Pastor Mark

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?”


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

There's Something About Mary

Luke 10:38-42

Now as they went on their way, Jesus entered a certain village where a woman named Martha welcomed him into her home. She had a sister named Mary who sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to what he was saying. But Martha was distracted be her many tasks; so she came to Jesus and asked, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself? Tell her then to help me.” Jesus said to her, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part which will not be taken away from her.”


I was inspired by a Mary Oliver quotation this week while I was stewing about this morning’s sermon. Maybe you saw my hint about it on social media yesterday. The quotation is short and sweet:

“It is a serious thing just to be alive on this fresh morning in this broken world.”

Her name, Mary, of course, and her namesake in this morning’s Gospel seemed like something worth paying attention to. And many of us have heard this bit about Mary and Martha…

Jesus has been pretty busy at this point in Luke’s version of the story, as we’ve heard in the last few weeks. He’s been working hard to prep his disciples to go out into the world to cure the sick, proclaim the good news, cast out demons – all of which they have done. Jesus, himself, has been casting out demons, preaching and teaching, healing and traveling from town to town and from place to place for all of the above, as well.

And today he gets to “a certain village,” which we assume is a place called Bethany because we know, from John’s Gospel, that that’s where Mary and Martha lived with their brother Lazarus. And since John’s Gospel also lets us know what good friends they all were – Jesus, Lazarus, Mary and Martha – I like to think Jesus showed up at Bethany and was welcomed, warmly, by Martha because it was a safe place for him to rest; that maybe it was a home away from home; that, at least, it was a place where he was among friends and away from the strangers and strange places he’d been visiting until then.

And Martha’s working hard to welcome her friend. Probably preparing food. Maybe making up the guest bed. Perhaps fetching water, wrangling the kids, filling lamps with oil, borrowing things from the neighbors, and whatever else a First Century homemaker did to make a guest feel at home.

And all of this while her sister Mary is just hanging out with Jesus in the living room. So Martha asks for some help from Jesus to get Mary off her butt and to help a sister out. But Jesus surprises Martha – and maybe Mary – and probably whoever else was listening, because Mary wasn’t doing what she was supposed to be doing according – not just to Martha – but according, too, to the social standards of the day. While Martha was filling her First Century shoes as a servant to the men, Mary was bucking the system, hanging out with Jesus, spending time with the guys, presumably, and NOT serving, but sitting; NOT doing, but being; NOT distracted by a litany of tasks, but dedicated to listening to her teacher.

And that was perfectly fine with Jesus – and as it should be, as far as he was concerned.

So I appreciate this reminder from Mary, of Bethany. And I appreciate the one from Mary Oliver, too, that “it is a serious thing just to be alive on this fresh morning in this broken world.” And I’d like to be a little bit more like them both, because sometimes I take the ‘serious’ bit too seriously – especially as your Pastor and as a preacher in this place a lot of the time.

Don’t get me wrong, this is serious business, following Jesus and living lives of faith in this world, broken as it is. And I think this might have been some of Mary Oliver’s point. But paying so much attention to the broken parts of it all are – and have been – tiresome in recent days, months, and years. And I suspect you’ve felt that, too.

I’ve been banging the drum of anti-racism a whole heck of a lot around here – and I worry sometimes that that gets old. I’ve been waving a proverbial rainbow flag of acceptance, welcome and inclusion for our LGBTQ+ brothers and sisters too, and I realize that’s more work for some of us than it is for others. And we are bombarded with the horrifying reality of school shootings, abortion debates, wars, insurrections, and political divisions, too.

I’m always working to encourage generosity and sacrifice where our financial resources are concerned. I’m forever looking to engage more and more of us in opportunities to get our hands dirty around here and out in the world. And so much of what I feel called to preach and teach from one week to the next is set up as a “holy challenge.” I realize I use that phrase a lot. I’m not apologizing for it. I think it’s faithful. I believe it’s what Jesus calls us to. I’m certain it makes us better and that it makes the world look a little bit more like the Kingdom of God.

But it can be tiresome, like I said… overwhelming… exhausting...

So, I wonder – and worry sometimes – that you might leave here feeling tired … or like there’s always more – or too much – to do … or like you, or we, will never be able to do enough or to get it right or to meet the many needs of this broken world.

In other words, our spiritual lives can feel and be a lot like Martha – racing around, distracted, worried, busying ourselves with everything there is to do and pointing fingers at anyone and everyone who’s not playing along or helping out or doing their part.

So this morning, I feel like the Marys – Mary Oliver and Mary, from Bethany – and Jesus, too, might be telling me to sit down and shut up.

“It is a serious thing just to be alive on this fresh morning in this broken world.”

It is a serious thing – and it’s enough – just to be alive on this fresh morning in this broken world. And to acknowledge the gift of that.

Just sit down, shut up, and be still. Just be here and be quiet. Just hear these words. Just take this sacrament. Just listen to God’s promise and hope. Just accept this forgiveness, receive this mercy, and relish this grace, in all of its glory.

And just know that God is God – even and especially of the broken parts. And trust that God’s promise to redeem it all is a sure, certain, serious thing – for your sake, for mine, and for the sake of the world.

Amen