September 15, 2024
Luke 11:2-4
Prayer is a funny thing. We know about prayer. We talk about prayer. Sometimes we ask for prayer, but do we understand exactly how prayer works? Do we pray enough? Do any of us spend time considering how to strengthen our prayer lives? As Rev. Dr. David Lose says, “Prayer is not only at the heart of the Christian life, it is also at the heart of a lot of Christian frustrations, misunderstanding, and even pain.”[1]
How are we supposed to pray? On our knees with folded hands or is it okay to pray after you get into bed but before you fall asleep? How does God answer prayer? Are the selfish ones such as “Please help LSU beat South Carolina!” ignored because God understands how ridiculous it is that we pay people millions of dollars to hit and throw balls?
Why do sincere prayers go unanswered? Is it possible to “pray without ceasing” as Thessalonians instructs? How guilty should we feel if our prayer life is spotty? And when we do pray, what do we say?
We bring these questions and more with us as we encounter this morning’s text from Luke and hear this slightly different version of Jesus’ teaching the disciples how to pray. Matthew’s version of these verses is more familiar and less abrupt. Still, I think this version, being less familiar gets our attention in a way that’s necessary with this most familiar of prayers.
As Rev. Amos Jerman Disasa, Senior Pastor of First Presbyterian Church of Dallas says so beautifully, the Lord’s Prayer, “Jesus’ prayer thumps along to the beating of our heart”[2] it is so familiar.
But lest we get complacent in our familiarity with Jesus’ words, let’s spend this morning with the catechetical elements of our faith. “Catechetical” comes from the Greek word κατήχησις/catechesis which means "instruction by word of mouth" and is, at its most basic, religious education. In the early church people in the conversion process were called “catechumen” prior to baptism, and I’m using the description “catechetical” to describe this elemental part of Christianity we share with believers around the world.
Because as Baptists we have more in common with Mennonites, Amish, Anabaptists, and Quakers than we do with the mainline Protestant denominations who are our closer physical neighbors and in whose traditions many of you grew up. I’m specifically thinking about Lutherans, Presbyterians, Episcopalians, and Methodists to say nothing of how much we differ from our Catholic sisters and brothers!
As Baptists, it’s often easier to define ourselves by how we’re different. By what are sometimes called “Baptist Distinctives,” and what church historian Walter Shurden calls the “Four Fragile Freedoms.”
I’ve talked about these before but as a refresher, they are: Bible Freedom (the ability of individuals to read and interpret scripture with the guidance of the Holy Spirit), Church Freedom (the freedom to determine membership, leadership, doctrine, and practice. Otherwise known as the autonomy of the local church), Religious Freedom (freedom of religion, freedom for religion, and freedom from religion) is what Shurden calls “Soul Freedom.”[3]
This is the conviction that we’re each accountable to God without the necessity of creeds or the control of clergy or government. We often broadly refer to this concept as “The Priesthood of All Believers” and on a practical level, it is why those of us who grew up Baptist would struggle if you asked us to recite The Apostles Creed. Lord help us if you asked for the Nicene Creed!
My point with this dive into Baptist “doctrine” is that given our commitment to being non-creedal we miss out on catechetical faith practices that unite millions of other Christians. Don’t get me wrong, I am a Baptist to my core and believe in being non-creedal, but it also strikes me as timely to find places of connection with other Christians. To find common ground with folks who believe differently than we do on other faith fundamentals. And it certainly can’t hurt us in this place of connection and commonality to spend time talking about prayer as the world spins chaotic around us.
Coming right after Luke’s telling of Jesus’ visit with Mary and Martha, Luke 11 begins with Jesus in prayer. “Luke, more than any other evangelist, stresses the importance of prayer in Jesus’ life” and “given the disciples exposure to Jesus’ practice, and their awareness that John...taught his disciples to pray, it’s only natural that they would ask him for instruction.”[4]
In the first half of verse 2, which is our focus this morning, “Jesus invites us to address the Holy One of Israel as pater, ‘Father.’”
“Father.” After spending three weeks exploring the gender of God, I hope that word sounds a little different for you now. Even if it doesn’t niggle at you like it does me, I hope this masculine God language at least catches your attention. Certainly, for those for whom “Father” conjures less than positive memories this beginning might be difficult, but it’s worthwhile to keep in mind that this word, while impossible to make completely asexual,[5] is less about gender and more about relationships.
First, we should hear this word coming from Jesus’ mouth and reaching “back to Gabriel’s promise to Mary about her son.”[6] He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David, says the angel. Commentator Richard B. Vinson continues this line of thinking when he points out,
“Jesus is ‘Son of God’ by virtue of his birth...at twelve, he knew he must be about his Father’s affairs...the demons have been shouting, ‘You are the Son of God!’”[7] at him throughout Luke’s gospel, “and he has claimed to have a son’s unique knowledge of the Father...it is therefore a powerful thing for Jesus to teach his disciples to pray to God as he does. When we say ‘Father,’ do we in fact aspire to mean what Jesus meant when he said it, to reach to the level of his devotion to God?”[8]
Second, it’s helpful to understand that this prayer is “thoroughly Jewish in character”[9] with a “doxology followed by petition”[10] and understand it as a continuation of Israel’s prayer life, particularly from the Psalms. As you know, the Psalms are a collection of songs and prayers and in them, Israel explores their relationship with God both through a range of emotions and a variety of names and descriptions for the Eternal. From naming God, “Oh My Strength” (Psalm 22:19), and “The Lord Our Maker” (Psalm 95:6) to describing God as “a very present help in trouble” (Psalm 46:1) and “The strength of my heart and my portion forever” (Psalm 73:26), the Psalms describe God on the basis of relationship. On connection.
So, despite the gendered language, that’s what Jesus is doing here in Luke. For the “Father,” God we encounter responds, as commentator Meda Stamper says so well, “to prayers with a goodness and faithfulness incomparably greater than that of earthly parents and wants to give more than anyone could ask or imagine: the Spirit and the kingdom.”[11] Much like the father of the Prodigal Son, the “Father” Jesus addresses “loves with a mercy beyond human reasonableness and fairness.” The God Jesus instructs us to pray to “loves us relentlessly”[12] and “we are pushing against an open door when we pray because, in a sense, we are already inside, members of the holy family ourselves,”[13] siblings with Jesus who have the joy of experiencing the same Spirit and the same love from God.[14]
In her book Traveling Mercies writer Anne Lamott says that the two best prayers are, “Help me, help me, help me” and “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”[15] A few years later Anne adds a third prayer to her rotation with her book Help, Thanks, Wow. In this book, Anne writes the following,
“We can say anything to God. It’s all prayer. Prayer can be motion and stillness and energy - all at the same time...Prayer is taking a chance that against all odds and past history, we are loved and chosen, and do not have to get it together before we show up. The opposite may be true: We may not be able to get it together until after we show up in such a miserable shape...God can handle honesty, and prayer begins an honest conversation...”[16]
I think Jesus, in teaching his disciples then and now how to pray, could get on board with Anne’s Help, Thanks, Wow approach. After all, in these short verses Jesus isn’t teaching us how to pray so that we might get something from God. No, Jesus is inviting us into a relationship with the Eternal. He is giving us a way to approach the God “whose name is too holy to speak”[17] and whose countenance cannot be seen by human eyes and survived.
This prayer is our starting point. A way to begin a conversation with God that encompasses all the things we’re feeling and hoping. This prayer is our touchstone. the words we say when we don’t know what else to say, and the syllables we speak into being over and over and over again knowing that whatever else follows the relationship we have with God is grounded in a love beyond words.
I do not have explanations for the ins and outs of prayer. I cannot tell you why God answers some prayers and not others. What I can tell you is what you already know: no matter when and how you pray, the vital thing is that you have a conversation with God. The vital thing is that we, as a community, have a conversation with God.
Whether it’s Anne Lamott’s simple, “help me, help me, help me,” Luke’s more abrupt version of the Lord’s Prayer, or the longer version from Matthew, let’s make the effort to speak to God this week. To take the small but active step of entering into our relationship with the Eternal. Let’s lift our hearts and voices to God for ourselves, our church, our community, our country, our world.
Lord knows this is a time to pray without ceasing.
[1] David Lose, “Commentary on Luke 11:1-13,” from Working Preacher, https://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=719
[2] Amos Herman Disasa, “Pastor Perspective: Matthew 6:7-15,” from Feasting on the Gospels, Matthew, Volume 1, Chapters 1-13, pg. 124.
[3] Walter B. Shurden, The Baptist Identity: Four Fragile Freedoms, 1993.
[4] Lose, ibid.
[5] Richard B. Vinson, “Luke,” Smyth and Helwys commentary series, pg. 368.
[6] Ibid.
[7] Ibid.
[8] Ibid. Emphasis mine throughout this quotation.
[9] Lose, ibid.
[10] Ibid.
[11] Meda Stamper, “Commentary on Luke 11:2-4,” from Working Preacher, https://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=2919
[12] Ibid.
[13] Ibid.
[14] Ibid.
[15] Anne Lamott, Traveling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith, 1999, pg. 82.
[16] Anne Lamont, Help Thanks Wow: The Three Essential Prayers, 2012, pgs. 84-85.
[17] Lose, ibid.
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