Teach us to pray, Jesus.
You seem to do it so well; God really seems to listen to you.
Teach us to pray, Jesus.
There are things we are
carrying and don’t know how to put down.
There are things we are
longing for that we can’t seem to find.
There are things that are
broken that we wish we could fix.
There’s so much we need, and
we feel kind of alone or afraid.
We want so badly to be able
to escape the pain, or solve the problem.
Teach us to pray.
John taught his disciples; they’ve
got their strategy down.
They’re going onto the field
prepared.
We want to feel that way.
Effective instead of
helpless.
Prepared and ready with a
solution whatever may arise,
instead of confused, lost or
wondering what to do.
If only we had some way to
repair things, some way to feel secure.
If only we had an in with the Divine.
Lord, teach us to pray.
But Jesus gives them no
formula or a method, not a foolproof strategy to get God to listen or make the
things happen that you believe should happen.
Instead, he invites them into his relationship with
God.
When the disciples ask Jesus
to teach them how to pray, he shows them prayer.
When you pray, he says, say 'Daddy, Mommy, one who knows and loves me most and whom I trust, hear me now.' And then he says simple words about
having what we need for each day and keeping us safe and making peace between
us and the longing for things to be as God promises they will be.
And then Jesus gives them a
parable.
Say one of you has a
friend and you go to him at midnight and demand bread, because a guest has
arrived and you have nothing to set before him. You race outside in your slippers and pound on your
neighbor’s door, hair askew and pajamas in public; you impose yourself upon
your sleeping neighbor and ask for what you need.
I tell
you, even though he will not get up and give you anything because you’re his
friend, at least because of your persistence he will get up and give you
whatever you need.
The Greek word translated here
as “persistence” actually means something like, “shamlessness”. Brazen blurting. Raw request. Freedom to
say ANYTHING, no holds barred. The
friend doesn’t respond to your appeal because you ask over and over again,
lightly knocking and phrasing it correctly, or politely persistently pestering
them with your practiced whining until exasperated, they finally relent.
You ask, blatantly and
honestly, in boldness and full confidence that the one behind the door will
respond to you. Not because you
asked so well, or so many times, but because they are trustworthy and you’ve
been audacious with them. You
stand there with your need or your desire or your hope, knowing you can ask for
anything, and not afraid or hesitant in the least to do so. And so your friend responds.
Ask and it shall be given, seek and you will find,
knock and the door will be opened.
What about all the times we
ask and it isn’t given? What about that?
What about when we seek and
seek and seek, for years and decades, and never ever find? What about when we knock till our
knuckles are raw and get no response?
If this is a formula for getting what we want, it’s a pretty lousy one.
Our dog Kirby died
yesterday.
He had been getting sicker,
or older, or something, but we did not expect it to come so soon. And so it was a very sad and shocking and
terrible day with tons of tears and lots of emotion and no real equilibrium at
all. He’s been through everything
with us, through most of our time as a family. And now he’s gone.
And in my house, when
anything swerves off the predictable path, theological questions come barreling
along, never far behind.
Why, God? Why do people and
things have to die?
Why don’t you do today what you
did in the bible?
Why should we even believe
you, God?
What could we ever pray
about and know you will hear us?
What about all those times
we prayed for Kirby?
And at the same time as
these big scary questions throw their broken bodies against God’s door, we’ve
kept holding each other and crying together, and calls and messages of love
have kept pouring in.
We’re praying for your family.
I know how it feels to lose a beloved pet; I’m holding you in prayer.
You’re in our thoughts today – we loved Kirby too.
We’re praying for your family.
I know how it feels to lose a beloved pet; I’m holding you in prayer.
You’re in our thoughts today – we loved Kirby too.
And I have no great answers
for any of those questions, my love.
But I can be with you when
you ask them.
And I can’t do anything to
make this sadness go away or bring back love that’s been lost.
But others can be with us when we’re sad.
And we can tell God how sad we are.
And perhaps that is prayer.
But others can be with us when we’re sad.
And we can tell God how sad we are.
And perhaps that is prayer.
What is prayer for anyway?
What does it accomplish?
Jesus seems to saying that
more than how or what or even why, prayer is all about who we pray to, and who we are. When we pray, God, like a loving parent, comes near; when we
pray, God, who knows what we need and sees us as we are, is right here with us.
One scholar says, “While at other places in
Scripture we are told that God knows our needs without being asked (Mt. 6:8),
here we are invited to make them known, to speak them into existence in the
confidence that whatever may happen, this relationship can bear hearing these
things and may actually even depend upon hearing them.” (David Lose)
Maybe it’s not about asking
for the right things or asking often enough, or in the right way. Maybe its just about asking,
period.
Because in throwing all our questions and pain and need at God we risk being known, we open ourselves to being loved, we demonstrate that we are really in this with God, who is really in this with us. And then come what may, we are not alone.
Because in throwing all our questions and pain and need at God we risk being known, we open ourselves to being loved, we demonstrate that we are really in this with God, who is really in this with us. And then come what may, we are not alone.
So how do you pray?
Just Ask. Simply Seek. Merely Knock.
Do what is right there
inside you to do, say what is pressing to come out, and don’t hold anything back.
Come shamelessly, with your
need, your hopes and your worries, your desires and your doubts. Just blurt them
right out there without holding back.
And then trust.
The one you come to will
hear your voice and respond.
And if it doesn’t seem to
happen, don’t back down. Stand there
and wait.
And even when the prayer is
over, and the asking has died down, when the seeking dries up for a spell and
the knocking goes quiet, God is still present.
How much more than all our
broken human care, and messages of love and support will this faithful and
loving parent give the Holy Spirit to we who ask, no matter what it is we are
asking for?
So when the need is past, or when it’s unfulfilled and
there’s grief and frustration and loss, still you’re not alone. You’ve invited God into it with you,
whatever it may be, and God is, and will, continue to be there. This relationship
that prayer puts words to is ongoing and without end. Even when the praying ends the relationship continues.
So, Lord, please,
teach us to pray.
No comments:
Post a Comment