Ask, Search, Knock

Luke 11:1-13

Jesus was in a certain place praying and when he was finished, one of his disciples came to him and said to him, “Lord, teach us to pray as John taught his disciples.” Jesus said to him, “When you pray, say, ‘Father, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come. Give us each day our daily bread. Forgive us our sins as we, ourselves, forgive everyone indebted to us. And do not bring us to the time of trial.”

And he said to them, “Suppose one of you has a friend and you came to him at midnight saying, ‘Friend, lend me three loaves of bread, for a friend of mine has arrived and I have nothing to set before him.’ And the reply comes, ‘Do not bother me, for the doors are already locked and my children are in bed with me, I cannot get up and give you anything.’ I tell you, even if he will not give him anything because he is his friend, at least because of his persistence will he get up and give him whatever he needs”

Therefore, ask and you will receive. Search and you will find. Knock and the door will be opened for you. For everyone who asks receives and everyone who searches finds and for whoever knocks the door will be opened. For who among you, if your child asked for a fish would give a snake? Or if he asked for an egg would give a stone? If you, then, who are evil, know how to give good things to your children when they ask, how much more will your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him?”

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I always wonder all the same things about this passage whenever I read it – the same things wondered over and over again by faithful people for generations. Like about how certain Jesus seems to be about God’s willingness and ability to answer prayers. Like, about how everyone who asks receives, and everyone who searches finds, and how for everyone who knocks the door will be opened. And I wondered, again, about how I don’t really buy that, if I’m honest.

Not everyone receives what they want. Everyone doesn’t find what they’re looking for. The doors don’t always open for everyone all of the time.

But I wondered this time around, too, about what those disciples were after in the first place, in that moment when they ask Jesus to teach them to pray.

And if you were here last week, you know that just before today’s conversation, Jesus was at his friend Martha’s house. And, while Martha was busy running around with all sorts of things to do, Mary sat still, and quiet, and listening at the feet of Jesus. And, when Martha – the busy-body – asked Jesus to make Mary – the slacker – give her a hand, Jesus surprises them all by praising Mary for getting it right, suggesting there was something to this whole still, silent, humble, listening “thing” she was up to.

And then, today, we hear Jesus was in a certain place praying – probably being still, silent, humble, and listening to God, just like Mary had done not long before. And we’re told, this is when one of the disciples comes to Jesus and say, “Lord, teach us to pray.”

So I wonder if maybe they don’t just want in on this prayer thing. I wonder if they noticed the kudos Mary received for getting it right. And we know this wasn’t the first and only time they’d seen Jesus go off somewhere “to a certain place,” set apart, all by his lonesome, to pray. And I imagine they were quite aware of the difference it made in his life.

What if all of that wisdom came from his ability to listen, first, to what God had to say to him?

What if all of his power came from his willingness, first, to sit humbly in the presence of his creator?

What if all of his stamina came from his ability to sit down, shut up, and be still, in the first place?

What if all of his wisdom and understanding; all of his counsel and might; all of his presence of mind; his patience and grace; his power to forgive; what if all of that grew out of those moments he spent receiving whatever he got during his time spent in prayer?

Who wouldn’t want in on that? Jesus, teach us to pray!

But, I think the Church in the world – and “professional prayers,” like me, if you will – and the liturgical police (those men and women who put too many rules around what can or can’t or should or shouldn’t be done or said or sung or spoken in worship) – I think all of that has turned the practice of prayer into something like a magic trick that won’t bear fruit or yield results or have meaning, even, if it’s not done in just the right way, with just the right words, for only the right reasons by only the right people.

And what I hear Jesus saying is that none of that’s true. Yeah, he suggests some words and ways to go about it, like those suggestions we’ve turned into the Lord’s Prayer:

“Father, hallowed be thy name,” which is just a matter of posture and perspective, if you ask me. It’s a way of lowering ourselves, humbling ourselves, placing ourselves in the proper place at the feet of, at the mercy of our maker.

And “Your kingdom come.” That seems like a catch-all and a time-saver to me, because if God’s kingdom were to come, the need for the rest of whatever we could pray for wouldn’t be necessary. It covers everything we might miss and it makes up for everything we might get wrong.

But being that the kingdom hasn’t come in all its fullness just yet, we’re encouraged to pray “Give us each day our daily bread.” In other words, in the meantime, while we’re still waiting, give us what we need to get by and teach us to trust that you will.

“And forgive us our sins, as we forgive those around us.” Or, “Help us to do unto others what we pray you’ll do for us.”

And finally, when we don’t live up to your expectations – when we can’t forgive, when we can’t love our neighbors as ourselves – spare us the consequences. “Save us from the time of trial,” because not one of us could bear it.

But, other than all of that, rather than make up a list of rules; rather than hand out a script or a hymnal or a bulletin; rather than do the praying on their behalf, Jesus says, “Ask.” “Search.” “Knock.” And then he promises that it will work!

And I learned something new and enlightening and very refreshing from Rachel Held Evans when a group of us read her book Inspired earlier this year. Because this “Ask… Search… Knock,” bit is hard to swallow, right? It seems too simple, too easy, too pie-in-the-sky, and like something every single one of us has evidence to disprove.

Who among us hasn’t asked for something, in prayer, that never came? Who among us hasn’t searched and scoured and sought an answer we never found? Who among us hasn’t knocked on a door that never opened? (… and that never turned into an open window, either, as that platitude goes.)

Well, bear with me here, because Rachel Held Evans wasn’t talking about prayer, but she wrote this about that whole “ask, search, knock” stuff:

“If you are looking for [Bible] verses with which to oppress women, you will find them. If you are looking for verses with which to honor and celebrate women, you will find them. If you are looking for reasons to wage war, there are plenty. If you are looking for reasons to promote peace, there are plenty more. If you are looking for an outdated and irrelevant ancient text, that’s exactly what you will see. If you are looking for truth, that’s exactly what you will find.”

And then she says:

“This is why there are times when the most instructive question to bring to the text is not ‘What does this say?’ but, ‘What am I looking for?’ I suspect Jesus knew this when he said, ‘Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.”

Again, Rachel Held Evans isn’t talking about prayer. She’s talking about our approach to scripture, in general: that how we begin … our perspective … our desired outcome … what it is we’re looking for … determines what we will find in the Bible.

And I think this might be Jesus’ point where prayer is concerned, too – and why he says all of that really important stuff first, before the “ask, knock, search” bit. Maybe he’s saying that if and when we begin our prayers with the proper posture of reverence for God (“Our Father in heaven…”), when we start with humility about ourselves (“hallowed by your name…”), when we begin with the truth about what and how much we actually need (“give us this day our daily bread…”); not more, not less, but enough for today, when we start by acknowledging our own sins and our great potential for more of them (“forgive us our trespasses and lead us not into temptation”), and when we start with our hope for redemption and salvation in the end (“thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory, forever) …

…when that is our state of mind, when that is our heart’s posture, when we approach our conversations with God with that sort of humility and hope, then what we’re asking for evolves, the doors we’re knocking on are different, and the stuff we’re seeking for ourselves and in this world will change in holy ways, unselfish ways, hopeful, faithful, merciful ways…

… ways that make God smile and allow us to see God respond – not with the stuff of this world, like fish or snakes, eggs or stones – but with the everlasting, life-giving, eternal things of God’s holy spirit.

Amen

"The Lord's Prayers" – Luke 11:1-13

Luke 11:1-13

He was praying in a certain place, and after he had finished, one of his disciples said to him, "Lord, teach us to pray, as John taught his disciples." He said to them, "When you pray, say: Father, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come. Give us each day our daily bread. And forgive us our sins, for we ourselves forgive everyone indebted to us. And do not bring us to the time of trial."

And he said to them, "Suppose one of you has a friend, and you go to him at midnight and say to him, "Friend, lend me three loaves of bread; for a friend of mine has arrived, and I have nothing to set before him.' And he answers from within, "Do not bother me; the door has already been locked, and my children are with me in bed; I cannot get up and give you anything.' I tell you, even though he will not get up and give him anything because he is his friend, at least because of his persistence he will get up and give him whatever he needs. "So I say to you, Ask, and it will be given you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you. For everyone who asks receives, and everyone who searches finds, and for everyone who knocks, the door will be opened. Is there anyone among you who, if your child asks for a fish, will give a snake instead of a fish? Or if the child asks for an egg, will give a scorpion? If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!"

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Don’t tell the Bishop, but I found myself wondering this week, if the Lord’s Prayer is everything it’s cracked up to be. I’m not about to remove it from our liturgy, or stop teaching it to our Faith Formation kids, or pretend there’s not abundant power in the way it binds us together as God’s people on the planet. Certainly, through Christian history and tradition, what we call “The Lord’s Prayer” or the “Our Father” has become a beautiful, unifying, comforting, familiar part of our faith’s expression that is invaluable in more ways than I could count, if I tried.

But what if it was never meant to be all of that?

I mean, look at these phrases and petitions and the context in which they are offered up by Jesus to his curious disciples: Jesus was in a certain place praying and when he was finished, one of his disciples came to him and said to him, “Lord, teach us to pray as John taught his disciples.”  Jesus said to him, “When you pray, say, ‘Father, hallowed be your name.  Your kingdom come.  Give us each day our daily bread.  Forgive us our sins as we, ourselves, forgive everyone indebted to us.  And do not bring us to the time of trial.”

If you take Jesus off of his pedestal and put him in the plain clothes and dirty, dusty sandals of First Century Galilee, as the man, milling around the countryside, preaching and teaching and whatnot… If you see him, just back from “a certain place,” praying as he was wont to do… If you see him as a teacher and as a leader, being asked by one of his followers for some advice about how to pray…

Maybe you can imagine, like I do, that Jesus, that guy from Nazareth, never meant for these little nuggets of advice; these little petitions of prayer; these short, sweet little mantras – pregnant with meaning, mind you – to be turned into one single prayer, to be prayed – as one; to be lifted up as the prayer of all prayers, until the end of time.

“Lord, teach us to pray, like we’ve heard John taught his disciples.” It’s a simple enough request, right? Let us know what you’re up to when you go off by yourself. What do you do? What do you say? Why should we bother? 

And so, maybe Jesus stopped for a moment and gave it some thought… maybe he considered the prayers and petitions he’d just offered, himself, a moment before… or maybe not. Maybe Jesus just rattled off the first things that came to mind, as a way to get his friend’s own wheels spinning about how he might have a conversation with God.

Jesus says, “When you pray, say, ‘Father, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come.’ Say, ‘Give us each day our daily bread.’ Say, ‘Forgive us our sins as we, ourselves, forgive everyone indebted to us.’ Say, ‘And do not bring us to the time of trial.’”

And of course, the advice still stands, whether we string Jesus’ petitions together as The Lord’s Prayer, or not. 

In other words, to start, “recognize that there’s a God bigger than you – ‘Father, hallowed by your name’.” Acknowledge that there is a source of love and grace and life in the universe you’d like to tap into; and be part of; and live in response to. And let ‘Your kingdom come’ among us, God. Give us a taste, here and now, of what your kind of love and mercy and grace can feel like in the world, as we know it. Don’t make us wait another day, another minute for the kind of goodness and mercy we long for so desperately.”

And he goes on. “Give us each day our daily bread.” Appropriately humbled, as much as you’re able, then, and full of hope, don’t be afraid to ask for what you need. ‘Give us each day our daily bread.’ Not more than we need… Not more than we deserve… Not more than we can use… Not more than our fair share… But, daily bread… nothing more, nothing less. 

“And ask for some forgiveness, while you’re at it. Admit that you need it. Acknowledge what your creator already knows about your faults and your shortcomings and your sins. And then ask for the same kind of forgiveness on behalf of your enemies, too. If you can pray for God to forgive them, it might help you move in the direction of forgiveness, yourself. And God wants that – for you and for the world.”

And finally, when you don’t live up to your expectations, Jesus suggests praying, ‘Save us from the time of trial’.” “When you forget your place, when you lose your perspective, when you take advantage of God’s abundance in your life, when you can’t forgive, when you can’t love your neighbor – ask God to spare you the consequences. Please God, ‘Save us from the time of trial,’ because not one of us could bear the judgement we deserve, if we’re honest. Be gracious and merciful and kind; give us second-chances and grant us some measure of hope for tomorrow; and let us try again when we fail.” 

Now, taking the Lord’s Prayer out of the context of worship like this, and imagining it as nothing more and nothing less than a conversation – if not a teaching moment – between Jesus and one of us followers, may seem a little simplistic…maybe a bit irreverent, even. But whenever it shows up in Scripture like this, instead of in the Sunday morning bulletin, it reminds me to dust it off, to see it at face value, and to try to make sense of it in new ways.

See, I’ve thought for some time now that Jesus teaching his disciples how to pray is like me teaching my boys how to order dinner at a restaurant. I say things like, “Speak up.  Talk clearly.  Look the server in the eye.  Tell them what you want.  Say it like you mean it.”

I think Jesus is doing the same with all of these petitions and with all of that talk about asking and knocking and searching; and with that stuff about fish and snakes and eggs and stones, too. He’s encouraging us to engage a conversation with God.  He’s suggesting we not be shy. He’s inviting us to be bold and brave and faithful and to use our words. He’s encouraging us to get into a relationship with our creator, the way he, himself, was in a relationship with God the Father.

Now, God is not a server at a fine restaurant, so we may not always get just what we want or all we think we deserve.  But I don’t know any relationship worth anything that’s that easy.

Still, we ask.  We search.  We knock. We are not afraid, or bashful. We don’t worry about being right, even. We just say it like we mean it and let God do the rest – the giving, the withholding, the loving, the blessing, the forgiving, and whatever else we trust God sees that we need. 

Because prayer – and our relationship with God as children of God – is about trusting God to deliver… and to take good care… and to love in ways only God can manage, with all the grace and generosity that comes to life in Jesus Christ.

Amen