READY, WILLING, AND ABLE

Don’t you think it’s interesting that the one thing the disciples wanted Jesus to teach them to do was to pray? They didn’t ask him to teach them to preach, though they must have heard him preach many, many times. They didn’t ask him to show them how to teach the crowds, though they had seen him instruct literally thousands of people. They didn’t ask him to teach them how to heal the sick or how to cast out demons, though they had seen him do so. No, the one thing they wanted to learn from Jesus was how to pray.
No doubt they had watched as he drew aside from the great crowds of people that gathered wherever he went. Usually it was early in the morning or late at night that he drew aside to find a secluded spot, a place to pray. And no doubt the disciples had sensed something very different both in the way Jesus prayed and the affects of his prayers. There must have been something starling, powerful, and even awesome that took place whenever Jesus prayed. For all the miracles and wonders they had seen in the time they spent with Jesus, it was his times of prayer that were to them the most significant. It was the time he spent alone with his Father that seemed to be the most impressive. And so they asked him “Lord Teach us to pray.”
You know, as I’ve thought about prayer and what this Scripture says about prayer, I think I’ve come to the conclusion that prayer greatly depends on two things. First, is the character of the one to whom we pray. And of course, as Christians we pray to the living and all powerful God whose essence and character is perfect love. So this first aspect of prayer is really beyond our control. But the second one isn’t. The second one is our understanding of the character of the one to whom we pray. It is how we see God, how we understand his nature. And I think this is what Jesus is getting at in this section of Luke. He’s helping us to understand God’s nature when it comes to prayer.
You see, God wants us to come to him. He tells us to “ask, seek, and knock.” He invites us to come to him through prayer and allow him to mend the hole in our lives… to fix what has become broken. Only God can do that. Only God can fill the void that is in our soul. Anything else is just an illusion... an illusion of peace… an illusion of happiness… an illusion of satisfaction. Unfortunately, though, illusions often create very real dangers.
We’ve all heard stories about the person lost in a desert who is dying of thirst. And as she claws her way across the sand, she sees reflected on a sand dune what looks like an oasis. It’s only a mirage; it’s not real. But the illusion is so intense and vivid because her need is so strong and so real that she actually tries to drink the sand.
Though most omit it from Luke’s version of this story, there are some manuscripts that have, “If a child asks for bread would you give him a stone.” The answer is, “Of course not.” But still, there are similarities between a loaf of bread and what a smooth, round stone may look like. And after all, wasn’t it the stones that Satan used to tempt Jesus to turn into bread in order to satisfy his hunger? There must be something in the appearance of bread and a smooth, desert stone that’s very similar. But there is also a big difference.
You see, one o f the dangers of living with illusions is that there is no satisfaction in it. The stone may look like bread, but it isn’t bread. And because it isn’t bread, the satisfaction it offers isn’t real. It’s an illusion that in the end leaves us feeling empty.
How many stories do we need to hear of the rich and the famous taking their own lives because they weren’t satisfied? They had everything—or at least everything this world could offer—and yet they were empty.
That’s because the things that the world offers to us are only stones, illusions, they’re not real. What we need is bread, not stones. Jesus said that he was the living bread that came down from heaven, and that those who partake of this bread shall never die. He said that he was the bread of life, and whoever comes to him shall never be hungry. Only Jesus is able to satisfy our deepest need.
I was once told by someone who grew up in Columbia that high in up in the mountains of that country, where the coca plant grew, the local villagers would chew on the leaves of that tree in order to ease their hunger pains. It is from those leave that the narcotic cocaine is derived. They would chew the leaves, usually with a bit of lime to increase the effectiveness to suppress their appetite. But it couldn’t satisfy the hunger, it could only mask it. And if the person didn’t eat, eventually they would die. The illusion couldn’t keep them alive; it could only hide the pain.
And so Luke’s main point comes with the questions: “If your child asks for a fish will [you] give a snake instead of a fish? Or if the child asks for an egg, will [you] give a scorpion?” And again the answer is, “Of course not.” Both the sting of a scorpion and the bight of a snake are serious, and both have the potential to kill. One of the very real dangers of an illusion is, not only does it not satisfy, but it is spiritually fatal as well.
Spiritual fatality comes when our focus is taken off of God and placed on this world and what this world can give. And once that separation takes place, we are in essence spiritually dead. The venom of illusion always seeks to kill that which would draw us to God. It always tries to keep us from turning to God. It prevents us from asking, seeking or knocking. It keeps us from prayer.
But when we do come to God in prayer we find that what God offers to us is not an illusion, but something very, very real. And not only is it not an illusion, but what God gives is always the very best. And it is always more than enough.
Just look at the story of the wedding feast in Canna. The wedding was in full swing when the host ran out of wine. In that time and culture, this would have been disastrous. But at the request of his mother, Jesus turned six water pots full of water into wine. And not just any cheap wine, but as the host of the party said, it was the best wine.
Or what about the little group of followers that was caught on the back side of the Sea of Galilee? It was late in the day, there was no McDonalds around, no 7-11, nothing… just desert. Jesus took the small sack lunch of a little boy and he fed five-thousand men and their families. Not only did they eat until they were full, but as the disciples cleaned up, they were able to fill twelve baskets with leftovers.
Or what about the time by the Sea of Galilee when Jesus told Simon to push out into deep water and throw down his net for a catch of fish? Simon obeyed and had such a catch that it started to break his nets. When he called for help they soon had both boats so full that they both began to sink.
And what about your own life? How many times can you look back and see the hand of God providing when there seemed to be no possible way? And isn’t it always the case that God’s provision in those times turns out to be the very best?
That brings us to God’s ultimate gift; God’s ultimate provision for us. Jesus says if we being evil know how to give good gifts to our children, “how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him?”
Now this is the ultimate gift. It is the gift that goes beyond our everyday need and reaches to our ultimate need—our need for God. What greater gift could God give than to give God’s self. That is what God has done on the cross. And that is what God continues to do through the Holy Spirit.
Humanity’s deepest desire has always been to find fulfillment and peace. But it’s a desire that can never be realized by anything we can have apart from God. “What benefit would it be if we could gain the world but in the end loose our soul?”
You see, that’s the point. Jesus said, “Peace I leave you; my peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you.” The peace Jesus gives is one which the world can never know because it is a peace that originated in the heart of God. It is a peace that can never be realized apart from God, a peace that surpasses all understanding. It is a kenotic peace, one secured at Calvary.
Humanity’s need for fulfillment and peace can only be found in the self-giving God’s gift given through the cross. It is a gift we are called to imitate.
The apostle Paul says, “So then, brothers and sisters, we are debtors, not to the flesh, to live according to the flesh—for if you live according to the flesh, you will die; but if by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live. For all who are led by the Spirit of God are children of God. For you did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received a spirit of adoption. When we cry ‘Abba! Father!’ it is that very Spirit bearing witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs, heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ—if, in fact, we suffer with him so that we may also be glorified with him.”
We began with Jesus’ instruction to ask, seek, and knock. These three words carry a meaning far beyond a single event. You see, as Christians we are to continually ask, to always be seeking, and to never stop knocking. It is a call to an ever deepening relationship with God. It is a call to all Christians everywhere to look to God. It is a call to find our total and absolute contentment in Christ and Christ alone.
The cry to ask, seek, knock is also a plea. It is a plea to those who do not know God—to those who may know the name, but not the person of Jesus Christ. It is a plea to those who have been looking down the wrong paths for their happiness. It is God calling you home. It is God calling you to a personal relationship. But more than that, it is a promise. It is God’s promise that if you would ask, seek, and knock your Heavenly Father is ready willing and able to enter your life and make a difference.
Let’s pray:
Thank you gracious Father, for the invitation to ask, seek and knock. And thank you for your promise to always answering. Through Jesus Christ your son our lord who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit One God now and forever. Amen

Wednesday’s Text: Psalm 82

1 God has taken his place in the divine council;
in the midst of the gods he holds judgment:
2 “How long will you judge unjustly
and show partiality to the wicked? Selah
3 Give justice to the weak and the orphan;
maintain the right of the lowly and the destitute.
4 Rescue the weak and the needy;
deliver them from the hand of the wicked.”
5 They have neither knowledge nor understanding,
they walk around in darkness;
all the foundations of the earth are shaken.
6 I say, “You are gods,
children of the Most High, all of you;
7 nevertheless, you shall die like mortals,
and fall like any prince.”
8 Rise up, O God, judge the earth;
for all the nations belong to you!
(NRSV)

Once again Scripture cries out for social justice. Once more the people of God are judged on how well they live out mercy. I think sometimes we have a tendency to want to reduce what it means to be a Christian to something personal and epistemic (knowledge). Yet, Scripture seems to insist that it is more communal and existential (experience). To be a Christian means we act justly; it means we rescue the weak and the needy; it means we maintain the right of the lowly and the destitute. We do so not because of some moral or ethical imperative, but because it is who we are. In the world of the Bible, there is no separation between the sacred and the secular. The only forum available for us to live out our Christian experience, our life of holiness, is in this world. That’s one of the truly unique things about Christianity. Oh, certainly we have the hope of the resurrection, we have the hope of a new heaven and a new earth, but our primary focus is not other-worldly; it is here and now. How can we live out justice for the weak and the orphan? How can we maintain the right of the lowly and the destitute? How can we rescue the weak and the needy? How can we deliver them from the hand of the wicked? You see, it is on how well we live out God’s justice and mercy and love that we will be judged.

Monday’s Text: Luke 10.25-37

25 Just then a lawyer stood up to test Jesus. “Teacher,” he said, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?” 26 He said to him, “What is written in the law? What do you read there?” 27 He answered, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself.” 28 And he said to him, “You have given the right answer; do this, and you will live.”
29 But wanting to justify himself, he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?” 30 Jesus replied, “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell into the hands of robbers, who stripped him, beat him, and went away, leaving him half dead. 31 Now by chance a priest was going down that road; and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. 32 So likewise a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. 33 But a Samaritan while traveling came near him; and when he saw him, he was moved with pity. 34 He went to him and bandaged his wounds, having poured oil and wine on them. Then he put him on his own animal, brought him to an inn, and took care of him. 35 The next day he took out two denarii, gave them to the innkeeper, and said, ‘Take care of him; and when I come back, I will repay you whatever more you spend.’ 36 Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?” 37 He said, “The one who showed him mercy.” Jesus said to him, “Go and do likewise.”
(NRSV)

The story of the Good Samaritan is such a well known story. Even folks who would never darken a church door know the story. “Good Samaritan” has become a sort of euphemism for helping someone out of a desperate or awkward situation. But the story outside of the context, turns the story into something different than what Jesus meant it to be. It turns it into some sort of moral lesson, some ethical fable mean to teach us how to treat one another. And while that may not be a bad thing, it missing something of the real issue. The issue at stake here is eternal life. The lawyer asked Jesus “What must I do to inherit eternal life?”

Now while some folks may chide him for asking a question which would seem to imply that eternal life is a reward for something we do, I personally feel that that is a somewhat anachronistic reading of the text. I believe it is a fair question; even an honest one. It’s interesting, but Luke’s gospel is the only that records this, the greatest commandment, as coming from someone other than Jesus. In all the other gospels Jesus is asked which is the greatest commandment, and he answers with the Shema. Here, though, Luke turns things around; he puts the words of the divine command in the month of an ordinary person. But Luke does that. He brings the divine into the grit and grime of this world more than any of the other evangelist. And that’s one reason why I think this was a legitimate question. Luke didn’t see salvation as some disembodied spiritual experience void of any sort of physical involvement on our part. We have a part to play. Randy Maddox’s entitled his theology of John Wesley as Responsible Grace for precisely that reason. Grace may indeed be free, but it implies responsibility. Though we can do nothing to earn our salvation that does not mean salvation is passive. And that’s where the story of the Good Samaritan comes in.

While the lawyer asked Jesus, “Who is my neighbor?” Jesus asks “Who was a neighbor?” Jesus turns the whole thing around. When we seek to define exactly who is our neighbor and who isn’t we are in essence trying to decide just how far do we need to love. We want to know where is the line? How far is far enough? Jesus turns it around saying that it’s not a matter of trying to decide who is and who is not our neighbor. The point is you be a neighbor. And that means there is no line. There is no limit. Mercy extends equally and ubiquitously to everyone. Eternal life is not only about what we inherit after we die. It is the condition of how we live our life right now—in the grit and the grime of this world.

Friday’s Text: Galatians 6.7-16

7 Do not be deceived; God is not mocked, for you reap whatever you sow. 8 If you sow to your own flesh, you will reap corruption from the flesh; but if you sow to the Spirit, you will reap eternal life from the Spirit. 9 So let us not grow weary in doing what is right, for we will reap at harvest time, if we do not give up. 10 So then, whenever we have an opportunity, let us work for the good of all, and especially for those of the family of faith.

11 See what large letters I make when I am writing in my own hand! 12 It is those who want to make a good showing in the flesh that try to compel you to be circumcised—only that they may not be persecuted for the cross of Christ. 13 Even the circumcised do not themselves obey the law, but they want you to be circumcised so that they may boast about your flesh. 14 May I never boast of anything except the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world. 15 For neither circumcision nor uncircumcision is anything; but a new creation is everything! 16 As for those who will follow this rule—peace be upon them, and mercy, and upon the Israel of God.
(NRSV)

A new creation is everything… you reap what you sow… may I never boast of anything except the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ… these are what stand out for me in the text. And I have a feeling they are connected. Remember, Paul wrote Galatians to a group of Christians who were being influenced by a group of “judiazers” who tried to “bewitch” into believing that if they wanted to be really secure in their salvation they needed to follow the law. Paul’s argument is not one based on any sort of antinomian faith where what we do counts for nothing. Such an argument would be basically dualistic: our souls are saved, what we do with our bodies doesn’t matter. Instead Paul’s argument runs more along the lines of salvation being something holistic (body, soul, spirit) and ontological (being, substance). When we are saved by grace through faith, something substantive happens in us and to us. We are changed. The change is real (ontological). And it is that change that forms the basis of the new creation.

When Paul says “a new creation is everything” he is refereeing to individuals only as they are part of the greater whole—the kingdom of God. New creation is a communal and cosmic affair. Remember in Isaiah how he talked about a new heaven and a new earth? That’s the new creation Paul is talking about. The eschatological (end times) language of Isaiah finds fulfillment in Christ. In Christ the new creation is begun. In Christ the eschaton has arrived, though not fully actualized. And the way it has arrived is through the cross. Paul’s only source of boasting is in the cross of Christ. The cross turns everything upside down. It makes no sense. When we read Genesis one and the story of creation, we read about God’s power and majesty at work. God takes the tumultuous chaos of a formless void covered in deep darkness and brings order. God calls forth light and it comes, separates the light from the darkness, the land from the sea, the stars, the sun and the moon find their proper place at God’s beckoning. God brings forth life from the seas and the land, and out of a lump of clay creates humanity, breathing God’s own breath into the lungs of that first human. It’s beautiful, majestic, powerful; an account fitting the almighty God. Yet when God decided to bring forth a new creation, God chose to do so through a cross. If the Genesis account shows God’s power, the cross displays God’s vulnerability.

The new creation is still about power. It’s just a different kind of power. It’s the power of vulnerability, the power of self-giving, the power of risk. It is the power of humility. The new creation subversively works its way into our world from the bottom up. It is to the poor, the weak, and the marginalized that the gospel reaches. It is to the oppressed, the imprisoned, and the captive that the message of new creation becomes liberation and life. The new creation works through weakness so that we have no room to boast in our accomplishments. It comes through vulnerability in order that we can make ourselves vulnerable. It extends to all through God’s self-giving love so that we in turn can give ourselves away in love.

Thursday’s Text: Isaiah 66.10-14

10 Rejoice with Jerusalem, and be glad for her,
all you who love her;
rejoice with her in joy,
all you who mourn over her—
11 that you may nurse and be satisfied
from her consoling breast;
that you may drink deeply with delight
from her glorious bosom.
12 For thus says the LORD:
I will extend prosperity to her like a river,
and the wealth of the nations like an overflowing stream;
and you shall nurse and be carried on her arm,
and dandled on her knees.
13 As a mother comforts her child,
so I will comfort you;
you shall be comforted in Jerusalem.
14 You shall see, and your heart shall rejoice;
your bodies shall flourish like the grass;
and it shall be known that the hand of the LORD is with his servants,
and his indignation is against his enemies.
(NRSV)

Chapter 66 is the last chapter in the Book of Isaiah. Most biblical scholars see (at least) two separate movements in the book of Isaiah. The first part seems to warn against the result of continued disobedience. The second part is more positive, talking about God’s post-exilic restoration of Israel. As the second part (scholar refer to this as second Isaiah) moves along the tone shifts again to a more eschatological outlook as the author talks more and more about a new heaven and a new earth. These sorts of interpretive clues absolutely cannot be ignored when faithfully reading the biblical text.

This piece from Isaiah 66 talks both about Israel’s restoration and a coming day when God’s reign will be established on all the earth. It speaks of Israel becoming a blessing to all nations. It’s important for us to remember that when God elected Israel to be God’s special people, God did so with the intention of redeeming the world. Sometimes there’s this misguided notion that Israel’s election was an election to become separate, isolated, exclusive. God’s intention has always been much more cosmic in scale. When God separated Israel to Godself it was not that God turned God’s back on the rest of creation. God desired to bring about the new creation through Israel.

Perhaps there’s a lesson here for the church. Though I don’t agree with the idea that the church is the ‘new Israel’ (such ideas tend to lead to anti-Semitic tones and precluded Israel from being part of God’s people), I do see the church as a new people of God (one that includes the Israel—though differently and we don’t have space to develop that thought). As the church we are not so much saved from the world as saved for the world. Some ecclesiologists see the church’s essence as mission. If that’s so, then we need to answer the question, “What is mission?” Without ignoring or discounting many of the notions of mission as evangelism (‘winning people to Christ’), I would suggest that mission is also something much broader. Mission has to do with God’s desire to make all things new. It has to do with God’s Kingdom here on earth.

In his hymn, “A Charge to Keep I Have,” Charles Wesley says, “To serve the present age, / My calling to fulfill; / O may it all my pow’rs engage / To do my Master’s will!” As the church we are to serve the present age. Not some past age when things we “much better”, or some future age that has yet to be realized, but this present age. If we neglect that calling, we ignore God’s will for the church. Wesley’s hymn continues: “Help me to watch and pray, / And on Thyself rely, / Assured if I my trust betray / I shall forever die.” It seems Charles Wesley clearly understood the exigent nature of God’s calling to serve this present age.