Simple prayer (beginning right where we are) -- OMEGA

The secret to praying well is to know that God is ___ (praiseworthy). As Christians we pray in Jesus’ name because He’s our great High ___ (priest). Well done. Now that we’ve looked at why we pray and how we pray we can turn our attention to what we pray, or perhaps to be more accurate, where we start. And I’d like to begin talk with a quote by Richard Foster.


“Today the heart of God is an open wound of love. He aches over our distance and preoccupation. He mourns that we do not draw near to him. He grieves that we have forgotten him. He weeps over our obsession with muchness and manyness. He longs for our presence.” (Prayer, pg. 7)


That’s a pretty radical thing to say – that God longs for our presence. Shouldn’t it be the other way around? Doesn’t Psalm 42 say, “As the deep longs for the water brooks so my soul longs for you, O God?” And of course the answer is yes. The author of Psalm 42 understands that we all long for the living water that only God can give, even if we search for that water in empty wells, like achievement and sex and recognition and money and power and reputation. In fact, I’d say that behind every sin is a longing for God. Augustine long ago noted, “our souls are restless O Lord until they rest in thee.” But, according to Foster and according to the Bible, God also longs for us. His soul is restless until we rest in Him.


And because God longs for us, prayer is an invitation – an invitation by God to come back home. Like the prodigal son we’ve left home and made a mess of our lives but our Father is good and He invites us back to the feast. And that’s why prayer, above all else, is an ongoing intimate love relationship. It’s about learning to long for God and about knowing that He longs for us. And so to be effective pray-ers, we need to learn how to love. Real prayer isn’t about rolling up our sleeves and just resolving to do it. Real prayer is about falling in love.


But where do we begin? Everyone’s got their theory, their technique, their approach to prayer. And so where are we supposed to begin?


Well, a lot of us never learn to pray because we think we have to get our lives in order before we can start praying – that having it all together is a prerequisite to prayer. In other words, first we fine-tune our lives or learn the different prayer techniques or kick our addictive behavior and then we can start to pray. But that’s wrong.


You see prayer isn’t like calculus or physics and it’s not something we master. It’s something that masters us. When it comes to prayer we’ll never be competent and we’ll never be in control. After all, we’re children and children aren’t in control of anything.


The truth is that in prayer each one of us brings mixed motives to God. We’re full of love and anger, goodness and selfishness, good motives and bad. And I know this may come as a surprise, but it’s not our job to sort all that out. In fact God forbids us to even try because (1) we’re not smart enough and because (2) God’s big enough and gracious enough to take us as we are. We don’t have to be smart or pure or full of faith to pray. That’s why there’s something called grace. And as Christians we’re not just saved by grace. We live by grace and we pray by grace.


And so once again, where do we begin? Well, all prayer begins with the most basic and primary form of prayer there is, which is often called “simple prayer.” Simple prayer is about bringing ourselves before God “as is” – our wants, our desires, our fears, our frustrations. Like a child sitting on Santa’s lap we open our hearts and tell God what we’re feeling. We make known our requests. Without pretension or forethought we simply share our concerns.


We pray for good weather. For help with our test. If we’re lonely we pray for friends. We tell God how frustrated we are with our roommate and how excited we are about our date Friday night. In a very real sense, we are the focus of simple prayer – our needs, our wants, our concerns. Simple prayer is mostly about us.


Now I know what you’re thinking, “that sounds selfish. I thought Christianity was about losing our lives for others – not about treating God like Santa Claus.” And of course you’re right. There’s no doubt a lot of pride and vanity and egocentricity that comes with simple prayer, but I want to ask you this. What alternative do we have?


Just for fun, suppose we try filtering our prayers. Let’s say we work really hard to sort out what’s worth bringing to God and what’s not. Let me ask you this. Does a child do that? And if we do take matters into our own hands and try filtering out what’s worth bringing to God and what’s not, do we really believe in grace? And on top of that, do we really think God doesn’t know what we’re up to, and could God really be pleased that we find Him so unapproachable and that our coming before Him has to be so planned?



To filter our prayers; to only pray about those things we think God wants to hear; to pray for world peace when all we care about is our toothache; this doesn’t come from a high view of God. It comes from a low view of God. It’s fake humility. You see God is perfectly capable of handling our anger and frustration and disappointment and selfishness. As C.S. Lewis once noted, prayer is about laying before God what is actually in our heart. Not what we think ought to be in our heart. Simple prayer, if nothing else, is honest. And that’s why we have to begin with simple prayer. Because prayer is about falling in love, it’s about a growing into a personal relationship. And without honesty a relationship isn’t possible.


Now of course God wants his children to grow up. It’s really cute when a three-year-old girl asks her dad for a pony but it’s really weird when a 33-year-old woman asks her dad for a pony. And so yes – as we grow in grace we’ll move beyond simple prayer. That being said, the only way to move beyond simple prayer is to go through simple prayer, not make a detour around it. We’re born into this world as infants, and we’re born again into God’s world as infants. And even as we grow up, we’ll never leave simple prayer behind completely because genuine prayer is about conversing with God about the real condition of our heart.


And so we shouldn’t be surprised to find that simple prayer is the most common form of prayer in the Bible. For example, consider Moses’ prayer to God when the Israelites rebel in the wilderness. Here’s a paraphrase of Numbers 11. “God, why’d you burden me with these losers? Did I give birth to them? Then why are you asking me to lug them around like a mother nursing her baby?” The Bible describes Moses as the most humble man that ever lived and yet here he is laying before God his anger, his sarcasm, and his frustration. That’s simple prayer. Another example. The prophet Elisha goes bald and some kids make fun of him. As II Kings tells us, Elisha prays for bears to come eat them. That’s simple prayer. The author of Psalm 137 finds himself taunted by his Babylonian captors. How does he respond? By praying for the death of their children. That’s simple prayer – bringing to God what’s actually in us, even if it’s ugly. Not what we think ought to be in us.


Now with that in mind let’s look at Jesus’ teaching on prayer in the Sermon on the Mount.


Matthew 6 & 7 (selected verses)


And whenever you pray, do not be like the hypocrites; for they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, so that they may be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But whenever you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you. Your Father knows what you need before you even ask Him. Therefore Ask, and it will be given to you; 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 everyone who knocks, the door will be opened. Is there anyone among you who, if your child asks for bread, will give a stone? Or if the child asks for a fish, will give a snake? If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good things to those who ask him!

There’s a lot of wisdom here for getting started with prayer. First, don’t be a hypocrite, a word meaning “play-actor.” In other words, don’t act or put on a show. Don’t ask God for world peace when all you care about is your tooth. Second, don’t pray to be seen. If prayer is our tool for becoming more popular and admired by others then it isn’t prayer. Third, God knows what we need before we even ask Him. That’s encouraging. No one’s more in tune with our wants and needs than God. Fourth, God tells us to ask anyway. Yes He knows but God wants to be asked. Fifth, even though we’re evil God is still good and God’s desire is to give his children good things.

Now you might be wondering. If God already knows our needs before we ask then why on earth do we have to ask? In other words, why doesn’t God just give us what we need? Well, it goes back to our first “p” from two weeks ago. The God we pray to is personal and petition, or asking, is at the heart of all personal relationships. At the heart of prayer is “the request” – addressing God as our Father and asking Him to do something for us. And of course the request works both ways – as prayer becomes more natural we’ll learn to hear God when He’s asking us to do something for Him, and He will. But the God we pray to is personal, and because of that God wants to be asked.


And so back to our question – when it comes to prayer where do we begin? The answer is simple – we begin right where we are. We speak to God about what concerns us – our families, our classes, our friends, our dreams, our disappointments. I know it sounds trivial but this is the most profound truth you’ll ever hear about God. We worship a God that freely chooses to enter our world, our reality. And so if your reality right now is a toothache – that’s the only reality God wants to enter.


Do you remember the story of Moses and the burning bush? Moses is going about his daily life as a shepherd in Midian and God comes to Moses and says, “Moses, take off your shoes.” God wants Moses to know that the world he inhabits is holy. The scandal of Christianity is that God enters our world and that as we go about our life burning bushes are everywhere. Think about it. When God entered our world He chose a small, smelly stable. His mom was an unwed teenage girl and the first people to admire him was a group of shady shepherds. And so don’t think that your life is too ordinary for God or that He’s just not interested in you. That’s not being humble. From God’s perspective, it’s just being rude.


And so when it comes to prayer, God wants us to begin right where we are – with simple prayer. And so for those of you eager to get started I’ll leave you with four pieces of advice.


1. Remember that prayer is first and foremost an ongoing and growing love relationship with God the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. And because of that no one has any advantage. The bruised and the broken can enter simple prayer just as freely as the wealthy and the wise. The only thing we need to get started is desire.


2. When you begin to take prayer seriously don’t get discouraged by how bad you are, or at how difficult you find prayer to be. Our hunger for God is actually where prayer begins. In other words, wanting to pray is the beginning of prayer. The very desire to pray is a gift of the Spirit and in time our desire will lead to practice and that practice will then increase our desire. And so don’t get discouraged.


3. Don’t try praying too hard. There is a natural progression in the spiritual life. We don’t take occasion joggers and expect them to run a marathon. In the same way we don’t take spiritual children and expect them to pray for hours at a time. In other words, don’t be spiritually greedy. If prayer isn’t a fixed habit for you instead of starting with 30 minutes a day start with 3. Pour all your energy into those three minutes and then tell God you need a break. Trust me, He’ll understand.


4. Learn to pray even when you’re sinning. If you struggle with anger or lust or greed or ambition don’t isolate these things from your prayer life or take a break from prayer until you beat them. Instead, talk to God about them. It warms God’s heart that we trust Him enough to bring our mess to Him in prayer. And so pray, even as you sin.



If we’re going to learn to pray we have to start where we are. At first, we will be the center and the subject of our prayers. But then in God’s time and in God’s way our hearts will begin to change. We’ll stop thinking of God as a part of our life because we’ll come to see that we are a part of His.


“The heart of God is an open wound of love.” As the deep longs for the water brooks so God’s soul longs for us. We don’t have to clean up before we go back home. We just need to go back home and trust God to clean us up.

I am the Worst

"Indeed, I have been wicked from my birth, a sinner from my mother's womb." – Psalm 51

"I am grateful to Christ Jesus our Lord, who has strengthened me, because he judged me faithful and appointed me to his service, even though I was formerly a blasphemer, a persecutor, and a man of violence. But I received mercy because I had acted ignorantly in unbelief, and the grace of our Lord overflowed for me with the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus. The saying is sure and worthy of full acceptance, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners-- of whom I am the foremost. But for that very reason I received mercy, so that in me, as the foremost, Jesus Christ might display the utmost patience, making me an example to those who would come to believe in him for eternal life. To the King of the ages, immortal, invisible, the only God, be honor and glory forever and ever. Amen." – 1 Tim

"All the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to Jesus. And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, "This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them." So he told them this parable: "Which one of you, having a hundred sheep and losing one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the one that is lost until he finds it? When he has found it, he lays it on his shoulders and rejoices. And when he comes home, he calls together his friends and neighbors, saying to them, `Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost.' Just so, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance." – Luke 15



The following is written on the wall of the Epoch Coffee House men’s room. “Sailors shouldn’t go to church. They should go to Hell where it’s much more comfortable.” Apparently Anonymous – the guy’s name that wrote it – doesn’t think the church does a good job of welcoming certain people in our society. The church, he assumes, is for good people, the best people. But if you’re a sailor or a sinner – well, you can just go to Hell. It’s a whole lot better than going to church.


I just read an online article entitled, “Reasons Why People Quit Church.” At the top of the list was a sense, a feeling of not being good enough. According to the article, “The feeling of … judgment lies heavy upon churchgoers. If God ever needs help on judgment day, He need not go any further than the nearest church.” In other words, Pharisees and Scribes are still found in our pews grumbling. And so here’s my question. Who’s the church for? Good people? The best people? Or, is tonight’s Gospel true – is there more joy in heaven when the worst sinner repents than over ninety-nine people who know they’re the best? Who belongs in church? People who think they’re the worst? Or, people who think they’re the best? My answer may sound a little strange. People who know that they’re both.


In tonight’s epistle Paul says that Christ came into the world to save sinners. But then he adds something amazing. “Of whom I am the foremost,” a word that really means worst or chief. When it comes to sin, “I am the worst!” Paul says. “I am the chief sinner!” You may be thinking, “isn’t Paul exaggerating just to make a point?” Well, by reading his letters, you know that he isn’t. In 1 Corinthians he calls himself the “least of the apostles.” In Ephesians 3 he calls himself “the very least of the saints.” And notice, Paul doesn’t say I was the foremost sinner. He says I am the chief sinner. Paul is the worst. Just ask him.


Now, the devil’s advocate in you might start to wonder – is this attitude healthy? “Lighten up, Paul. You’re obviously a perfectionist. Go to therapy.” If we think we’re the worst, won’t that lead to low self-esteem? “I can’t be the worst. I thought Hitler was the worst. I’m the worst? I’m not the worst.”


In high school I was really moved by the movie American History X. If you haven’t seen it, it’s about a young neo-Nazi that goes to jail for murder but then has a profound change of heart. But the movie forces you to ask an interesting question – what if I was a raised in a Neo-Nazi family and had Neo-Nazi fiends? Would I be a neo-Nazi? What if I was born in a different country? Would I be a Christian? What if I was born in Paul’s shoes? Would I persecute Christians? Is Paul the only chief sinner? Or, if circumstances were different – could that have been me?


Well, Paul uses this great word to describe himself. He calls himself a man of violence – but the Greek word is hybristes, which means deep-seated spiritual pride. It’s also the root of a word we commonly use – hubris. In other words, Paul says that behind all the violence was this hybristes in his heart – this deep spiritual pride that made him the monster that he was. And according to Jesus, we all have that same hybristes. Each one of our hearts is infected with pride. And so with that in mind, is it possible that we are the worst? Can we claim the title chief sinner?


Well, I can only answer that question for myself, but as a preacher, I am going to point out what our readings say. Psalm 51 says, “I have been wicked from my birth.” This psalm is attributed to David, who was a thief, adulterer, liar and murderer. In other words, this psalm is David’s way of saying, “I am the worst.” In tonight’s Gospel Luke holds the tax collectors up as the heroes. Why? Tax collectors know they are the worst. And I think I’ve covered where Paul stands on the issue. Each one of tonight’s readings has the exact same perspective. “I am the worst.”


Now, I don’t want you to leave here tonight with low self-esteem; there’s a second piece to this puzzle. If we understand the Gospel, knowing we’re the worst will lead us to the good news that in Christ we are the best. Think about this. Paul should have had low self-esteem. Paul killed Christians. I mean, think about this – the 1st century church was small. I imagine at some point Paul ran into Stephen’s mom and was like, “hey, how’s Stephen – haven’t seen him at church,” and then there was an awkward silence because Paul was like, “oh, yea – I stoned him.” Now, I’m kind of joking but think about this. For the rest of Paul’s life he had to work with people whose son, whose brother, whose friend, whose mother he had killed. Why didn’t Paul wrestle with low self-esteem? How did he deal with his conscience?


Well, here’s what Paul says about that. “Because I am the worst I’m the best.” Because I am chief sinner I’m the perfect example for those who believe. In other words, Paul wants his life to be the lens through which we see our own. Because I am the worst, he says, I am the best possible vessel for God’s patience, God’s love, God’s mercy. And of course in tonight’s Gospel what Jesus says is even more shocking. “There is more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine who need no repentance.” How did Paul deal with low self-esteem? Paul knew in his bones the one thing we too often forget. The Gospel isn’t about us. It’s about God. And because of who God is, God delights in taking the worst and in Christ declaring them the best.


Here’s what I’m trying to say. If you know you’re the worst but don’t quite get that Christ makes you the best – if you’re in constant pain because, spiritually speaking, you don’t measure up – I want you to consider carefully that you may be either proud or ignorant. Perhaps you’re proud – more focused on what you do than on what God did for you. Or you may just be ignorant of the Gospel – the Gospel that says salvation is a gift received through faith; not a right earned through works.


On the other hand, maybe what Paul said doesn’t resonate at all. “I’m not the chief sinner. Yea, I mess up – but the worst? C’mon.” Here’s what I’d say about that. If we don’t think we’re capable of doing what Paul did if the circumstances were different; we’re not just proud and ignorant – we’re naïve and dangerous. There’s only one difference between a Pharisees and a tax collector. One of them knows they’re the worst. You see the irony of Jesus’ parable is that there’s no such thing as a righteous person that doesn’t need to repent! Not knowing we’re the worst will make us Pharisees and Scribes – self-righteous grumblers who look around and see people worse than us. The same hybristes that was in Paul’s heart can be found in our heart, too.


Now, I know this all sounds strange, but God wants us to be humble – to see all people as our equal. But practically speaking, there’s only one way to live life not looking down on people – we have to take our place at the bottom. We have to be willing to name ourselves as the Chief sinner. Nothing will make us more humble than knowing we’re the worst.


But on the other hand, God also wants us to be bold, secure, and joyful. We need to know that we are the best – the Christ stooped down, brought us out of the miry clay, washed us through and through, and placed us in His Father’s presence. And nothing will empower us more than knowing that Jesus has made us the best. We’ll still be humble. But at the same, no one will intimidate us. We who stand in the presence of the King will learn not to cower in the presence of the surfs. You see there’s a strange blend of humility and confidence that only the Gospel can produce. But humility without confidence is shyness, and confidence without humility – that’s just being an arrogant jerk. You and I are the worst. We need to know that. But it’s for that very reason that Christ makes us the best.


In II Corinthians Paul writes the following. “God made him who knew no sin to be sin for us, so that in Him we might become the righteousness of God.” Jesus Christ was the best. He lived a perfect life. No one was less deserving of Jesus’ death than Him, and yet Paul says God made him to be sin. In other words, in Christ God took the absolute best and reduced him to the absolute worst. Why? So that in Him we might become the righteousness of God. So that in Him we – the absolute worst – might be transformed into the absolute best. That’s what the Gospel is. Jesus the Best becoming the worst, so that we – the worst – might become the best in Him. “To the King of Ages, immortal, invisible, the only God, be honor and glory forever and ever. Amen.”

Priestly prayer (in Jesus’ name) -- OMEGA

Last week we discovered the secret of praying well – knowing that the God we pray to is ___ (praiseworthy). That’s right, in Jesus God has done for us what we could not do for ourselves. He’s adopted us into His family, called us His children, and because of that we can call Him Father. Because of Who God is and because of what God’s done, the God we pray to is praiseworthy.


If last week was about why we pray, this week is about how we pray – which the Bible sums up with the words “in Jesus’ name.” And so what does it mean to pray in Jesus’ name?


Well let me begin by saying that as fallen humans who “miss the mark” with respect to what God requires of us we’re in quite the predicament. God is holy. God is righteous. But you and I, if left to ourselves, are not holy and we’re definitely not righteous. The prophet Habakkuk says that God’s eyes are too pure to even look at evil. But if that’s true how are we supposed to pray, you know, if God can’t even look at us? That’s our predicament.


The Bible’s solution to our predicament is the priest. Now before I go any further I want to be clear – I’m not talking about myself or any other denominational priest. You don’t need me to bridge the gap between you and God. I’m just as flawed as you are – if not more. But, you still need a priest. And so to understand what praying in Jesus’ name means there are two questions we need to answer.


Who is our priest?
What does that mean for our prayer life?


Now we need to brush up really quickly on what a priest does. Does anyone know what a priest does? If you say play ping-pong and eat at New World Deli I’ll be forced to quit my job. In the Old Testament a priest does two things. First, a priest acts as a bridge between humanity and God. A priest stands in the presence of God and serves as a bridge. In the Old Testament people wanting to pray really only had one option. They’d have to find a priest – someone to offer a sacrifice to bridge the gap between themselves and God.


Second, a priest is deeply sympathetic to the needy, the poor, and the broken. Old Testament priests functioned as public health officers. It was their job to work with the lepers and the lame and the overlooked. And so being a priest is a two-fold job. It’s about standing before God as a bridge and about being deeply, deeply sympathetic to all people.


With that in mind, we now hear the story of the first priest and the first prayer that’s recorded in the Bible.


Bible reading: Genesis 18: 17-33


Then the men set out from there, and they looked towards Sodom; and Abraham went with them to set them on their way. The Lord said, ‘Shall I hide from Abraham what I am about to do, seeing that Abraham shall become a great and mighty nation, and all the nations of the earth shall be blessed in him? No, for I have chosen him. Then the Lord said, ‘How great is the outcry against Sodom and Gomorrah and how very grave their sin! I must go down and see whether they have done altogether according to the outcry that has come to me; and if not, I will know.’ So the men turned from there, and went towards Sodom, while Abraham remained standing before the Lord. Then Abraham came near and said, ‘Will you indeed sweep away the righteous with the wicked? Suppose there are fifty righteous within the city; will you then sweep away the place and not forgive it for the fifty righteous who are in it? Far be it from you to do such a thing, to slay the righteous with the wicked, so that the righteous fare as the wicked! Far be that from you! Shall not the Judge of all the earth do what is just?’ And the Lord said, ‘If I find at Sodom fifty righteous in the city, I will forgive the whole place for their sake.’ Abraham answered, ‘Let me take it upon myself to speak to the Lord, I who am but dust and ashes. Suppose five of the fifty righteous are lacking? Will you destroy the whole city for lack of five?’ And he said, ‘I will not destroy it if I find forty-five there.’ Again he spoke to him, ‘Suppose forty are found there.’ He answered, ‘For the sake of forty I will not do it.’ Then he said, ‘Oh do not let the Lord be angry if I speak. Suppose thirty are found there.’ He answered, ‘I will not do it, if I find thirty there.’ He said, ‘Let me take it upon myself to speak to the Lord. Suppose twenty are found there.’ He answered, ‘For the sake of twenty I will not destroy it.’ Then he said, ‘Oh do not let the Lord be angry if I speak just once more. Suppose ten are found there.’ He answered, ‘For the sake of ten I will not destroy it.’ And the Lord went his way, when he had finished speaking to Abraham; and Abraham returned to his place.


Now let’s be honest – this is a really strange story. God and Abraham’s conversation doesn’t sound like a prayer. It sounds like someone haggling a street vendor to get a good deal on a fake Rolex. But what I want you to see is that Abraham isn’t just praying. Abraham is taking on the role of a priest. You see God invites Abraham to stand before Him – to enter His presence and to serve as Sodom’s attorney. God invites Abraham to plead on behalf of the city.

It’s actually amazing what God says – “Shall I hide from Abraham what I am about to do?” And then God says, “no.” “I think I’ll invite Abraham to weigh in.” And then Genesis says that Abraham “came near,” which in the Hebrew is a legal term that basically means, “to approach the bench.” And so this really is an amazing scene – the people of Sodom are on trial for oppressing the poor and God invites Abraham to be their defense attorney, to stand in His presence and to plead on their behalf.


Now at this point there’s something we need to look at, something we’ll miss if we read this story through the lens of our individualistic culture. Abraham knows the people of Sodom are guilty and he knows that God would be just to punish the entire city. Let me explain.


We live in an individualistic culture – a culture that says my sin is my sin and that your sin is your sin. And so if John Doe kills his wife, then he alone will be tried for murder and he alone will be punished – not his father that abused him as a child, not his wife who cheated on him, not the vendor that sold him the gun, not the Hollywood execs making “action” movies because they know that violence sells. Only John Doe will be punished, and in a human court that’s probably for the best. But, the Bible’s view of sin and guilt is a bit more balanced. The Biblical view leans a bit toward corporate responsibility. When it comes to our sin, the Bible challenges our individualistic leanings. Whereas we like to say, “just you – you’re responsible and no one else,” God often says, “no, you’re all responsible. I’d be right in punishing all of you.”


And so whereas our culture blames John Doe for murder, God knows that sin is a bit more complicated than that – that we’re interdependent people and that we’re complicit in each other’s sins. Does God hold John Doe responsible? Yea. But God also knows that his father, his wife, the vendor, the people working at the factory, the execs making the movie and the people paying $8 to watch it also have a role in killing his wife. And so who’s responsible for the outcry against Sodom? The entire city. God would be right to punish them all.


And so when Abraham says, “will the judge of the earth not do what is right?” he’s not suggesting that God would be unjust to destroy Sodom. No Abraham assumes God’s justice. But what Abraham is wondering is this – “Could it work the other way around?” Could God value the righteousness of the few so much that he’s willing to spare the unrighteous many? If I can be judged for the sins of someone else, could I also be let off the hook for the righteousness of someone else? Could it work the other way around? If people with whom I am in solidarity sin and I can be judged for that, what if I’m in solidarity with someone who is righteous – could that cover my sin? You see in asking God to spare the city for the sake of the fifty, the forty, the twenty, and the ten, what Abraham is asking God to do is to so honor the righteousness of the few that he forgives the unrighteousness of the many.


But here’s what’s so amazing. Abraham – the first priest that prays the very first prayer – quits at ten. This reading is like a play that’s missing the final scene – build up, build up, build up … but then the show just ends. 50, 45, 40, 30, 20, 10 … we’re almost there. The reader waits for God to spare the city if one righteousness man is found but Abraham loses his nerve, doesn’t ask, and goes home.


Now I’m not sure why Abraham did that. He probably just lost his nerve. He’s clearly getting more terrified with each request. But, I don’t think that’s the reason. I think Abraham knows that there isn’t even one righteous person in Sodom. Like him, they’re nothing more than, to use his own words, “dust and ashes.”


But, Abraham was clearly on to something. He came to see that the God in whose presence he stood valued righteousness so much that if only one righteous man could be found that his righteousness could cover the unrighteousness of the many.


And so here’s the million-dollar question. Where can we find such a righteous one? Because when we find the righteous one we’ll find our priest.


John 17 (selected verses)


After Jesus had spoken these words, he looked up to heaven and said, ‘I have made your name known to those whom you gave me from the world. I am asking on their behalf; Holy Father, protect them in your name that you have given me, so that they may be one, as we are one. ‘I ask not only on behalf of these, but also on behalf of those who will believe in me through their word, that they may all be one. As you, Father, are in me and I am in you, may they also be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me. ‘Righteous Father, the world does not know you, but I know you; and these know that you have sent me.


This is a portion of Jesus’ prayer the night before he dies. Scholars call it the “high priestly prayer.” Why? Because in John 17 Jesus approaches the bench and He pleads for his people. What Abraham was on the verge of discovering – that the righteousness of one could forgive the unrighteousness of the many – Jesus executes. You see Jesus knew that he alone was the true high priest – the righteous one whose mission was to bridge the gap between God and humanity, not by offering a sacrifice but by becoming one. Do you see what Jesus us saying? “Righteous Father, the world doesn’t know you but I do and I ask that you would value my righteousness so much that their unrighteousness would be forgiven.” In John 17 Jesus approached the bench and He stands there to this very day.


And so who is our priest? The answer is obviously Jesus. That’s what it means to pray in Jesus’ name – to trust Him as our priest before God. As the author of Hebrews puts it, “Jesus saves those who approach God through Him for he always lives to make intercession for them. For it was fitting that we should have such a high priest – holy, blameless and undefiled” (Heb 7: 25-26). Do you understand how radical this is? Next week we’ll talk about us praying to God. But this week I wanted us to understand that God lives to pray for us. Jesus “lives to make intercession for us.” Jesus is always in the presence of God pleading on our behalf. And because He is the righteous one God never turns Him down.


So let’s get practical – what does that mean for our prayer life? Revelation 1:6 puts it like this: “to Jesus who loves us and freed us from our sins … and made us to be … priests serving his God and Father.” Peter, writing to his flock, reminds them that they are a “royal priesthood.” The author of Hebrews urges believers to “boldly approach the throne of grace,” which by now we should recognize as priestly language. If Jesus is our priest that means that we are priests, too. The work of prayer is the work of a priest. And let’s not forget what priests do.


1. A priest stands in the presence of God, has intimacy with God and speaks freely with God.
2. A priest feels great sympathy for the broken and the needy and because of that a priests wants to help.


Practically speaking, as we learn to pray both of these priestly tasks will become second nature to us. First, we’ll learn to live in the presence of God and to speak freely with God the way a young child speaks to His Father. And if you want a sign that measures how well we’re doing this, this is what I’d say. We’ll grow in both boldness and humility. In the world it’s either one or the other but God wants us to be both. He wants us to be humble, because like Abraham we’re still “dust and ashes.” In and of ourselves we’re not righteous. But God also wants us to be bold. Why? Because the Righteous One has bridged the gap. He speaks out on our behalf and He invites us to boldly approach the throne of grace right, to stand right where He is. And so as we learn to pray two things will happen. We’ll (1) look down on no one but at the same time (2) no one will intimidate us. We’ll discover the paradoxical blend of humility and boldness that only the Gospel can bring about.



Second, as we learn to pray our desire to help the broken and the needy will go up. And I don’t necessarily mean the person in the shelter – of course they’re included. I mean the broken and the needy people we interact with day in and day out. Prayer gives us new eyes. The person we once saw as a satanic devil we come to see as a wounded child, someone who’s been hurt time and time again, someone whose learned to bite back just in order to survive. It’s the only way they know how to stay safe. The person on trial for murder? His spirit was murdered long before he pulled the trigger. Prayer helps us see that there is only One who is righteous, and because we come to see it isn’t us, our anger will turn to sympathy.


To pray in Jesus’ name is to trust Him as our priest and if we do that He’ll make us priests as well. Why is this so important? Because we will never pray to God until we understand that, in Christ, God lives to pray for us.

counting the cost

Now large crowds were traveling with Jesus; and he turned and said to them, "Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple. Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple. For which of you, intending to build a tower, does not first sit down and estimate the cost, to see whether he has enough to complete it? Otherwise, when he has laid a foundation and is not able to finish, all who see it will begin to ridicule him, saying, `This fellow began to build and was not able to finish.' Or what king, going out to wage war against another king, will not sit down first and consider whether he is able with ten thousand to oppose the one who comes against him with twenty thousand? If he cannot, then, while the other is still far away, he sends a delegation and asks for the terms of peace. So therefore, none of you can become my disciple if you do not give up all your possessions."


When I moved back to Austin in May of 2008 I bought a house. If you don’t know me, I’m not really a “handyman” so to speak. On mission trips that involve building and nailing and sawing I’m always the supervisor. I don’t know the difference between a buzz saw and a jigsaw. When it comes to skilled labor I am completely unskilled. But it took trying to fix things myself to figure this out and I’ll tell you who the culprit is – Home Depot. Home Depot has this heinous slogan. “You can do it. We can help.” I can do it? If by that Home Depot means electrocute yourself, destroy hard wood floors, rip un-repairable holes in your wall and buy things you can’t assemble than yes – I can do it. Home Depot gave me a false sense of confidence. They told me I was competent, that I could do it – that all I needed was a little help. “You can do it. We can help!”


Far too often we take a Home Depot approach to Christianity. We make faith about pursuing our own agenda and look to Jesus for help when things don’t go our way. But if we think Jesus came to help us with our lives we’re mistaken. For the last 2,000 years Christians have confessed Jesus as their Lord – not as their assistant. In tonight’s Gospel Jesus is clear. He’s not here to help with our life – he’s here to take it. To follow Jesus is to make everything in our lives second to Him – our family, our agenda, our possessions. Jesus loves us too much to settle for a piece of our lives. He wants the whole thing.


Now, just to be clear, Jesus doesn’t want us to hate our family. In fact, let me read the last verse of the entire Old Testament, which is a Messianic prophecy. “He will turn the hearts of parents to their children and the hearts of children to their parents.” In other words, Malachi says the Messiah will restore family relationships. But, the great irony is that we can only love our family to the extent that we learn to love God more. The Greek word translated hate has nothing to do with our emotions. No, Jesus is using hyperbole. His word is meant to be an arrow that pierces our heart and makes us ask, “Where’s my ultimate loyalty? Is it to my family? To my agenda? To my possessions? Or, is my ultimate loyalty with Jesus?” Jesus’ desire is not to help us with our life. His desire is to take our life and remake it. Jesus loves us too much to settle for a piece of our lives. He wants the whole thing.


The “crowds” in today’s Gospel don’t seem to understand that. In the context of Luke’s Gospel, Jesus is marching to Jerusalem fully aware of the cross that awaits Him. You see Jesus knows what the crowds do not – that saving the world is costly. It’s going to require a bloody death on a Roman cross. But the crowds – they want magic and miracles. And so in tonight’s Gospel Jesus is clear. “You’re welcome to follow me. I want you to follow me. But, there’s a cost. It requires putting me first – before your family, your agenda, and your possessions. If you follow me to my cross you’ll have to embrace a cross of your own. And so count the cost. After all, you wouldn’t haphazardly build a tower or go to war. No, you’d first assess the cost and then make a decision. All I’m asking for is the same consideration. Following me will cost everything.”


And so here’s the question tonight’s Gospel demands that we ask. Where’s our ultimate loyalty? Is it to our parents? Parents are really good at deceiving themselves into thinking they should run your life. And you know what? They should when you’re six or sixteen. But, you’re an adult now. Your parents may want one thing for you life but God may want something else. James and John’s dad wanted them to be fisherman but Jesus called them to leave their boat behind. Symbolically speaking, you may have to do the same thing to be faithful. Or maybe our ultimate loyalty is to our own agenda. Perhaps our ambition for ourselves is so great that everything else, including our parents and friends, takes a backseat. Or maybe we’re seeking some other possession – money, fame, respect, the perfect body, the perfect image. Maybe we want this person’s love or that person’s approval. Where’s our ultimate loyalty? What do we love the most? Jesus? Or something else?


Listen – it’s impossible to love any thing or person too much. You can’t love your family too much. You can’t love your self too much. You can’t love your money too much. You can only love these things too much in proportion to your love for God. And by definition, that’s all sin is – loving something or someone more than we love God. And it’s something that all of us do. And so we need to be clear about Jesus’ desire in calling us. He doesn’t just want to help us. Jesus’ desire is to save us – to teach us the joy of seeking the Kingdom of God first. But, that lesson is costly. It requires learning to make Jesus the supreme treasure of our life – it means learning to love Him more than we love anything else.


Our problem isn’t that we love things too much – that’s impossible. Our problem is that we love God too little. Teaching us to love God – with all of our heart, soul, mind and strength – that’s ultimately what Jesus is about. That being said, it’s a costly lesson. Writing from the perspective of Jesus, this is how CS Lewis puts it:


“I don’t want so much of your time, so much of your talents and money, and so much of your work. I want you. I have not come to torment or frustrate [your natural self]. I’ve come to kill it. No half measures will do. Hand [your whole self] over to me – … all of your desires, all of your wants and wishes and dreams. Give me yourself and in exchange I will give you Myself. My will shall become your will. My heart shall become your heart.” In other words, Jesus says “I love you too much to settle for a piece of your life. I want the whole thing.”


And so here’s the million-dollar question. After counting the cost, where do we get the strength and the courage to give Jesus everything? Well, there’s something we have to see – Jesus only asks us to do for Him what He’s already done for us. Let us not think that in becoming human God was taking a risk. No, the Son of God first had to count the cost – the cost of becoming human; the cost of being rejected and killed; the cost of not just leaving His Father, but on the cross, being abandoned by His Father. Think about it. On the cross Jesus looked like a false Messiah – he was mistaken for a man that started something He wasn’t able to complete and people passing by began to ridicule him. “This fellow began to build,” they said, “and was not able to finish.” The Son of God had to count the cost. To save us Jesus had to march straight into battle not with ten thousand at his side but alone, and with no terms of peace. Before saving us, God first counted the cost. Jesus knew that our salvation would cost him everything. And here’s what’s so amazing. To God it was worth it.


To be a Christian is to believe that the One for whom and through whom all things exist gladly gave up everything for us. Do you see why Jesus isn’t the sort of person you ask to be your assistant? No – He’s someone that deserves our ultimate loyalty. And learning to give Jesus our life – it’s a lifelong process. I’ll be honest; there are a lot of things I haven’t turned over yet. When it comes to following Jesus we’re all just a little unskilled. And so as you go out into the world this week do me a favor – don’t try to fix things yourself. Hope Depot Christianity is a parody of the Gospel; the Gospel that says Jesus counted the cost and decided to fix things for us. Has that sunk in? Because to the extent that it does we can drop a possession here, and a possession there, and follow Jesus to the cross with a smile. Why? Because the One we follow counted the cost and apparently thought we were worth it.

Father (understanding the god we pray to) -- OMEGA

Bible reading: Luke 11:1-3
Jesus was praying in a certain place, and after he had finished, one of his disciples said to him, ‘Lord, teach us to pray, as John taught his disciples.’ He said to them, ‘When you pray, say: Father, hallowed be your name.


As a minister I often find myself in arguments over some of the most controversial issues of our time, the last of which was a pretty heated debate over the single most memorable moment in the history of college football. And of the many suggestions offered, most were a variation of the same play. Although named after a Roman Catholic prayer this play is used by Catholics, Protestants, and atheists alike. Can anyone guess what play I’m referring to? The Hail Mary pass. (Flutie to Phelan, the miracle at Miami, ring a bell?) Well, for you non-sports fans, the Hail Mary is a play of desperation. The Hail Mary is run when the clock is ticking away, the goal line seems a mile away, and a victory is in jeopardy. In other words, the Hail Mary is a last resort, where the quarterback desperately hurls the ball against impossible odds to the corner of the end zone. The idea is that a pass thrown in such desperate circumstances can only be completed with the help of divine intervention. Commentators will even say that the quarterback “threw up a prayer” in such situations.

Now, I’d like to ask a question. Why is the Hail Mary the only play in football named after a prayer? There is no Hail Mary kickoff return to begin the game, and to date no coach has ever run the Lord’s Prayer half back sweep. Why is Mary brought in the last play of the game?

The answer is because prayer is something that our world associates with desperation. The rationale is that for the majority of the game, I can rely on my own strength, my own resources, my own game plan to carry me, but in a moment of crisis, when human competency and cleverness have failed, when all other options are depleted, when something significant is in jeopardy, that – of course – is when it’s time to “throw up a prayer.” Prayer is something that our world associates with desperation.

Now, you and I know in our bones that praying is something that we should do. That it’s important. That prayer is essential if we’re going to grow in our faith. And yet we struggle. As Paul once noted in his letter to the Romans “we do not know how to pray as we ought.” And let’s be honest. Paul’s right. We find prayer difficult. We don’t always know what to say or how to listen and because of that some of us never even get started. And yet we know that prayer is something we should do, that as Christians prayer is our duty. After all in tonight’s reading Jesus doesn’t say, “If you pray,” he says, “When you pray.” Jesus prayed and he assumed that his disciples would pray as well. And so on the one hand we know that prayer is our duty, but on the other hand we struggle – we “do not know how to pray as we ought.” And so we have to ask, what’s the secret? How do we learn to pray well?

Well, tonight I’ll mention two big reasons we struggle to pray well. We struggle to pray well because we misunderstand faith. We struggle to pray well because we misunderstand God. First, we misunderstand faith, and because of that, we misunderstand God. And because we misunderstand both faith and God, we struggle with prayer.

Let’s start with how we often misunderstand faith. A sociologist by the name of Christian Smith did a fascinating study on the religious beliefs of young adults in America and he coined the term “Moralistic Therapeutic Deism” to describe what he found. According to his well documented study, the overwhelming majority of young adults in America believes in God, and in fact most of them self-identity as Christian, but when it comes to important questions of faith very few people have convictions. Moralist Therapeutic Deism, according to Smith, is the new religion of America’s youth. Here are just a few of the highlights of Moralistic Therapeutic Deistic belief.

One, God’s primary desire is that people are nice and good. (moralistic)

Two, God’s primary purpose is that we feel good about ourselves and find happiness on earth. (therapeutic)

Three, God doesn’t want to be too involved in our life but doesn’t mind being called upon from time to time to solve a problem – you know if we’re really in a jam. (deism)

God wants us to be nice. God wants us to feel good. Assuming we’re trying to be nice, God leaves us alone to do as we please.

Now, I’m not trying to be disrespectful or to knock anyone’s beliefs but I do want to be honest about something. If we embrace the worldview of moralistic therapeutic deism we’ll never learn to pray. And do you know why? Because moralistic therapeutic deism places us at the center. Think about it. It’s a faith that’s based around us – around us being nice and around us feeling good and around us making our own plans and charting our own course. But if we think that faith is primarily about us then we’ll never learn to pray. We’ll treat God like a genie or like a cosmic Santa Claus, always approaching Him with a list, feeling happy when we get our way and getting depressed whenever we don’t.

Moralist therapeutic deism; think for a moment about what those words actually mean. First, moralistic – the belief that faith is about us being good people. But according to the Bible, we’re not good people. We’re actually quite selfish and we can do some pretty rotten things. Christian faith is not about us being good. It’s about God being good. It’s not about us climbing a ladder up to God. It’s about Him climbing down to us.

Second, therapeutic – the belief that faith’s primary objective is good self-esteem and that God wants us to learn to be confident in our abilities. But according to the Bible, we rightly feel guilty for some of the things we do and because of our inadequacies all of our confidence should be in God. Christianity calls us to esteem not ourselves but God. Following Christ will lead to self-esteem; but that self-esteem is a byproduct of esteeming God above all else.

And finally, deism – the belief that God is far removed, that He doesn’t care about every detail of our life but only wants to be bothered with the “big stuff.” But according to the Bible, God has every hair on our head numbered. To God, the small stuff is all very big and very important. The God we worship wants to be involved in every aspect of our life.

Now to some extent – all of us, myself included – misunderstand the Christian faith. From time to time we lapse into moralism – thinking that faith is about us being good. Or we make faith therapeutic – thinking that faith is about us feeling good. Or we act like deists, forgetting that the God of the Bible cares more about our life than we care about our own. That’s what I mean when I say that we misunderstand faith. We have a tendency to make faith about us – about us being good and about us feeling good. We place ourselves at the center. But if we’re going to learn how to pray we need to place God at the center. And I can’t stress this enough – not just any view of God will do. There are a lot of views of God floating around out there and the vast majority of them just aren’t biblical. And I say that because as Christians we believe that God has revealed Himself in and through the Bible and that He wants to be known. And so if we’re going to pray well, and if we’re going to have a proper understanding of our faith, we need to know God’s character. For example, if we think of God as an angry tyrant or as a senile, benevolent grandfather or as some impersonal, amorphous blob we’re just not going to advance very far in our prayer life.

And so that leaves us with a question. Just who exactly is the God we pray to? Well, to answer that question I’d like to give us the eight late great truths about the God we pray to. The eight, great truths about God – lucky for us, they all happen to start with a P. The God we pray to – what is He like?

1. The God we pray to is personal

God isn’t a force or just impersonal energy. God is personal. That’s part of what it means to say that we’re made in the image of God. In the same way that we take personal interest in each other God takes a personal interest in us. The God we pray to isn’t an object. The God we pray to is a Subject. A person. A being with desires and feelings and a passion for what is true. The God we pray to is personal.

2. The God we pray to is plural

God is a trinity of persons. God is Father, Son and Holy Spirit – not three Gods, but one – and yet three distinct personalities within the one Godhead. What this means is that God is, by definition, perfect community. God is Father, Son and Holy Spirit. The Bible’s witness is that the three persons of the Trinity are both one in being and purpose, but at the same time, they work together for our salvation. We don’t worship three Gods but one. But, the One God we pray to is plural.

3. The God we pray to is perfect

What this means is that God isn’t capable of being better than He actually is. God lacks nothing. He’s not deficient in any way. God needs no improvement. When Moses asks God for His name God’s response is “I am who I am,” which is God’s way of saying that He’s perfect. He’s the God who just IS – always present, always in control. He ordained both what is and what will be and all that He’s ordained is perfect.

4. The God we pray to is powerful

This means that God is omnipresent, permeating every inch of our world. There’s literally nowhere we can go to hide from God. You’d be better off hiding from Sherlock Holmes in a telephone booth than you’d be hiding from God. But not only is God omnipresent, He’s also omniscient, which means that He knows everything, literally everything that has been, that is and that will be. Nothing surprises God. The past, present and future are all His. The God we pray to is powerful.

5. The God we pray to is purposeful

God has a purpose in creating us and in creating our world – and it’s not primarily our self-esteem. Now granted, having a proper understanding of God and our place in God’s world will no doubt cure low-self esteem, but God’s purpose is much greater than what most of us imagine. And God’s purpose is two-fold. First, God wants all of creation to honor and glorify His Son Jesus Christ. Second, God wants his adopted sons and daughters – that’s you and me – to be holy, joyful and complete, which of course happens as we learn to honor and glorify Jesus. After all, the Bible tells us that we were created for Jesus and through Jesus, which means that our purpose is found in Him. The God we pray to has a purpose.

6. The God we pray to is a promise-keeper

God makes promises to people who trust Him. “I will never leave you or forsake you. I will do for you what you cannot do for yourself. I won’t let anything happen to you that, in the end, will not work for your good.” These are just a few of the promises that God makes us – promises that God, because He’s perfect and powerful and purposeful, will not break. The God we pray to makes promises that he cannot break.

7. The God we pray to is paternal

Jesus tells us to call God call Father. Yes, God also compares Himself to a mother but that doesn’t start with a P. God is an amazing Father. God calls us His children and He behaves toward us in a fatherly way. The biblical metaphor of fatherhood means authority, affection, and care on the one hand, but also discipline and protection on the other. And like all good Fathers God wants His children to grow up – to become strong and wise and mature. The God we pray to is paternal.

8. The God we pray to us praiseworthy

Because God is personal and plural and perfect and powerful and purposeful and promise-keeping and paternal, does it not stand to reason that He’s praiseworthy? God merits all the adoration we can give him not only for who He is but also for the faithfulness that He shows us in so many ways.

And so back to our question. What’s the secret? How do we learn to pray well? The secret to praying well is knowing that God is praiseworthy, not just in our heads but in our hearts. Knowing that God is at the center of the universe and not ourselves – knowing that to be true and being thrilled about it – that is the secret to prayer. For though it may be true that prayer is the first duty of the Christian, it’s also true that we’ll never learn to pray until prayer becomes more than a duty. Prayer must become our delight. We’ll never learn to pray until we love to pray. And we’ll never love to pray until we understand the greatness of the God that we pray to – who He is and what He’s done for us.

And if I had to choose one word that best describes what God’s done for us I’d choose the word adoption. That word means that in Christ, God has done for us what we could not do for ourselves. By living the life we should have lived and dying the death we should have died, God has brought us into His family. He’s adopted us as children. He’s given us a great inheritance. All things that belong to Jesus now belong to us. He looks at us and feels great pride and joy. He calls us his own and says, “with you I am well pleased.” Paul, in his letter the Ephesians, puts it like this:

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places, just as he chose us in Christ before the foundation of the world to be holy and blameless before him in love. He destined us for adoption as his children through Jesus Christ, according to the good pleasure of his will, to the praise of his glorious grace that he freely bestowed on us in the Beloved. In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of his grace that he lavished on us. In Christ we have also obtained an inheritance, having been destined according to the purpose of him who accomplishes all things according to his counsel and will, so that we, who were the first to set our hope on Christ, might live for the praise of his glory.


Do you hear what Paul’s saying? He says that we’re …

• blessed with every spiritual blessing
• chosen before the foundation of the world
• destined for adoption
• redeemed through his blood
• forgiven of our trespasses

This is where authentic, joy-filled prayer begins – with a correct understanding of the God we pray to, which of course includes the wonderful salvation that God’s accomplished for us. Think about how radical Jesus’ teaching on prayer is. When you pray, Jesus tells his disciples, say Father. Jesus tells us to begin our prayer by addressing God as our Father. To the extent that we understand how radical God’s love for us is, to the extent that we understand how praiseworthy God is, prayer will become for us not a last resort but a first resort. And that’s what I’m inviting you to learn this semester at Omega – how to pray as a first resort, how to find joy in knowing just how desperate we are, how to depend on God not just at the end of the game but for every single play.

Jesus was praying in a certain place, and after he had finished, one of his disciples said to him, ‘Lord, teach us to pray, as John taught his disciples.’ He said to them, ‘When you pray, say: Father.

friend, move up higher!

On one occasion when Jesus was going to the house of a leader of the Pharisees to eat a meal on the sabbath, they were watching him closely. When he noticed how the guests chose the places of honor, he told them a parable. "When you are invited by someone to a wedding banquet, do not sit down at the place of honor, in case someone more distinguished than you has been invited by your host; and the host who invited both of you may come and say to you, `Give this person your place,' and then in disgrace you would start to take the lowest place. But when you are invited, go and sit down at the lowest place, so that when your host comes, he may say to you, `Friend, move up higher'; then you will be honored in the presence of all who sit at the table with you. For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted." He said also to the one who had invited him, "When you give a luncheon or a dinner, do not invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or rich neighbors, in case they may invite you in return, and you would be repaid. But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind. And you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you, for you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous.

CS Lewis was once asked by a group of his colleagues at Oxford about the uniqueness of Christianity. “All religions present ethical challenges on how to live and what to value. Other religions have stories of virgin births and miracles and gods walking the earth. And so what,” they sneered, “makes Christianity any different?” “What makes Christianity different?” Lewis asked rhetorically before answering their question. “Grace.”

Today’s reading from Luke is a parable – a parable Jesus tells to shatter the anti¬-grace tendencies that exist within our hearts. Jesus’ parable on “taking the lowest place” is not advice on how to behave at a party. God did not become human to save us from social embarrassment. No, Jesus’ parable is meant to subvert our anti¬-grace tendencies. Jesus wants to kill that piece within each one of us that seeks to exalt ourselves in the sight of God.


Now, a little background info before moving on. Tonight’s Gospel takes place at the head Pharisees’ house – the leading person of the leading group that opposes Jesus’ work. Luke also says the Pharisees “were watching him closely,” but a better translation is “hostilely observing.” It’s actually a word Luke links with assassination plots. And so the emotional tone of tonight’s Gospel is bitter hostility. People are angry with Jesus and they’re offended. Why?


Well, the Pharisees were obsessed with their own religious performance. Ethnically speaking, they were Jewish – part of God’s covenant people – and by virtue of their birth they were promised a share in the Kingdom of God, which the Bible compares to a great wedding banquet. In other words, Pharisees were insiders and that made them feel special. But not only that, the Pharisees were meticulous rule followers. They didn’t just have the law; they kept it to the tee. And because of that the Pharisees thought they were superior to people who were poor or unclean or overtly sinful or not Jewish. And what do people do when they feel superior to others? They exalt themselves.


There’s a story about Winston Churchill in the later years of his life. Apparently, upon exiting his car the former Prime Minister chided his driver for being rude. “Sir,” said the driver in response, “you were first rude to me.” And as Churchill exited the car he was heard to say under his breath. “Yes, but I am a great man.” Yes both of us were rude. I’ll give you that. But I – I am a great man.


The Pharisees, in their own eyes, were great men –by virtue of their birth and by virtue of their performance. And because of that they pushed themselves forward in the sight of God believing that God delighted in their purity, their meticulous rule keeping, and their utter refusal to associate with people they deemed unclean. And so why is Jesus’ parable so emotionally charged? Because Jesus has been consistently making claims about himself and his work that offend and shatter their anti-grace tendencies. “Keep putting yourself forward in the sight of God,” Jesus said, “and you’re going to be humbled. The great wedding banquet is on its way, but if you think you’re getting in because of your birth or performance – if you put yourself forward in the sight of God and presume to take the highest place – then guess what? You can’t come. God’s invitation,” Jesus said, “is for one group and one group only – the poor, the crippled, the lame and the blind.” And of course everything about Jesus’ life reiterated this teaching. He treated nobodies like kings and freaks like celebrities. Jesus embraced people that everyone assumed wasn’t invited to the banquet. And what was his message? “Good news, you can come too after all.” No. Jesus’ word was so much more offensive and beautiful than that. “Friend,” he said to the trash of the earth, “Move up higher. Take the seat of honor at my Father’s banquet.” Grace. That is what makes Christianity unique, and when properly understood it’s either offensive or it’s beautiful.


And so this parable demands that we ask ourselves a question. What anti-grace tendencies are keeping us out of the banquet? “None! Right? We love grace.” But do we? For example, if there’s something we’ve done that we know God’s forgiven us for but we can’t forgive ourselves, we find grace offensive. Don’t mistake that for humility. It’s the worst kind of pride. It means we’re obsessed with our own performance. Or maybe we’re proud of where we are in life right now instead of being grateful, and have a problem with slackers and underachievers who aren’t quite as gifted. Don’t mistake that for responsibility. It’s the worst kind of ignorance. It means we’ve forgotten that everything we have, including our intellect and our work ethic, is a gift of sheer grace. Now, these are just a few of the ways we find grace offensive, but of course it doesn’t stop here. And so we have to ask ourselves. Do we have any anti-grace tendencies keeping us out of the banquet?


Well, after hearing today’s Gospel, which of the following prayers rings more true? God, give me grace to like serving the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind. I know you love them, teach me to like them enough to serve them. Or, prayer #2 – God thank you for inviting me to the banquet. I’m poor in spirit. I’m crippled by sin. You tell me to walk humbly beside you but I’m lame. You tell me to behold your beauty but I’m blind. I don’t deserve it but I’m so grateful – thank you for inviting me to the banquet.


You see it’s not that the first prayer is a bad one. But behind the prayer that we’ll learn to like the unfortunate is a subtle belief that you and I are great and that Christianity is primarily an ethical challenge to love people that aren’t so great. But Christianity isn’t about great people learning to love people that aren’t great. It’s about a great God – a great God that chooses to love, save, and bless people that aren’t great at all. Christianity is not primarily an ethical challenge. Christianity is first and foremost about grace.


Jesus’ parable begins, “when you are invited by someone to a wedding banquet.” You see the great irony is that we are invited, not as a guest but as the bride. It’s not a coincidence that Jesus’ first miracle takes place at a wedding banquet. That miracle was a sign, a pointer to the great wedding that awaits our world – a wedding between Christ and His Church. God’s intention has always been to marry His people. But as Proverbs puts it, we can’t put ourselves forward in the presence of the King. We’re sinful and fragile people, completely unfit to seek God’s hand in marriage. Humanity seeking out God would be like a deformed troll proposing to a supermodel. God is in so much higher of a place.


And so do you see the irony of the parable? The One who told it – who John calls “full of grace and truth” – is seeking our hand in marriage. And because we could not go where He was, He came to where we are. And though no one on earth was more distinguished than Jesus, He did not sit down at the place of honor. But on the cross, Jesus sat down at the lowest place possible. In a world that seeks to exalt itself, Jesus chose to be humbled. In a world that seeks to honor itself, Jesus chose to be shamed. In a world that seeks to move up higher and higher and higher, the bridegroom chose to move down lower and lower and lower just so he could get back his bride.


And why? Because Jesus wants to speak four grace-filled words to anyone humble enough to hear them. “Friend – move up higher.” This is what Luke Timothy Johnson says about this verse. “To be greeted as friend and invited higher suggests a special intimacy and, more than that, equality with the host.” In other words, in calling us friend Jesus is asking His Father to treat us as his equal. And if that makes you uncomfortable, let me ask you this. What do you think marriage is? Paul says we’re co-heirs with Christ. Peter says God is grafting us into the divine nature. Jesus tells us that when the Kingdom of God comes He will serve us. In other words, what Jesus does for each of us is stand in His Father’s presence and say, “Give this person my place. On the cross I took their place. Give this person my place. Father, I want them to be honored in your presence.” Grace.


Now in just a moment we’ll get a foretaste of God’s future wedding banquet in the Eucharist. And so let us not forget who’s invited. The poor, the crippled, the lame and the blind. That’s it. My prayer is that we’ll be humble enough to understand what the Pharisees didn’t. Jesus was talking about us.

our jar will never run out

The word of the LORD came to Elijah, saying, "Go now to Zarephath, which belongs to Sidon, and live there; for I have commanded a widow there to feed you." So he set out and went to Zarephath. When he came to the gate of the town, a widow was there gathering sticks; he called to her and said, "Bring me a little water in a vessel, so that I may drink." As she was going to bring it, he called to her and said, "Bring me a morsel of bread in your hand." But she said, "As the LORD your God lives, I have nothing baked, only a handful of meal in a jar, and a little oil in a jug; I am now gathering a couple of sticks, so that I may go home and prepare it for myself and my son, that we may eat it, and die." Elijah said to her, "Do not be afraid; go and do as you have said; but first make me a little cake of it and bring it to me, and afterwards make something for yourself and your son. For thus says the LORD the God of Israel: The jar of meal will not be emptied and the jug of oil will not fail until the day that the LORD sends rain on the earth." She went and did as Elijah said, so that she as well as he and her household ate for many days. The jar of meal was not emptied, neither did the jug of oil fail, according to the word of the LORD that he spoke by Elijah.

About six or seven years ago I visited Auschwitz, an internment camp in Poland, where millions died under a satanic Nazi regime. And among those murdered was Maximilian Kolbe. For his actions at Auschwitz Kolbe is now a saint. When I was in Rome last week I went to the church where Kolbe was canonized. I was intrigued to discover that he’s “the patron saint of our difficult century.” As a side note, he’s also the patron saint of amateur talk-radio – but that’s a different sermon. But the patron saint of our difficult century – why?

Well, we commemorate saints because they lived the gospel story in a powerful way. And Kolbe’s story is a gospel story – a story that reminds us in the midst of a starving world that Jesus Christ still feeds us. In July of 1941 ten men in Kolbe’s barracks were chosen to starve to death and one man in particular began to cry out in fear. “I have a wife! I have children! Please, I beg you, take someone else!” And hearing this plea, Kolbe stepped forward, raised his hand, and spoke the following words: “I will die for that man.”

Kolbe willingly substituted himself for this condemned man, and each time the guards checked on Kolbe he was always in prayer. With no food or water the guards assumed he’d starve in days, but after three weeks Kolbe was still alive. But more than that, he was still alive – still singing, still praying, still smiling. Eventually Kolbe was injected with carbolic acid and then he did die. But, he did not starve. Like the widow in today’s reading from 1 Kings his jug of oil just wouldn’t run out. And that is why Kolbe is the saint of “our difficult century.” He put others first. He was more concerned with feeding others than he was with feeding himself. He spoke the words – he lived the words – our “me-first” world finds absurd: “I will die for that man.”

Today’s reading from 1 Kings is also set in a difficult century, and different people are starving under different circumstances. To give you a little background info, the Kingdom of Israel has been torn apart and the evil King Ahab has turned the people’s hearts to Baal, who they believe is the god of rain. And so to expose the impotence of Baal, to turn the people’s hearts back to Himself, God sends Elijah to Ahab to announce a drought. But in a place where water and rain mean life and death, what Elijah announces, practically speaking, is famine. The people, it seems, are condemned to starve.

And so that’s the background to today’s reading, which begins like this. “The word of the Lord came to Elijah saying ‘Go now to Zarephath, for I have commanded a widow to feed you.” Now it’s worth noting that in Elijah’s day widows had no social, political or economic status. It’s significant that the author of 1 Kings doesn’t even know her name. You see every detail about this widow screams vulnerable, outsider, weak, poor, hopeless. When her husband died she lost her hope, she lost her status. And her circumstances reiterate this truth. When Elijah asks for food, she explains that her situation is so desperate that her plan is to make one final meal and then to die. Poor, vulnerable and weak, this widow has no hope, no status. Like all the others it seems she’s condemned to starve.

And yet, Elijah offers her hope. He assures the widow that if she takes the little food that she does have and prepares him a meal, that she’ll have more than enough for her family – that God Himself will see to it that they’re fed until the drought comes to an end. And of course, that’s exactly what happens. The widow is hungry, but first she feeds Elijah. And her jug of oil doesn’t run out.

Now, I must have read this passage thirty times before finding the two words that unlock its meaning. “But first.” In fact, these two words are the key to understanding the Gospel. “But first.” You see, when the widow tells Elijah she’s only got food for her family Elijah’s response is “but first.” “But first, he says, “make me a little cake and then make something for yourself, because if you do that,” Elijah tells her, “You’ll never starve. You’ll never die. Your jar will never run out.”

Now, let’s be honest. Our world is starving. On the one hand we’re aware that there’s physical hunger and thousands die of starvation every day. But in the contemporary affluent West our hunger is different. We’re hungry because we buy into the false logic of a “me-first” world, a world that’s taught us to feed ourselves first and then to give our scraps to someone else. But you see there’s a problem with this “me-first” perspective. It completely runs counter to how the Kingdom of God operates. And the Kingdom of God isn’t a religion or a philosophy or a life-path you may choose or not choose depending on your temperament. The Kingdom of God is an unseen but very present reality. The Kingdom of God is reality. And we can align our lives with how the Kingdom operates. Or, we can go with the flow and put ourselves first. But to go with the flow of a me-first world is necessarily a choice against the Kingdom. Why? Because the Kingdom’s mission statement consists of only two words: “But first.” But first love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind and strength. But first love your neighbor. But first give yourself to a starving world – your money, your time, your heart – but first give yourself, and your jar will never run out.

Now I bet you think you know where I’m going with this. “Maximilian Kolbe put others first, the widow put others first, Jesus taught us to put others first, they’re all great examples, and so go deny yourself, be a servant, see you next week.” That’s the Sunday school lesson I heard as a child, and had I been a little older and tad wiser I would have sued for malpractice. Why? Because the Bible isn’t a book of moral instructions with stories sprinkled in. The Bible is first and foremost a redemptive story. It’s a true story with a climax and a Hero – and all the small stories like the one we heard this morning all point to that climax and that Hero – a Hero who embodied the “but first” principle all the way to the cross.

And so I’ll end by saying this. In the context of the Gospel story, the drought is a metaphor for a world that’s alienated from God, a world that runs on the “me-first” principle. That’s the world we live in and everything around us bears witness to this truth – the millions that starve, the confusion and depression, the oil spills and anger spills, the wars – not just between nations but within families. There’s a drought, and it’s been going on for a long time now.

And so it’s not a coincidence that our worship climaxes with the receiving of bread or that Jesus likened the Kingdom of God to a great banquet or that He promised “living water” to his disciples. You see the good news of the Christian Gospel is that there’s a Hero to the story – one who provides feast to our famine. And so I want to end by pointing you to the Hero of the story, the Hero who became a like widow for us by emptying Himself of all status – a Hero who cried out from the cross “I thirst” so that you and I may drink.

You see, you and I are unnamed widows – poor, vulnerable, weak, hopeless, hungry, and because of that, condemned to die. That is until Jesus stepped forward and said “but first.” “But first” I will die for that man. I will die for that woman. I will substitute myself for this condemned world.

If we grasp that Jesus put us first, if we understand that he died so that we might live, we can joyfully put others first in our lives. But, outside an understanding of who Jesus is and what He’s done for us, putting others first is unsustainable and it’s a burden. If we put others first without understanding that He put us first, we’ll get self-righteous and angry and our jar of oil will eventually run out. Because by putting us first Jesus wasn’t just giving us a good example – he was decisively putting an end to famine and restoring the status of widows like ourselves. He was giving us hope. He was giving us assurance that we’re loved, that we have worth in His eyes. Has that truth sunk in? If so, we can joyfully put others first because we know the Hero lives, that He’s going to feed us until the drought comes to an end, and that our jar will never run out.