Pastor Cogan

Asking for a Friend - Thy Kingdom Come?

Matthew 6:7-13

“When you are praying, do not heap up empty phrases as the gentiles do, for they think that they will be heard because of their many words. Do not be like them, for your Father knows what you need before you ask him.

“Pray, then, in this way:

Our Father in heaven,

    may your name be revered as holy.

    May your kingdom come.

    May your will be done

        on earth as it is in heaven.

    Give us today our daily bread.

    And forgive us our debts,

        as we also have forgiven our debtors.

    And do not bring us to the time of trial,

        but rescue us from the evil one.

“For if you forgive others their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you,

We begin a new series today called “Asking for a Friend: Real Questions. Honest Faith.” Usually we say Asking for a friend jokingly, when we want to know something for ourselves but might be too shy or embarrassed to ask. Yet, over the past several weeks we have gathered questions that you want answered. We’ve taken those questions, grouped a few, and over the next eight weeks we will answer each of them. In a literal sense, these people have asked their question, not just for themselves but for you too. Because I am certain with each question someone else sitting here or watching will say, I had the same question. You are the “friend” in this series. 

And what a gift it is to have thoughtful, honest questions raised about all sorts of faith things: from prayer to evolution, biblical interpretation to politics, heaven and hell, and more. We will do our best not to provide simple, sure answers, but to wrestle openly, honestly, faithfully with the questions raised. A favorite quip in our household comes from a college professor Katelyn and I both had who said, one’s faith is only as strong as their willingness to question it. Hopefully this series will do exactly that; strengthen our faith through the questions we engage.

So to our first question, “what exactly do we mean when we say, ‘thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.’” I love this question for lots of reasons. It is concise and clear, as are all the best questions. It’s one of the rare occurrences when Jesus gives exact words to say. We often get things to do, fewer things to say, and even fewer to pray. So I’d say that it’s worth our study. 

And lastly, it is about something so familiar that rarely, if ever, do we stop to ask, what am I, what are we, actually saying? We pray this prayer aloud, together, every Sunday. You probably say it throughout the week. But when was the last time you wondered “ what am I praying for with this prayer?” 

But beware, “thy kingdom come, thy will be done” is a dangerous prayer. Dangerous for the world as we know it, and for us.

It’s dangerous for the world because it is, in part, a political prayer. I’m guessing you never thought you were bringing politics into your prayer life every time you said the Lord’s Prayer—but indeed we are. And we can blame Jesus for that. Because in those three little words—thy kingdom come—Jesus is saying an awful lot. 

The kingdom on earth in Jesus’ time was Rome. A few wealthy men ruled, including Herod. Those who served the empire or its military were well off. There was no middle class. Everyone else—local businesspeople, artisans, and especially fishermen and farmers—were peasants, including Jesus. 

Herod was the ruler of Galilee, where Jesus grew up and began his ministry. But Galilee was under Roman rule, which meant Herod answered to Rome, not to his people. Like all earthly empires, this one hurt people, kept power in the hands of a few, and disregarded the lives of many, especially the people Jesus spent most of his time with.

So when Jesus says thy kingdom come, he’s saying: “things are not as they should be. 

This empire of violence, oppression, and greed must be undone—stopped, even replaced. 

And in its place, give us your kingdom, Lord.” 

Which, if we pay attention to how Jesus describes it, is a rather radical thing to pray for. 

A kingdom where the last are first and the first last? 

A kingdom like a wedding party where the invited guests refuse to come, so people off the street—good and bad alike—are welcomed instead? 

A kingdom described as seeds and weeds and small, insignificant things? That’s what Jesus wants us to pray for? 

A kingdom that couldn’t be more at odds with the world as it is? 

Yes. Exactly.

Jesus praying that prayer—and telling others to pray it too—was a threat to Herod and to Rome. Which shouldn’t surprise us. After all, Jesus had been a threat to the kingdoms of the world since his birth.

What that means for us is that we too are asking for God’s kingdom to come, reforming all the violent, oppressive, greedy kingdoms of this world. It means we recognize that things are not as they should be in this world: hungry children dying in Gaza, a week ago today 5 kids were shot not 10 miles from here, the wealthy growing wealthier while others are crushed by scarcity. 

And because of all that and more, we long to be part of God’s kingdom—a kingdom of grace and mercy, of debts forgiven and cheeks turned, of self-sacrifice and love. When we pray thy kingdom come, we are praying not only for us to be in the kingdom, but for the kingdom to be in us. That we might be God’s kingdom at work in the world. Sounds pretty dangerous to me. But perhaps no more dangerous than the next part: thy will be done.

And for this I need to share a story about my son, Clive. He is a wonderful, joyous, and downright defiant little creature. I have never known someone so uncooperative in all my life! 

Last week we were trying to get breakfast together. I asked him, "Do you want some oatmeal?" and he said, "No! I want candy!"

"No buddy, we don’t eat candy for breakfast."

"But that’s what I want."

"Clive, you can’t eat candy for breakfast."

"I want blue candy for breakfast!"

I thought, I can’t even think of what candy that might be… 

So I said again, "Clive, we can’t have candy for breakfast, it’s not good for us."

To which he responded, "But it’s yummy and I want it!" and then proceeded to sprawl on the floor and cry. All I could do was laugh.

But it made me think: this is how God must see us. Wonderful, joyous, but downright defiant little creatures who do what they will, regardless of whether it’s what God wills for us.

When we say, “thy will be done”, we’re recognizing that the things we want are not always what they should be; like blue candy for breakfast, or whatever the newest, greatest product is. 

We live in a culture that says the perfect life is always one more purchase away—one more pill, one more upgrade, one more new thing. But the life we want is always just out of reach.

So we pray thy will be done.

We beg God to take away our heart’s desires and replace them with God’s desires.

That’s dangerous.

Because God’s will might not look like what we want.

It might hurt. It might be uncomfortable. It might change us entirely. That was the case for Jesus, after all.

When we say those four little words, we’re really saying: Have mercy on us, Lord.

Don’t let things happen just because we want them to.

Give us patience.

Give us grace.

Give us strength.

To bear whatever you ask of us—

crucifying our will,

And raising up your divine will in its place.

That’s a dangerous prayer indeed.

We’re not just confessing that the world is marked by sin and sorrow—we’re admitting that we are too. So we ask God to change us so that we might go and change the world, little by little, bit by bit, until this world and those on it feel like we are in heaven, which is the goal, isn’t it? 

And by this, I don’t mean heaven, as a place, but as a condition - because to be in heaven is nothing other than being with God. So when God’s way of doing things takes over the world and our hearts, we will be with God and God will be with us in the best, fullest way possible. In that way, earth will be as it is in heaven. 

And that sounds even better than blue candy for breakfast. 

Amen.



The Primeval Mythology of Genesis - Babel and Beyond

John 17:20-23

Jesus prayed, “I ask not only on behalf of these but also on behalf of those who believe in me through their word, that they may all be one. As you, Father, are in me and I am in you, may they also be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me.

The glory that you have given me I have given them, so that they may be one, as we are one, I in them and you in me, that they may become completely one,

so that the world may know that you have sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me.”


Artificial Intelligence is not your friend—it’s the Tower of Babel. That was the title of the first article I saw this week while preparing for today. Another headline from a Jewish student paper read: AI: The Modern Tower of Babel. A theme was emerging. Faith publications and organizations are writing incessantly about AI and faith, the church, spirituality, and more.

Then Pastor Mark told me to listen to a segment from 1A this week about AI and faith. It was fascinating—and a little frightening.

I’ll be honest, I thought I had pretty good job security against AI and robots… until I listened to that segment.

I learned about Pastors.AI, a chatbot trained for a specific church using sermons and resources from real pastors. Meaning, you could upload all the videos and manuscripts from Pastor Mark’s sermons over the past 24 years, and the chatbot would generate answers to questions, write sermons, and craft Bible studies—just like he would! You could have your own Pastor Mark in your pocket.

Then there’s Gloo—AI evangelism. Gloo claims it helps churches grow by tracking digital interactions, managing prayer requests, responding to texts, and making new connections.

Entire denominations are diving into AI. If you're Catholic, you can't use just any faith-based AI, so you turn to Ask Father Justin. Apparently, a problem arose where some people preferred confessing to Father Justin instead of their priest. Imagine that… And it’s not just Catholics who do AI.

Episcopalians have Cathy—Church Answers That Help You. Right on the Diocese of Lexington’s homepage, you can talk with Cathy and learn anything you want from the Episcopalian perspective.But what good is the church or denominations if you can just chat with Jesus yourself, AI Jesus that is? If you try that one let me know.

So is AI a threat to the church? Or a tool to help it grow? Is it humans trying to become like God, or is it a resource that makes God more accessible? Is this software a reversal of Genesis 1 where we make God in our image, one chatbot at a time?Is it a new Tower of Babel—our attempt to code our way to God?

How might this ancient story help us with such questions? More importantly, what might it tell us about Jesus?

The Tower of Babel is mysterious. It's short, raises more questions than it answers, and isn't referenced anywhere else in the Bible. Like the other stories in Genesis 1–11, it’s an origin story; one that tries to explain how different nations and languages came to be. Linguists agree though, this is not how languages came about. It much more complicated. As is this story. To read it as only an explanation of languages or cultures misses what all it reveals about God.

It’s also the origin story of Babylon. Thousands of years ago, Babylon made a major technological advance: the brick. They could take bricks, butter’em with bitumen, stack them on top of each other and build.

So the people said, “Let’s build a city and a tower with its top in the heavens, and make a name for ourselves, or else we’ll be scattered across the earth.” That one sentence is full of so much irony. The tower didn’t reach heaven. In fact, God had to come down to earth just to see it. And when God finds it, God isn’t pleased. Why exactly? We’re not told. What we do know is that God confused their language and scattered all the people—the very thing they were trying to avoid.

That question—why did God do this?—has led to many interpretations, some with harmful consequences.

One interpretation says God scattered the people because mixing cultures, ethnicities, and languages is bad. That view has been used to justify segregation in this country and apartheid in South Africa.But I don’t read this story as the scattering being a consequence or punishment.

God said twice “to fill the earth and subdue”. Well you can’t do that if people are all in one place.

So scattering wasn’t punishment - it was the plan. As were the different languages and ethnicities. Diversity was God’s design from the start.

Another view is that God is suspicious of cities. So, urban life must be prideful or ungodly, while small-town life is holier and safer. But that doesn’t align with the broader biblical story.

God called Jonah to Nineveh, a powerful city, because God cared for its people and animals.

Jesus longed to gather Jerusalem under his wing. Revelation envisions a new heaven and earth—with a new Jerusalem at its center.

God is not suspicious of cities, but is as present there as anywhere else in the world.

And perhaps most pertinent today: some believe God scattered humanity because they were too advanced. Such a reading makes folks skeptical of scientific progress and technological advances like, well, Artificial Intelligence.

But I don’t think God was all that concerned about some bricks stacked a couple hundred feet in the air. Nor is God all that impressed with our towers of today: our advances, systems, or political structures.

And I am pretty sure God isn’t wringing hands over Artificial Intelligence like everyone else seems to be.

What I think God is concerned about is any human attempt to work our way up to God, any effort to work out our own salvation. And we try all the time. We think: “If I just do enough good,” “If I go to church enough,” “If I text with AI Jesus,” or “complete my Bible AI devotional”—then I’ll get to God.

All our technological advances will undoubtedly do a lot of good. But if we think software can save us, it’s no different than thinking a tower can take us to heaven. The tower never reaches.

We can’t code our way up to God.

But the good news of our faith is that we don’t have to go up to God because God came down to us in Jesus Christ. And through that person, that real, divine, tangible person, do we and all the world receive the grace and forgiveness we could never create for ourselves, no matter how advanced we get. Through that person, all the scattered people of the world might be one in him.

That’s what, or really who, holds this community together. We don’t all hold the same views, or come from the same backgrounds, or see the world in the same way. Sometimes it probably seems like we aren’t even speaking the same language. And yet, it is the grace and forgiveness and mercy of Jesus that binds us together as one.

This A.I stuff isn’t going away anytime soon. It certainly has it’s dangers. At the same time it is a technological tool and the church has always engaged with these tools. When the printing press was invited, the church made tracts and pamphlets. When radio came around, preachers broadcasted their sermons across the airwaves.

TVs gave rise to the televangelist. And today nearly everyone watches a service online before they ever step foot through our doors. So it should be no surprise that christians, churches, pastors, denominations, are using A.I. in all sorts of ways.

But like any tool, it can be misused and lead to harm, like thinking it can somehow take us up to God, as an ancient tower once tried. Or that it can bring Jesus down to us.

Yet it can’t do that either, because Jesus came down and is here already. Here at the table where we get our fill of his forgiveness in bread and wine. Here in the waters of baptism where we are washed by his grace. Here in your neighbor, who reflects the very image of God. By his coming down to us, Jesus made his love tangible through these physical signs of his grace that he freely gives to us.

And that’s something A.I. can never give. Amen.