|
October 21, 2007 Rev. Steve Gehlert "Hasn't got a prayer!" We've all heard the phrase; sometimes, we've even said it. We've heard it said about the poor or oppressed, those without resources or power, caught in seemingly hopeless circumstances. Though I've not said those exact words, I've certainly thought them when I've observed the poor, outcast, or powerless. Thought them about some who come to Lunch on Us at Miller Avenue. Or about IHN guests, as I wondered how they'll ever overcome all life has stacked against them? Or about the kids at Ponca Creek as I've watched how life crushes their dreams. Or about those who've become homebound, whose abilities are failing, and whose family have either moved away or forgotten them. There's reason to think lots of people "haven't got a prayer." Strange, though, Jesus' disciples were from the margins of society. They were the poor, oppressed, outcast, and powerless, about whom others would've said, "Hasn't got a prayer." Given their status, lack of resources and power, there would've seemed to be little hope for their prayers. Jesus' though, thought otherwise. Why? Why would Jesus want them to believe that they "had a prayer?" Because they did! - as he tried to show them in this parable about a poor widow. Widows were powerless. A widow couldn't inherit her husband's estate; it passed on to his sons or brothers. If they didn't show her justice, a judge was her only hope. Unfortunately, many judges didn't care and were more apt to rule for the powerful men. If anyone didn't have a prayer, it was a widow. So, for Jesus' disciples, a story about a widow with no power or influence and a judge with no compassion would've seemed like "business as usual." They probably assumed that justice would be denied again. But, surprise! In this story the widow's persistence pays off. Justice triumphs! Luke says the point of the story is not to lose heart. Even those who "don't have a prayer" really do. Because if persistence can wear down even an uncaring judge, we can certainly we expect God to do what's right. God so much more! God cares more than any of us. The only prayer anyone has is that God cares more than we do and so answers prayer with more care than we show each other. Amazing! How little care we show each other. Amazing how, though, if we thought even a minute about it, we'd sense what the prayers of others might be: for food, shelter, work, healthcare, or just respect. Yet we don't add our prayers for these things to theirs, much less work so they might be answered. Because those who "haven't got a prayer" about these things are largely invisible to us, or there's something about them that enables us to tell ourselves that they're not worth our worry, or our prayers, much less our work to alleviate their plight. I guess it's our nature to draw lines, make distinctions, put up barriers, so that we can be with those who are most like us and with whom we're most comfortable, those who require the least patience, understanding, or nurture. That happens even in the church. And, as it was with Jesus disciples, it happens most often with young people. Even, Jesus' disciples, who were largely poor, marginalized, oppressed people, thought there was some group they were better than and didn't need to tolerate. That's why, when people brought children to Jesus, the disciples wanted to send them away. Kids get restless, impatient, fussy! Kids need guidance and nurture. Why should they, involved as they were on this spiritual journey with God's messiah, have to bother with such things? Besides, they were familiar, comfortable with each other; why upset all that? They'd been doing the discipleship trip for several years, they'd earned the right to say who could go with them and who couldn't. If they didn't want to accept kids, they shouldn't have to. Kids didn't have a prayer with the disciples. But Jesus responded, "Let the children come, don't hinder them; because God's Kingdom belongs to such as these." If you don't think there's a place in God's family for children, then you don't know what God's family is. God's family is where childlike trust, innocence, and vulnerability rule. You'd better learn that. In fact, "If you don't become like a child, you won't enter God's kingdom." But though we've heard this, we still draw lines, make distinctions, put up barriers. As a new pastor here, the 1st change I suggested, was to have kids stay in worship through the children's message, not just on family Sunday, but weekly. Worship is central to our life as God's people; we need to do it as a family that accepts, loves, and welcomes the gifts of all, young or old. That's not possible if all aren't included and all aren't willing to make sacrifices in order to welcome and nurture everyone. For some, it was a very difficult request. They were afraid, afraid that unruly children would make their worship more difficult. And you know, given the powerlessness of children, even in the church, our kids wouldn't "have had a prayer" about being able to worship weekly with us if others hadn't made including them, their prayer, and been willing to speak up about it. With our focus on what and whom we're most comfortable with, it's always tempting to want to arrange things so that some "don't have a prayer" about being included or welcomed. Sue didn't begin attending church till she was 12. Though she'd missed out on a lot, one thing that meant is that she didn't take church for granted. She appreciated what a gift it was to be welcomed, accepted, and affirmed. Her church became her family; she was grateful for them and loved to be with them. She was there as much as possible. Car, bus, bike, whatever it took to get there. She got involved everywhere: meal program, Bible School, camp, nursery, choir, Youth mission trip. She did it all with quiet, grateful, enthusiasm. And she developed a heart for service, for mission. So when she heard about another Mission Trip, she wanted to go on that one, too, even though it cost much more. So she started working right away to earn money. She was excited! She believed her church would be too. She believed that her desire to serve would be welcomed and supported. But she was wrong. What she'd experienced in one part of the church wasn't true of it all. Like the first disciples who tried to claim a right to exclude the young from Jesus' mission, some in her church said they had the right to exclude younger members from this one. They didn't know her, so they were afraid of what her youthful presence might mean. They didn't think about affirming her heart for mission or nurturing her discipleship, or how keeping her from going might wound her heart. That they might have something to learn from her love for the church and her desire to serve, wasn't on their radar screen at all. Nor was the thought that that they themselves, with their attitudes and behaviors, might require patience from others. If only we all could see how much we, ourselves, try God's patience, how much God has to put up with our shortcomings, how much God has to endure, simply to not give up on us. We truly "would not have a prayer," if God didn't treat us with more compassion and care, patience and grace, than we show each other. If we could recognize that, we'd be more likely to deal with others with more grace. If we could recognize that, we'd be more likely to make the prayers of others our own. We'd be more likely to do all we could so their prayers would be answered, not just by God, but also by us. In Britain 200 years ago, the abolition of slavery "didn't have a prayer." But William Wilberforce made this seemingly hopeless cause his own. As a young Member of Parliament, he had no special interest in faith or justice. Then one Easter, a powerful religious experience changed gave him a new sense of purpose, and he saw his place in Parliament not so much as a career but as God's calling. He set his mind on the cause of abolition, and began to pray and act to bring it about. Victory wasn't easy. Powerful vested interests fought against him. Someone with less determination would have given up. But prayer gave him a sense of purpose that carried him through endless setbacks, sustained his determination and belief that, against all odds, change must eventually come. Whether the need is on an individual or societal level, too often justice is frustrated by structures of power. Desire for comfort and ease, position or power, create resistance to justice not only in society but even in the church. So, many people get worn down and give up. That's why we can be inspired by Jesus' story of a widow who wouldn't stop pleading her cause before an unjust judge and a politician who refused to take "no" for an answer from the uncaring. How does this help us understand prayer? If, as Jesus says, God's not like the unjust judge—not uncaring, corrupt, or lazy - then why do we need to pray repeatedly until we get a result? First, because prayer shapes us as we pray. Repeated prayer gradually tests and sifts what you believe is really important and what's not. If something doesn't matter that much, the momentum for prayer will diminish. But if it does matter, an unanswered prayer becomes like grit in an oyster—something that worries and annoys you until you are determined not to take no for an answer. Second, because prayer connects us with action. Like Wilberforce, the widow needed justice that private prayer alone would not deliver. We aren't called to pray passively, hoping that God will change the world on our behalf. Prayer may be the wind at our backs, but sometimes we need to track down the answer in person. As the African proverb says, "When you pray, move your feet." Wilberforce wrote, "My walk is a public one;" so was the widow's. Daily banging on the judge's door must've given rise to gossip among the neighbors as to why she came back so often. Eventually the judge was either embarrassed or annoyed into action, and she got justice. Her story seems to blur the distinction between petitioning in prayer and petitioning as action. Pray and keep on praying; ask and keep on asking; don't take no for an answer. And rattle plenty of cages until the answer comes. Jesus taught that prayer isn't just a private matter. It's not personal therapy or a crutch for the weak. It's about refusing to believe that the way things are has to be the way they'll always be, about imagining how the world could be, and gaining the wisdom and the energy to bring it about. For some, like Wilberforce, this applies to issues of international justice. For others, like the widow, it means chipping away at the dozens of little injustices that diminish ordinary people's lives. For churches, it means remembering our purpose in making disciples, and refusing to allow any to be excluded from being nurtured in discipleship. Either way, prayer makes us refuse to accept a system that deals out injustice and gives us the determination to see it change. As Bruce Cockburn says in the song "Lovers in a Dangerous Time," you have to "kick at the darkness until it bleeds daylight." |
More Sermons |
Return to Main Page |
|