Lessons:
Psalm 85
Luke 11:1-13
When
I was a child, my dad always had an office for his insurance business in our
basement. Usually my mother was around when he needed something typed, but
every now and then, Dad had to resort to typing something himself. At those times, he used what he called
the “gospel system” of typing. You
may have heard the old fashioned phrase “hunt and peck” to describe amateur
two-finger typing, and Dad’s gospel system was a variation of that. Dad typed
using what he called the “seek and ye shall find” method.
I
can’t read today’s lesson from Luke without being reminded of my dad and his
typing. As Americans, we seem to be a nation of seekers, always on the look-out
for the next big thing. The early settlers kept pushing the frontier farther
and farther west until we had filled this land from “sea to shining sea.” These
days our seeking may take some of us to the frontiers of space or space-age
scientific discovery. For most of us, our seeking just takes us to the mall,
looking for the next gadget or the best bargain. We are rarely satisfied enough with our lives to rest in
contentment.
I
don’t know about you, but this prevailing restlessness of our society often
leaves me feeling anxious. I
wouldn’t go so far as to say I’m always stricken with anxiety—there’s a pill
for that, and I’m not yet at the point of needed a prescription. (It’s not
surprising that many people do need such medication.) In my case, I can find myself treading water in an
undercurrent of anxious thoughts: Am I really able to handle this difficult
challenge at work? Are all of my loved ones safe and well? Will I run into that troublesome person
I’d rather avoid? If I do, what
should I say to him or her? Do I need to make an amends to someone for some
failing on my part? You may have experienced some of these same anxious
thoughts, and they may seem to be worth the stress they cost us. But I can also become anxious over what
to cook for dinner or where to park my car, and you may be familiar with those
stressers, too.
My
dad was born in 1912. Over the
course of his lifetime, he experienced changes that people of previous
generations could not possibly have grasped and would not have witnessed even
if they had lived to be hundreds of years old, like Methusaleh. My dad recalled traveling by
horse-drawn wagon to Graves Mill
as a child, with his mother at the reins as they forded five streams between
their house on South River and here. My grandfather Mark Haney was working as
the official blacksmith for the small-gauge lumber railroad here in the valley
at that time, and my grandmother regularly came to take him home or bring him
supplies. By the time my dad died in 1983, things previous generations had
thought to be impossible dreams had become realities: automobiles, airplanes, television,
the nuclear age, men on the moon, just to name a few. Since his death, computer
technologies have advanced at such an incredible rate that our laptops and cell
phones become obsolete within months. It’s no wonder that our rapidly changing
world leaves so many of us feeling discombobulated. There is a constant impetus
to update and upgrade!
In
his book Breathing Under Water,
Franciscan priest Richard Rohr asserts that our American culture as a whole is
addictive by nature. Our
common anxieties arise from our addictions to everything from television to
online social media to shopping to food (especially sweets) to body image to
social status. We can so easily be caught up in an endless pursuit of
self-gratification. Maybe as
individuals we are less addicted than others in some of these areas. But are we
truly free of any of these addictions? I’m willing to admit that I’m not, and
it’s a very uncomfortable admission.
If
the primary urge that drives us is the need to satisfy some addiction or
another, we are clearly not doing the kind of seeking Jesus means when he says,
“Ask, and it will be given you; search, and you will find.” What is it that He
calls us to seek? How can we overcome our restless, addictive striving and
replace it with inner peace?
The
parts of today’s gospel lesson contain signposts from Christ. In the first
part--Luke 11, verses 1 through 4—Jesus is teaching his disciples how to pray,
and the prayer we know as the Lord’s prayer is a simple, everyday one that
asks for God’s blessing in the form of our “daily bread,” that instructs
us to forgive one another as we ask God’s forgiveness, that requests
God’s help in avoiding temptation, that prays for God’s will (not ours)
to be done. In the easy-to-overlook phrase “your kingdom come,” Jesus tells us
to welcome God’s presence with us on earth.
In
verses 5 through 8, Jesus tells a story about a man knocking on his neighbor’s
door late at night and asking for bread.
Jesus points out that the annoyed neighbor may not give in to his
friend’s request for help on the first knock, but if the knocking goes on and
on, he may finally arise and heed the request just to end the commotion. The message
of this story is to pray with persistence. Keep praying!
In
verses 9 through 13, Jesus tells us how our prayers and seeking will be
rewarded: the Heavenly Father will “give the Holy Spirit to those who ask for
him.” What does it feel like to
have that Holy Spirit residing in our hearts? As Christians we have all surely had the experience, as
fleeting as it may have been, of peace of mind and spirit, knowing the Lord was
with us and within us. The
question for us, as we swim upstream in our addictive society, is how do we
hold onto that peace? How do we
more consciously and more continually make ourselves aware of God’s presence?
We pray with
thanksgiving. We pray with love. We pray when we are worried and in need of
help. Most of all, we pray with
persistence.
Paul admonishes us
in Philippians 4, “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Let
your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Do not worry about
anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let
your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all
understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”
Amen.
