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Questions can be tricky things.
You have to listen carefully to the question, in order to answer
appropriately. I recently read a story in the AhHA!
Preaching resource about a little girl and
her daddy who were out taking a walk. There was a large stone
in the road, and the little girl wondered aloud whether she could
move it. Her father assured her that if she used all her strength,
she could move the stone. After shoving and pushing and pulling,
the stone had not moved. "Daddy,
you were wrong!" complained the little girl. "I can't
move the stone." "Well," said her Daddy, "You didn't
use all your strength yet. You didn't ask for my help."
There's a real skill in asking good questions — and
sometimes, in answering them. Some people seem to do it naturally,
and some don't. At certain ages, it seems that the only
words to come from a child's mouth are questions — "Why?" "Why
not?" "When will we get there?" "Mine" — although
that one is usually a statement/demand more than a question.
The disciples asked Jesus many questions — "Show
us the Father," "Save me!" or "Lord,
where are you going?" In Luke's telling, the question
that led to Jesus teaching the disciples how to pray was "Lord,
teach us to pray, as John taught his disciples."
They had seen the effect of prayer in the way Jesus lived his
life. They had seen the difference, experienced the difference,
in Jesus before prayer and after prayer, after withdrawing for
time alone with God apart from the hustle and bustle of teaching,
preaching, and healing. They had even, perhaps, felt abandoned
as Jesus withdrew even from them, leaving them to fend for themselves
while he went off to feed his soul, to pour our his own questions
and concerns and cares, and to listen for the reassuring response
of the one he called ABBA, Daddy, Father.
I know a woman like that. The Rev. Mary Wright Gillespie was
my mentor while I was in seminary. Mary believed firmly in the
power of prayer. She spent time in prayer regularly, and I never
attended a meeting where she was in charge that did not both
begin and end with prayer — and it was never a routine,
quick-let's get this over-with prayer, either. Prayer had
power for her, and her example helped me to experience that power
as well.
It's not that I hadn't prayed before. It's
not that I didn't know and expect that God would interact
with me in prayer. It's just that there was Mary, a woman
of God, showing me much more by her example than her words that
prayer was important in her personal spiritual life. It made
a difference for her, and I wanted that difference in my own
life.
The prayer that Jesus taught the disciples in response to their
plea is one that we offer to God each week in our corporate worship.
Some people also use the prayer in their daily devotions. Like
other passages of Scripture, it is only too easy for the words
we use routinely to become — well — routine. And
this prayer has too much power to allow it to be robbed in that
way. That's why today I want us to look, briefly, at each
of the parts of this oh-so-familiar and yet always-new gift.
FATHER — the footnote in the NRSV shows that other authorities
read here "Our Father". That is the familiar language,
the way we are used to opening this prayer. OUR father, not only
mine, and yet also mine. OUR father — we who are the children
of God have been given permission, instruction, orders even,
to address the Creator of the universe in the most intimate of
terms — OUR father. The word that Jesus uses, here and
some other places but not always, is ABBA — Daddy is our
best equivalent. The term of endearment learned by very young
children, a term that carries with it trust, and confidence.
And so we pray — OUR FATHER.
"who art in heaven." This intimate, loving Father is
also the one who resides in heaven, who is separate from the
murky dirty details of our lives, who has designed the world
for love and grace and peace. Wherever heaven is, that's
where God is. And wherever God is, that's where you will
find both God's people, and the true kingdom of joy.
"Hallowed be thy name" — to hallow something,
someone, is to make it holy. God's name is holy without our action,
of course, but God has invited us into a relationship that is
reciprocal, that involves give and take. We call God holy because
God has invited us to recognize the power and might of the one
who loves us enough to come into the world to save us, to redeem
us from the power of evil and sin in our lives.
"Thy kingdom come, thy will be done." — Not
what we want, for we prove over and again that what we want is
not what is best — what we want, indeed, is often something
that is not good for us, that adds pounds to our frames and anguish
to our souls and the lives of those around us. Even when we TRY
to want what is good, we don't have the same perspective
as does God — we don't know what is truly good. And
so we pray, God, please, I want your will, your kingdom, your
desires, for me and for those I love and for those that nobody
loves. We pray as did Jesus in the garden — nonetheless,
Father, your will be done.
"Give us each day our daily bread." — There
are parts of the world, and probably people in our town, where
people still have enough food available to them for only a single
day. Either they don't have the money for more, or they don't
have a way to keep it safe and fresh, or there isn't enough
to go around beyond a single day at a time. What is "bread" differs
in our world — and in this era of "Atkins" low-carb
and other diets — bread is the staple of life, whether
it be a loaf of bread or rice or bananas — bread is the
food that provides the necessary calories and nutrition for life.
We ask God to give us what we need for the day at hand — and
as Jay and I prepare for the move to Colorado, I have become
aware of just how much food is in our house. We had thought that
Jay would be remaining here for some time after my departure,
and so I had not been conscious of using up what we had on hand.
Now I am astonished to discover that we could probably eat for
a month from the shelves of the pantry and the contents of the
freezer — and we leave Illinois in twelve days! This part
of the prayer is intended to remind each of us to trust God that
there will be enough for tomorrow, for us and for all of God's
people. Such trust will free us from the need to store up for
ourselves that which is needed to feed others, today.
The next clause is rendered in various ways. The ecumenical
version is "And forgive us our sins, as we forgive those
who sin against us." The traditional version, which is
what we normally use, puts it "forgive us our debts, as
we forgive our debtors — or as Luke puts it, "And
forgive us our sins, for we ourselves forgive everyone indebted
to us." The mixing of terms reminds us that our sins have
a COST — to God, to us, and to those around us. We need
to practice forgiving — forgiving those who hurt us, forgiving
ourselves when we realize we have done something wrong, asking
forgiveness of those we have injured, and asking God for forgiveness.
Daily. Remembering that God has forgiven us for the many sins
in our own lives, we in turn are freed and given the courage
to forgive others.
"And do not bring us to the time of trial." Our lives
have trials, of course — some on a daily basis, some on
a more intermittent basis. We face trials, and sometimes it seems
that God has gotten us into situations that have no positive
possibility. This — for Luke final — phrase of the
prayer is not a magic wand to keep us from trouble, but rather
the promise that we will not REMAIN there. The love, the steadfast
care of God, is with us in time of difficulty, and will be with
us when the trouble has passed. We will not be left to stew over-long
in our own juices, and we will never, never be abandoned. It
is not possible. It is not in the nature of God to leave us,
even when we deserve it from the human perspective. We will never
be left alone in our trials, and ultimately God's desire
for good will prevail. The timing may be long, and we may lose
sight of the goal — but God does not, can not, will not.
God knows the plans He has made for each of us, and nothing,
not illness or death, not a fight with a boyfriend or a wife,
not loss of job or investment income, can change those plans.
Those things, and others you can undoubtedly name, can divert
our path, can break our concentration, can take our eyes off
the ultimate goal of becoming more and more like Christ, but
they can not, they will not, change the desire of our God for
a close, intimate, loving relationship with each of us.
Identity theft is a very real problem in our world. I know
that some among our congregation have been the victim of this
crime, some fairly recently. In addition to the inconvenience
of replacing driver's license, credit cards, and other
legal documents, is the very real sense of violation, of having
one's very identity taken away, of having someone else
know things about you that are private, that make you, you. The
loss of a sense of security, of not knowing who might be watching
your every move based on what was in your wallet or your identifying
documents, is an assault that can be more devastating than the
actual theft.
As Christians, we pray the prayer Jesus taught to the disciples
because we have learned it — by heart, by rote, by repetition.
We repeat it on Sunday morning to declare WHO we are. We pray
it on Sunday, and other days, to remind ourselves and anyone
else who cares to listen, to be reminded WHOSE we are. We belong
to one who invites us into intimate conversation, one who has
chosen to give us his name, whose very identity is disclosed
to us so that we can, indeed, learn to be more like Jesus the
Christ, to follow God more nearly, day by day by day by day.
Lord, teach us to pray. May we, like the disciples, be open
to follow the model of Jesus, to spend time with our loving Creator
in prayer. To speak, and to listen. And then to act, bravely,
freely, as those who have been forgiven. Forgiven. Set free.
Welcomed home. Loved. Loved. Always and forever, loved.
Amen. |
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