A Meditation on the Lord’s Prayer
Luke 11:1-13
We don’t know how to pray.
But it’s part of what we do every sunday. It’s part of what we do when we’re in trouble, or when we are concerned about someone, or when we are really grateful. We utter, “God. Help them.” “Jesus Christ, be present.” “Thank you, God.”
But I don’t always think about why I pray or what the purpose is. I certainly don’t have a formula for it. I do it reflexively.
About six years ago, Jason, a friend to many in this congregation, was dying of leukemia. He had two very young kids, and at the time that we were called together to pray for him, he only had a few weeks to live.
His wife and the folks at a nearby Mennonite church, where Jason attended, called us together and we together asked God to heal Jason. I went to the prayer service a little dubious. I wasn’t sure how I felt about this kind of praying. But I went.
It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. Sitting in that room, asking God to heal Jason. I didn’t know if I could believe that it was possible. I remember leaning over to a friend and asking, “Do we really believe God can do this?”
We don’t know how to pray, or why we do it.
I don’t know how to pray. And I don’t always understand the point of it.
And I take some consolation in that, because the disciples didn’t know how to pray either. They asked Jesus, even after following him for quite some time–Lord, teach us how to pray.
It wasn’t like it was it was their first week with Jesus–they’d been following him, learning from him for some time. And in all that time with Jesus, they still had not grasped it. So, they asked Jesus to teach them how to pray.
There were other teachers out there that were praying–there is a reference to praying in the way of John the Baptist. Rabbis had certain ways of praying. And Jesus disciples’ wanted to know how to pray in the way of Jesus, their Rabbi and teacher.
And so Jesus taught them. He said, “Pray like this”
Abba God, hallowed be your name!
May Your reign come.
Give us today tomorrow’s bread.
Forgive us our sins, for we too forgive everyone who sins against us;
and don’t let us be subjected to the Test.’”
God, may your name be holy
May your reign come
Give us what we need to live
Forgive us and help us to forgive
Save us from trials and tests.
Here’s what I notice about this prayer–these are all things that are true whether we pray or not. God’s name is holy, whether we treat is as holy or not. God’s reign is here, whether or not we ask for it. God cares about our needs whether we ask for them to be met or not. God has already forgiven us, whether or not we ask.
These are prayers for a present reality.
And these are the prayers of the followers of Jesus. They are a confession of the current and future reality. They are an affirmation of what is and what will be, and they speak into the difficulty in our ability to see it.
This prayer is a liturgy. This is what we do in worship every week. We praise, we confess, we proclaim, we share, and we pray so that we will turn our hearts away from the principalities and powers and towards our true God, towards the one who is really in charge of things.
We pray so that our sights can be set on what is true and good and right.
We pray so that we have the eyes to see what is real, what is already here.
Jason wasn’t healed from his leukemia because we gathered to pray. At least, he wasn’t healed in the way I wanted him to be. The more I know about life and death, the more I think that with death comes healing of other kinds. But what I saw as we gathered to pray was a community leaning into God, and God leaning into the hurting people that surrounded Jason and his family. I saw a glimpse that day of the reign of God, present and future, in the people gathered to pray. God leaned in, listened to our prayer, and showed us the heart of God as we prayed.
Let us pray without ceasing, living into the hope and reality of God’s reign, of God’s provision, of God’s forgiveness now and forevermore. AMEN.