing what they want of Divine providence.

My daughter is a student in California. She keeps in close touch with the family. Not by writing letters, of course. She always calls long distance. Collect! She usually begins her conversations on the phone with, "Hey Dad, guess what!" The liturgy calls for the response, "What?" And then she will disclose the latest episode in her marvelous life adventure. She called the other evening. "Hey, Dad, guess what!" "What?" I said dutifully. "Over spring break all the kids are going to Hawaii. I'd like to go too. Can I? And will you spring for the air fare?" That was simple. I said, "No!" and we went on to other topics of conversation.

But what a model for prayer. She knew what she wanted. I heard very clearly her request. And I was able to say "No," just as clearly. How different the conversation might have been if she had said, "Dear Father, are you listening? I have a few things that I would like to talk over with you if you have the time. I know how much you have on your mind with all that you have to do and I really don't mean to intrude. But I know you have my best interests at heart and want me to get as broad an education as possible."

"For heaven's sake, get to the point!"

No wonder the Holy One dozes off during so many of our prayers. God is bored! Talking with my daughter is interesting conversation. She doesn't always get her way, but she is always a delight and her excitement and zest for life is contagious. Jesus wants us to be specific in our requests. In effect he says, "Know what you want and go for it."

God, of course, is always free to say, "No!" just as I did with my daughter's request to vacation in Hawaii. Prayer is not like rubbing a magic bottle to make the genie appear. God is not a bellhop who runs our errands or grants our every wish. But it is clear that the issues of life are open to discussion.

Look again at how the writers of the Old Testament tell the story of the Exodus and the events leading up to it (Exodus chapters 3 and 4). It is pivotal in the Pentateuch. Incredibly, Israel's faith was built on a story which featured God negotiating the terms of Moses' job description. We can forgive Moses his lack of enthusiasm for God's proposition as he makes first one excuse and then another since it puts him at great risk with the powers that be. Moses does not seem to be afflicted with a martyr complex. Therefore, God has to bargain collectively with Moses; certainly not a requirement for an omnipotent Sovereign who could dictate terms and demand unconditional surrender. To say that God limits his or her divine power is to beg the question and miss the point: God chooses to be our prayer Partner not as One characterized by omnipotence, but intimacy. We can only wonder what would have been the outcome if Moses had decided against being a servant of the Lord?

Clearly, Jesus does not present prayer as a relationship that has God on the end of a string like a marionette. But neither do the biblical models of prayer portray our prayer Partner as a puppeteer pulling our strings to make us dance, offering only the appearance of free choice. Scripture seems to suggest that life is an experience somewhat similar to that of playing chess with a Grand Master. The Master opens. We make our move. Again it is the Grand Master's turn. After some thought he makes his move ... but only after we have made ours. Indeed, the game plan of the Grand Master is dependent upon our moves and can only be determined in response to them. There is, of course, no way we can defeat a Grand Master of chess. He is far too experienced for us. But how he wins cannot be known in advance because his moves cannot be predetermined. That is what keeps the game interesting; both for us and for the Grand Master.

This is why it makes sense to say, "Let us pray...."

C.S.S Publishing Co., FIRE IN THE HOLE, by W. Robert McClelland