Pastor Tom Johnson, October 16, 2022
This morning we are reminded again that prayer is a struggle. I don’t mean that it is a struggle to find time to pray, though it can be. I don’t mean that it is a struggle to have the strength to pray, though it can also be. I mean that prayer is a struggle. In our Scripture from Genesis, Jacob literally wrestles with God. It was such an intense match, that God ripped Jacob’s hip out of its socket. I wrestled in junior high and high school. This is not collegiate wrestling. It’s more like mixed martial arts. Jacob realizes that he just had a bare-fisted, limb-twisting, hip socket-snatching fight with the Lord Almighty. Side note: this is likely the pre-incarnate Christ—the eternal Son of God Jacob is wresting. Jacob is amazed that he lived to tell about it. In other words, it was no struggle for God. God’s sense of humor is that he says Jacob prevailed. He let Jacob live. Jacob’s trophy is that he gets to limp for the rest of his life. God also gives him a new name: Yīsra’el. It means “wrestles with God.” All of his children, great-grandchildren, his descendants, and the nation even to this day are known as Yīsra’el—those who wrestle with God. It is a constant reminder that our relationship with God through prayer can often be a struggle.
Sometimes I wonder if some of our hymns and well-crafted prayers don’t do us a disservice. Prayer is not always clean, poetic, beautiful, and heartwarming words. Prayer can be messy. Prayer can be us contending and challenging God. Prayer can be our pouring out our worst thoughts, fears, and cries to him. Like it was for Jacob, prayer can be an all-out altercation with the Creator of the universe.
I remember hearing the prayers of Tevye in the musical Fiddler on the Roof. Tevye is a poor Jewish farmer struggling through life. Tevye prays to God after his horse has an accident and can no longer work.
Dear God, was that necessary? Did you have to make him lame just before the Sabbath? That wasn’t nice. It’s enough you pick on me. Bless me with five daughters, a life of poverty, that’s all right. But what have you got against my horse? Really, sometimes I think, when things are too quiet up there, you say to yourself, ‘Let’s see, what kind of mischief can I play on my friend, Tevye?
I remember laughing while at the same time feeling a little uncomfortable with this prayer. That may be too honest with God! But God knows our prayers long before we utter them, Scripture says. He intimately knows the thoughts and intentions of every human heart. God is not surprised. He is not offended. God loves to hear Tevye’s prayers. God loves Tevye’s horse more than Tevye loves his horse. And Tevye is still talking to God as a friend.
This is the point of Jesus story of the unrighteous judge. He neither fears God or respects other human beings. He only gives her what she wants because he is sick and tired of hearing from her and just wants her to go away. The point of the parable is that God is not like the unrighteous judge. He does not get sick of hearing from the widow. Jesus is telling a ridiculous story of a narcissistic leader to make us laugh at ourselves and laugh at our ridiculous view of God. Our Scripture says that Jesus tells this parable so that we will understand our need to always pray and not to lose heart in doing so. This story is about being encouraged to pray—without ceasing. Jesus tells this story so that we would be assured that God is not the jerk we sometimes think he is. Do you want to pray to the jerk in Jesus’ parable or to the true, living, and loving God?
If we view God as the great narcissist of the universe—if we see him as being disgusted with us and all humanity—if we see him as detached, uncaring, unloving—if we see him as not giving a rip about our struggles—we will lose heart. We will not pray. We will not be drawn to God in prayer. We will neglect him because we will think he first neglected us. The German Reformer Martin Luther said that Jesus taught us to begin our prayers with “Our father” because God wants us to come to him as a dearly loved child would come to their dearly loved parent.
When I was in seminary in Dallas, I used to visit teenagers at risk of gang involvement with other seminary student named Wilfred Sewodie. Wilfred was a fiery preacher from the Volta River region Ghana. He loved the Lord. He was passionate about other African students not trying to make a career in the United States but going back to their homelands to build up the church. One night while Wilfred was out learning to drive to get his license, a drunk driver fleeing the police crashed into Wilfred’s car and instantly killed him. We were all devastated at our loss. At his funeral, two students got up to speak. They explained why Wilfred died. They explained that God was going to open up a bigger door for the Gospel through this here in Dallas and there in West Africa. I was mad. I was angry at the students for trying to put a little bandaid on a devestating wound to my faith. I was already mad at God for allowing it to happen. I spent months struggling in my thoughts and prayers.
I still have no answer as to why God is the Great Allower of things that are difficult to understand. It still makes no sense to me that God would call Wilfred home before he had time to give his life in years of ministry. After spending months of silence between me and God, I let God have it. I don’t remember the words but I do remember saying several well-placed colorful words—the kind of words my mother would have washed my mouth out. I told God what I really thought of him, of allowing Wilfred to die, and of allowing those students to get up at his funeral and sugar-coat my pain and grief. And that is when it happened. I felt a peace that transcends comprehension wash over me. I remembered how much Wilfred loved the Lord, his gigantic white smile with his long black finger pointing up to heaven. God loves Wilfred more than I do. Jesus wept at Lazarus’ funeral even though he knew he was to raise him. Jesus weeps for us and with us.
God wants us to throw down the gauntlet with him in prayer. And, I believe, he loves it. God loves it when we can be vulnerable and real with him. It means we trust him. We know we are safe with him—that he is a friend to sinners. As Scripture says, “Cast all your anxieties—all your burdens upon him because he cares for you” (1 Peter 5:7). He loves it when we take his promises in Scripture and make them into prayers. “Jesus, you said you give a peace that the world cannot give—a peace that surpasses understanding; give me that peace now.” “God you promise not to leave us as an orphans or forsake us; assure us of your presence, your love, and your tender care.” Give us the boldness to keep it real with you as you kept it real with your Heavenly Father; when you said, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?!” …when you laid down your life in prayer to give us the assurance of forgiveness, eternal life, and that you are the benevolent God we need and who truly cares.
What a friend we have in Jesus, all our sins and griefs to bear!
What a privilege to carry ev’rything to God in prayer!
Oh, what peace we often forfeit; oh, what needless pain we bear—
All because we do not carry ev’rything to God in prayer!
(“What a Friend We Have in Jesus,” LBW 439 v. 1)
No comments:
Post a Comment