Abraham:Prayer of Bargaining

Genesis 18:20-33

Then the Lord said, ‘How great is the outcry against Sodom and Gomorrah and how very grave their sin! I must go down and see whether they have done altogether according to the outcry that has come to me; and if not, I will know.’

So the men turned from there, and went towards Sodom, while Abraham remained standing before the Lord. Then Abraham came near and said, ‘Will you indeed sweep away the righteous with the wicked? Suppose there are fifty righteous within the city; will you then sweep away the place and not forgive it for the fifty righteous who are in it? Far be it from you to do such a thing, to slay the righteous with the wicked, so that the righteous fare as the wicked! Far be that from you! Shall not the Judge of all the earth do what is just?’ And the Lord said, ‘If I find at Sodom fifty righteous in the city, I will forgive the whole place for their sake.’

Abraham answered, ‘Let me take it upon myself to speak to the Lord, I who am but dust and ashes. Suppose five of the fifty righteous are lacking? Will you destroy the whole city for lack of five?’ And he said, ‘I will not destroy it if I find forty-five there.’ Again he spoke to him, ‘Suppose forty are found there.’ He answered, ‘For the sake of forty I will not do it.’ Then he said, ‘Oh do not let the Lord be angry if I speak. Suppose thirty are found there.’ He answered, ‘I will not do it, if I find thirty there.’ He said, ‘Let me take it upon myself to speak to the Lord. Suppose twenty are found there.’ He answered, ‘For the sake of twenty I will not destroy it.’ Then he said, ‘Oh do not let the Lord be angry if I speak just once more. Suppose ten are found there.’ He answered, ‘For the sake of ten I will not destroy it.’ And the Lord went his way, when he had finished speaking to Abraham; and Abraham returned to his place.

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How annoying is Abraham? What a nuisance. What a pest. What a nag. Am I right?

And haven’t we all been there? Begging. Pleading. Nagging. Bargaining with God for the things we want and need and long for in life?

We wanted to start our first bit in this series with Abraham, because his prayer is – along with this Gospel bit from Jesus – like a primer of sorts for how we do – or could do – prayer as faithful people in the world.

Because, for me, the most instructive, inspiring thing about Abraham tonight is that he embodies the things that, I believe, are marks of a faithful pray-er:

First, Abraham knows – and is known by – the God to whom he prays. There’s no way this is the first time he’s been in conversation with his maker. In the story of Abraham, he is righteous from the get-go. [SLIDE 1] His faithful, righteousness is what set him apart in the first place – several chapters earlier – called to leave his homeland, his family, all he had ever known, and to travel – at God’s direction – to be a blessing for the world. Abraham’s faithful, righteous ways are the reason God chose him, to begin with, to be the father of a great nation. They had struck deals with each other before – Abraham and God. They had made covenants, held promises, counted the stars together, traveled long distances. These two – Abraham and the Divine – knew each other; they were very well-acquainted; they were intimately familiar, one with the other.

Secondly, Abraham is humble. Not only has he done God’s bidding in so many ways until we meet up with him tonight, in all the ways I’ve already described, but we get a glimpse of his humility in his praying today. For one, he declares himself nothing more than dust and ashes. (He would have gladly covered his shoulders with sackcloth for the occasion, I suspect.) And before his petitions, over and over again, he asks permission, with deference to God’s power: “Let me take it upon myself to speak to the Lord…” “If you’ll allow me…” “If I may…”

And lastly – for my money, anyway – Abraham is as bold as he is righteous and humble. Perhaps he’s bold because he is so righteous and humble. Because he has such a faithful, familiar relationship with his God and because he’s so genuinely humble in the presence of his Lord, Abraham is not shy about shooting his shot; about asking for his heart’s desire; about putting the screws to the God of all creation, like he does. “But what if there are 50 … what about 45 … okay 40 … okay 30, 20, 10 …” “Far be it from you, God, to do such a thing…” That takes some nerve and persistence, don’t you think?

So, again, when I think about the posture and perspective with which we enter into the prayers of our ancestors tonight and in the days to come – and as we wonder about the way we pray, ourselves – I think Abraham is a model worth emulating:

 Let’s engage a faithful regular relationship – let us practice and pray often;

 Let us approach God with deference and humility;

 And then let us be bold; let us say what we mean, what we need, let us be honest and clear about what
we long for – trusting that God already knows anyway.

Which brings me to Jesus – and that bit from Luke’s Gospel. The disciples have just asked Jesus to teach them how to pray and, after some petitions that have since been turned into the Lord’s Prayer, Jesus does all of that “Ask, Search, Knock” stuff.

“Ask and it will be given to you. Search and you will find. Knock and the door will be opened for you.”

And that’s hard because who would believe it? “Ask, search, knock?” It sounds so easy, too simple, impossible and unlikely, really, that God would bother with any of what any one of us has to say. And we can all cite examples, I’m sure, that prove Jesus wrong: times when questions didn’t have answers; times when we never found what we were looking for; times when doors – not only wouldn’t open – but times when doors were slammed in our face.

That’s why I think Jesus must have been up to something else.

After all, very rarely is Jesus so certain about anything as he seems to be here. All throughout his ministry he answers questions with questions. He teaches in parables, not lectures. He leaves so much up in the air about the very nature of his identity, even, all the way up to the very end when he’s about to be crucified. Yet, we read this passage about prayer and want so badly for this one to be black and white or cut and dried.

But, maybe Jesus was up to something else, entirely, when he invited us to pray. And I have to believe it didn’t have so much to do with any one of us getting whatever we want at any given moment. I happen to believe Jesus is trying to teach us – little children that we can be too much of the time – about what we need to live differently as people of faith in this world.

I believe Jesus invites us to pray, not so that we’ll get whatever it is we want or simply that we’ll change the things and the stuff and the circumstances in our day to day lives. I believe Jesus invites us to pray so that we will be changed – from the inside out – when we learn to encounter the things and the stuff and the circumstances in our day-to-day lives with hearts and minds centered on God’s place and power in the midst of it all.

And I think that’s what the gift of regular, humble, bold praying – like Abraham and practiced – still offers to us as believers.

Samuel Shoemaker is a long-dead Episcopal priest, who gets credit for saying something like, “Prayer may not change things for you, but it sure changes you for things.”

“Prayer may not change things for you, but it sure changes you for things.”

See, the other thing you might notice about Abraham’s prayer tonight – and the truth about the rest of that story – is that it his prayer didn’t have anything to do with him. And God didn’t answer it exactly as Abraham seemed to expect, either. That’s not the moral of this story – Sodom and Gomorrah were decimated, in the end, remember.

See, maybe, with all of that back and forth with God, Abraham was negotiating grace just for the sake of it. Maybe, with all of that bargaining, Abraham was testing the capacity of God’s compassion. Maybe, in all of that math and number-crunching, Abraham was trying to measure the mercy of his maker.

But the truth seems to be, some have said, that Abraham was doing all of that praying with hopes that God would spare the life of his nephew Lot and his family. Abraham’s persistent longing wasn’t for his own blessing and benefit. It was all for the protection, blessing, and benefit of someone he knew and loved – even if they had been estranged and separated, as the story goes.

And if that’s the power and purpose and result of our praying – if our prayer doesn’t always change things for us, but changes the way we care about and consider things for others and the world around us – that’s a gift and a blessing that can’t be measured.

“Prayer may not change things for you, but it sure changes you for things.”

So let us pray. Let us ask, search, and knock. Let us be faithful, humble, and bold. Let us be selfish if we dare, but let us be prepared for God to make us selfless, just the same. Let us be greedy, if we must. But let us be open and prepared for God to turn that greed into generosity. Let us be persistent and unyielding in our requests, but don’t be so sure – or surprised – if God turns that into trust and patience, in the end.

I believe prayer changes things, as even the cheesiest bumper sticker suggests, no matter how or when or what we’re praying for. But I believe that, when we pray like Abraham – with faith, humility, and bold expectation, on behalf of others – the first thing prayer will change – by God’s grace – is us.

Amen

Same Devil

Matthew 4:1-11

Then Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil. He fasted forty days and forty nights, and afterwards he was famished. The tempter came and said to him, “If you are the Son of God, command these stones to become loaves of bread.” But he answered, “It is written,‘One does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.’”

Then the devil took him to the holy city and placed him on the pinnacle of the temple, saying to him, “If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down; for it is written, ‘He will command his angels concerning you,’ and ‘On their hands they will bear you up, so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.’ ” Jesus said to him, “Again it is written, ‘Do not put the Lord your God to the test.’ ”

Again, the devil took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor; and he said to him, “All these I will give you, if you will fall down and worship me.” Jesus said to him, “Away with you, Satan! for it is written, ‘Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him.’ ” Then the devil left him, and suddenly angels came and waited on him.

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Some of you might have seen my Facebook post last week about how I was listening to Brandi Carlile in preparation for the show Christa and I saw on Friday, up in Chicago. (Brandi Carlile sings “The Story” that we sang in worship last year every Wednesday, during Lent. She’s the woman who sang “America the Beautiful” before the Super Bowl a couple of weeks, too. She’s one of my favorites.) Anyway, with today’s Gospel on my brain, my concert-prep turned into sermon-prep when her duet with Brandy Clark showed up in my playlist by way of a song called, “Same Devil.”

Among other things, in this song about the way evil sneaks into our lives the Brandies sing:

Everybody’s got some kind of hell
Just different levels
Different demons
Same devil

He don't knock
He walks right in
And if you're not watchin'
You'll run right into him

Same wrong, different right
Different tunnel, same bright light
Everybody lookin' for God on every level
Different demons
Same damn devil

It felt like the universe and my Spotify playlist were on the same page as the lectionary and this perennial story of Jesus’ temptation showed up at the beginning of another Lent.

And as we live into and begin this season of Lent together, as we consider a journey to the Cross of Good Friday and as we look forward to the hope of Easter, what does this little game of “Truth or Dare” between Jesus and the Devil have to do with us? What does this duel of wit and willpower, good and evil, Truth and temptation have to do with you or with me?

For my money, the power of this story comes in its persistent relevance – the nearness of this devil and the evil he represents; these temptations that belong to us just as much as they showed up for Jesus; the way we’re all “looking for God on every level,” as the song goes; how we each struggle with different demons, but it’s the same damn devil – the same evil of Sin and temptation – that dogs us all, that walks right in on every one of us, without knocking, at some time or another in our lives.

And the evidence of how prolific it is – this sin, this evil, this temptation – and the impact of our capacity to choose and fall victim to it, is everywhere.

Remember that unfaithful couple who got caught red-handed on the Kiss Cam at the Coldplay concert this summer? Their temptation – and its ramifications – were as public as it gets.

And did you see the controversy over that Canadian Olympic curler who, video evidence seems to show, just couldn’t resist poking that stone ever-so slightly and every-so slyly, over the line and outside of the rules?

And it can be deeper and darker than any of that, of course, too.

We’ve all heard about the man who shot and killed that police officer in Beech Grove, Brian Elliott, last week. What Devil … what Evil … what choices rolled around in his heart of hearts before he made the worst, wrong decision to pull the trigger last Monday evening?

And how about those social media oligarchs who are on trial for manipulating algorithms to influence the hearts and minds and lives of us all – and especially our young people – for the sake of more of our time, more of our allegiance, more of their money. What Devil of greed and power must be whispering in their ear and winning their allegiance in all of that?

And what about those Epstein Files? What ugly, depraved, sinful temptation crept into the mind and body of every grown man who’s name – redacted or not – released or still hidden – is listed in that infamous and evil treasure trove of sin?

Obviously, temptation and its results in the world surround us. All over the place, people are trying in all the wrong ways to prove their worth, to put their God to the test, to gain and abuse power, to test the limits of Sin.

In other words, too many take the dare every time. And sometimes, if we’re honest, the sort of cosmic “Truth or Dare” – this duel between truth and temptation – is even closer than the evening news.

I’m grateful and pray that most of us won’t ever have the chance to play this game on a world-sized stage or with such devastating results, but we’re familiar with the wilderness Jesus finds himself in this morning, are we not?

We can always measure and minimize our sinfulness against something as ugly and depraved as the Epstein Files, but we can also opt to misuse privilege and abuse power in ways that shame children or that take advantage of others unfairly.

We may not have the capacity to commit corporate-level fraud … but there’s always the option of being honest with our taxes; and we decide daily what “enough” is for us and with whom we will share our treasures – our God or our greed.

We may not have influence over something as grand as the Olympic games, but we are faced often with the opportunity to choose, to support, and to vote for fairness, equity, and justice.

We may never get caught cheating on the big screen at Madison Square Garden, but we make choices daily about whether to treat our spouses or significant others with integrity – or not.

Truth or Dare. The nature of the game has changed for those of us who find ourselves playing it NOT at birthday parties or in our pajamas at a sleep-over, but in our offices and in our schools and in our relationships and in our churches, too.

So maybe the greatest lesson we learn here is the simple fact that Jesus had to play this game, too. We’ve learned of Jesus’ coming to be with us – to be like us – as a baby in a manger. And we’re preparing to witness again that he died like we will, too. But it’s easy to forget that, in the meantime, even while he was preaching and teaching and healing and doing all kinds of miraculous things, Jesus was tempted and tested just like us as well.

The same damn devil that hounds us all … the same evil with which we contend … knocked on Jesus’ door, too.

But, thankfully, Jesus – as one of us – shows us how to play the game more faithfully. Jesus could have answered the temptations of evil by changing stones into bread and he could have jumped head-first off the top of the temple and lived, but where would that leave you and me? Who of us here can respond to temptation with that kind of power?

That’s why the hope for me in this morning’s Gospel is that Jesus dealt with the evil that confronted him without miracles, without relying on his own wisdom and without even his friends, his family and his disciples to help bail him out, that day in the wilderness. Jesus relied on nothing more and nothing less than his faith in the God who loved him, no matter what. The God who – at his baptism, not long before – had declared him beloved; and with whom God was already and always “well pleased.” And there’s hope in that good news for each of us.

Because of that, we get to see that faith is not only about miracles, grand gestures, and demonstrations of power – like the Devil likes to pretend. Jesus’ proved – even in the darkest moments of his temptations – in his solitude, when no one was looking – that faith is about nothing more and nothing less than relying on the Word, the promises, the Truth, and the love of God.

So I don’t know what your greatest temptations may be – the juicy stuff – vices of drink or drug or pornography or gambling, maybe. The small sacrifices some of us give up for Lent – chocolate, coffee, cursing, or social media, perhaps. (Frankly, I don’t believe God cares as much about those thing as the world likes to pretend – unless or until they do damage to our lives, our relationships, or to the world around us, of course.)

Maybe what tempts you is harder to see – the temptation to keep holding that grudge, or to refuse that forgiveness; the temptation to selfishness or pride or perfection; the temptation to let your fears and your grief trump your faith and your hope, too much of the time.

Whatever the case, Jesus shows us today that, because of his victory – not just that day in the wilderness but in his victory over the cross, too – that because he has already won the game between truth and temptation, between good and evil, between life and death, you and I get to play it all differently.

Because of his victory, new dares, new challenges and new lives are ours for the taking. Let us be tempted, then, to trust in our own forgiveness – so that we might share that kind of mercy with others. Let us be tempted to more gratitude and generosity. Let us be tempted to live knowing joy and hope and expectation of better things to come.

And let us be tempted to share, more often and more generously, an abundance of grace with ourselves, each other, and the world – not because we’re plagued by the same damn devil – but because we’re claimed by the same loving God, in Jesus Christ our Lord.

Amen