Lord Jesus, teach us how to pray. Amen.
Lake George from Inspiration Pt. |
My family loves the Adirondack mountains. It is our place for retreat twice a year. We
hike to this place; inspiration point.
It’s not a hard climb, takes 45 minutes to get up there. But the view is awesome. On a beautiful spring day, we can sit up
there for an hour in complete silence. Serenity, beauty, fresh air, Lake
George, peace. It is our semi-annual
high. It energizes us, brings clarity of
thought, reduces stress and anxiety, and gives us time together in God’s
presence. We are free to be. It’s never
hard to go there, always hard to leave. I often say I could live there. Retire there one day. Buy a cabin. Sit on the porch. It’s a
dream. If you have a place like this,
you know what I mean. If you don’t, I recommend
you find one.
One of the recurring themes in Luke’s story about
Jesus and his disciples is the theme of prayer.
It is mentioned more than in the other gospels. In major scenes, Jesus prays: At his baptism. Before he chooses the 12 disciples, on the
mountain, and on the cross. Jesus
prays. He tells a parable, only found in
Luke’s story, about a friend who knocks on a friends’ door at midnight, seeking
some bread so that he might offer food to a guest who has come to his
house. Prayer, he says, is like asking a
friend, at an inopportune time, to give you a gift so that you might give that
gift to someone else. Prayer is like
obtaining food for someone else. Prayer
is like being in between someone who has what someone else needs. Prayer is a point of access. Prayer is advocacy, speaking up for someone
else, being their voice. Prayer is
inconvenient, too. It is the midnight
cry in a crisis moment. It is the “sorry
to have to bother you with this, but…”
Prayer is, “I need your help, so that I can help someone else.” It’s knowing where to turn in a moment of
need. It’s knocking on the door. Prayer is not relaxing meditation apart from
the world on inspiration point. It is an
action verb. It is movement. It is an intervention, a confrontation.
Many of us pray.
In times of trouble, need, confusion, fear, grief. We pray for help. And in times of joy, celebration, and
blessing we pray in thanksgiving. I
suspect we have been taught to pray at meals, maybe at bedtime, less likely in
the morning. Maybe you have a few
prayers memorized. Maybe you fold your
hands and bow your head and kneel at your bedside. Maybe you pray out loud, alone in your car. Maybe you just don’t pray. If God is God, doesn’t God already know what
I’m going to say, what I’m thinking?
What’s the point? Prayer can seem
passive, verbal, cerebral—in my head. Prayer is sort of nice, but not messy or
dangerous. We don’t think of prayer as risk.
We think of it as duty or comfort.
Lent begins Wednesday. So, it’s Confession time. I’m
not sure about prayer in my own life. I don’t know if I pray enough. I keep
trying. Prayer sometimes feels more like
a chore or duty and something I skip or forget to do. I rarely know for certain
that a prayer I prayed is answered. I
don’t even try to make those connections. I have been a student of prayer for a
long time. I’ve read about prayer, talked and taught about prayer, practiced
various kinds of praying. I’m not sure I
understand it much better than when I was a child, though. Is it effective? If not, is that a reflection
on me or God? I’m still learning. Sometimes prayer has been
intimate and profound, spiritually energizing, exciting. I have prayed in
groups, with a partner, on behalf of one person or many people. I have prayed in front of large crowds and in
a small, dark, silent space. Pastors are invited to and expected to pray. But I don’t always have the words.