October 20, 2019 Luke 18:1-8 Genesis 32:22-31 2 Timothy 3:14-4:5
The first time my
son said “daddy” he and I were coming home from the farmer’s market and my
husband opened the door to welcome us back home and Sterling, who was about 10
months old, said, “Daddy!” It was a
joyous moment, that we’d been anticipating since before he was born. For such a long time the baby communicates
with snorts and giggles and cries and funny facial expression we all try to
interpret the way we like. But one day, he
gets language and communication is taken to a whole new level.
Prayer is
communication with God. It might or
might not involve words, but when we communicate with God our thanks, our
dreams, our desires, our hopes, and our fears, I have to think that God feels
like when a parent is addressed by their child for the first time. Now at our house, the communication is more
like this, “Mom! Mom! Mom!” or “Dad! Dad! Dad!”
Everything is so urgent. But I
treasure this time because my son wants to communicate with me and his
dad. He wants to share about what’s
important to him. He wants to have a
conversation. And frankly I am aware the
time will come when he keeps things more to himself. I hope to keep the
communication open as long as possible.
Prayer is
communication with God. It is
listening. It is sharing. It is building a relationship. It is showing up every day to exchange ideas
and hold each other accountable. Like
any other relationship it takes intentionality and persistence. Jesus is telling the disciples, his
followers, about their need to pray.
Prayer isn’t just important, it’s a necessity. And not a necessity to get God to listen to
us. I believe God knows what’s going on
with us and cares about it whether we pray or not. But prayer is a necessity for us, to help us
take a look at ourselves and focus on God.
Sometimes I pray and I think, “Do I hear what I’m even saying? Is that
really what’s best in this situation?
How can I be open to other ways of seeing this? What is the bigger picture from God’s point
of view?” Prayer makes us take a look at
what’s really going on, past our assumptions and self-righteousness and open
ourselves to new insights. Prayer makes
us look at our expectations and ask ourselves—is this realistic? What more is God asking of me in this
situation? And prayer encourages
us. It keeps us going when the odds are
against us or it seems impossible. I
think Prayer also helps us tell our story—why my particular need or my
neighbor’s need is important, how did I get to this point, what are the
possible outcomes, and what does God have to do with it? What might God see here that I don’t
see? What gives me the strength and
determination to go on, despite all that I’ve faced? And when we pray for
someone else, especially if we let them know we are praying for them, we can
hear their story of how they got to this point, what is most important to that
person, what gives them strength, and what is God asking of them. When we can ask some of these questions
without judging or presuming an answer, we can invite our neighbor into a
deeper conversation with us and God about faith.
Some have said
that the story of Jacob wrestling with God is one of prayer. Do your prayers sometimes feel like a
wrestling match? It’s ok if they do,
because Jacob wrestled with God. He was
in turmoil because he was about to meet his brother Esau on the other side of
the river. He hadn’t seen him in years. The two were estranged partly because Jacob
had deceived his brother and stolen his birthright. Now the two were about to meet. Jacob sends his wives and children across the
river ahead of him to his brother and waits behind on this night
wrestling. He’s wrestling with what he
did to his brother. He wrestles with the
consequences of what he’s done and what kind of reception he should expect from
a brother he’s wronged. And he’s
wrestling with God, who he is accountable to for his actions. He wrestles and he comes away scarred. He wrestles and he comes away with a new
name, a new chance. And sure enough when
he meets his brother across the river, he finds love, forgiveness, and new
relationship, something that he doesn’t deserve. He wrestles with God and his brother and he
finds new life.
There a couple of
things to clarify in this Gospel. One is
the word, “justice,” that the widow is seeking.
When we hear it, we might think of the justice system and think of
punishment. But here the word justice
has to do with a reorientation of life toward equity for all people. When justice is achieved, people are heard,
they have what they need, no one is cheating them or using their power to hurt
them. This woman believes she is wronged, and she wants it corrected, not just
for her at this moment, but going forward for all people, to make it right and
to ensure that it doesn’t happen to anyone again.
Luke’s audience
would probably be thinking of a specific example of justice they are
seeking. They are thinking of the
suffering Christians. They were being
oppressed—dragged out and locked up for questioning, banished from their
families, persecuted. The persecuted
Christians are the one crying out for help.
And they are asking God to grant them justice. Turn this world around God. And that’s part of the end of the parable
because it seemed like it was taking a long time for God to set things
right. Yet here it seems to be arguing
that God does not delay long in helping them.
In response to the
persecution of the church and all theirs suffering, Jesus tells this
parable. God is not like this judge, but
if this unjust judge can get it right because he’s sick of dealing with this
woman, how much more will God, who loves us and is just and caring. This judge couldn’t be more different than
God. This judge has a lot of power over
other people, however, this judge is isolated and alone. He is so alone that he’s talking to
himself. “Listen, me, although I
couldn’t care less, still I’m sick of this, so I’m going to get this woman off
my back by granting her request.” He,
literally, has no one he is relationship with that he can talk this over with. He
has no one to relate to.
That’s the
complete opposite of God. God wants to
be in relationship with us. God is
constantly seeking us out and listening to our pleas. Even when we’re silly, or selfish or sinful
or argumentative, still God wants to hear it.
Even when we fight God, or wrestle with God, like Jacob, God can take
it. God wants to know us, and one of the
best ways for God to know us through prayer—communication, relationship. It’s the same with our kids, right, or our
siblings, or nieces and nephews. They
may be grouchy or hurting or annoying, but we love them and we want to hear
from them, we want to be in communication with them and know how they are
doing, for the most part.
I think sometimes
we agonize about whether our prayer is worthy of God’s attention, or how to
word things. Should we be specific and
ask for certain outcomes or should we simply say, “Thy will be done!” We shouldn’t let our uncertainty about getting
it right stop us. We don’t have to have
the right prayer or the right way of saying it.
We don’t even have to use words. God
can decide what to do with that prayer, and can still affect us, will still
love us however our imperfect communication comes out. Don’t let your fears and insecurities stop
you and even if its been a long time and really awkward, pray. God’s been there the whole time. This parable is not saying that we are
bothering God with our prayers. It is
just saying that we can persist in prayer, without giving up even if it seems
like nothing is changing, even when you hear a big “no” from the world and you
wonder if God is also saying no. That’s
what faith is. It is hanging on to the
hope we have in Jesus Christ. It isn’t
hanging on to the hope that we’ll get everything we want or that things will go
our way, it is clinging to the promise that God is always in relationship with
us, giving us love and new life, and always listening and present.
Another part I’d
like to point out about this parable is that prayer takes action. This woman could have sat home and prayed and
hoped that things would change. Instead
she got up day after day and went to a place where she was despised to plead
her case before people who didn’t care about her. She left the house and she went and spoke
truth in the halls of power. Our faith
must be accompanied by action. Our
prayers must be active. They must make
us ask, why is this unjust thing happening in the first place and how can we
get at the source of the problem. We
can’t just put bandaids on people and patch their wounds. We need to ask, why are they getting wounded
in the first place? We need to go to the
source of the injustice and confront it.
Why are these people hungry in the first place and how do I participate
in a system that oppresses hungry people and keeps food out of the mouths of
little children? How can I use my gifts
that God has given me, my voice, my influence, to state the truth—that this is
not how God would want this world to be ordered, where widows and orphans
suffer—and to articulate a vision that we read about in Revelation that we can
all work toward where every tear will be dried and every belly have enough to
eat and new, abundant life will come to all who have been oppressed and
neglected. How do we work together
toward that vision, locally, to make changes that bring justice and hope?
My final thought
is that maybe Jesus is the widow. He keeps coming to us again and again,
pleading his case, trying to build relationship, urging us toward justice. We’re distracted, we’re talking to ourselves,
we’re focused on other things. But if
you’ve tried to ignore Jesus, or the Holy Spirit, you know how persistent they
can be. Even when we rejected him and
killed him for seeking justice for people we’d rather ignore, Jesus still
claims us as his own and gives us new life, forgiveness, and hope. So may Jesus pester with you all with love
and grace and the truth, and because his persistence may you find relationship
and hope and justice.
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