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Creekside Church
Sermon of July 29,
2001
"Our Father"
Luke
11:1-13
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Rev. David
Bibbee
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In the
gospels, the disciples are not always portrayed in flattering
ways. They consistently don't get what Jesus teaches them.
Yet in the text before us they are on to something. They
were perceptive enough to see a connection between what
Jesus did and how he prayed. For every hour of action, he
spent three in prayer, and this awareness created for the
disciples a desire. "Lord, teach us to pray."
Jesus
did not give them a theological discourse on the nature,
substance, and societal implications of prayer. He said,
"When you pray, this is what you say
'Our Father
'"
You know the rest. Almost everyone knows a piece of it given
all the times the Lord's Prayer has been prayed and recited
in a multitude of settings. Our Father. The words are invoked
in worship of every persuasion. We hear the prayer in ceremonies
at birth, baptism, and burial. It is prayed at Alcoholics
Anonymous meetings, in monasteries, and by the military
before battle. It is prayed in private devotions and at
the inauguration of heads of state. It is heard in civic
ceremonies like a bridge dedication, or in locker rooms.
I watched a documentary about the season of a high school
basketball team. Minutes before a pivotal game, the coach
gave an impassioned "Let's get fired up" speech
which was seasoned with numerous expletives which were bleeped
from the audio. "Now let's get out there and BLEEP
their BLEEP!" The team then formed a tight circle as
the coach said, "Let's pray
'Our Father
'"
The
most inspired words grow cold and stale through thoughtless
repetition. Our hearts get encrusted with Teflon which keeps
the substance from sticking. Jesus criticized the religion
of his own day for turning prayer into vain public recitation
that was all show and no substance.
Our
Father. You may be surprised to know the Lord's Prayer was
not spoken in public worship in the early church. It was
held in such awe and reverence that it was only taught to
those being prepared for baptism. It was the conviction
of the church that the prayer was too important to give
to people who did not understand it. The spirit of this
conviction has been expressed through the centuries in liturgical
churches where the Lord's Prayer is prayed only after the
priest prays:
"And
make us worthy, O Lord, that we joyously and without presumption
may make bold to call upon you, Father, and to say, "Our
Father
"
In those
first years of the church's existence, praying the prayer
marked you as a member of a new community. It was a subversive
and dangerous prayer, because pledging allegiance to anyone
but Caesar would get you killed. Pray it publicly today
and no one cares. This is why acquainting ourselves with
the meaning of the Lord's Prayer is so important. It's the
only prayer Jesus gave us. It's the prayer by which all
prayer is judged. It is God's gift to us-a touchstone to
which we return in order to order our priorities and deepen
our relationship with Him, which in turn deepens our relationship
with each other. There is no exhausting its power, Martin
Luther put it, "To this day I am still nursing on the
Lord's Prayer like a child, and am still eating and drinking
of it like an old man without getting bored with it."
In the
time I've been given, I want you to consider with me just
the first two words of the prayer. There's a lifetime of
learning contained in the words, "Our Father".
Look at that little, "our". We don't address God
as our God because we decided to strike up a relationship
with The Almighty. God is not ours because of anything we
have done. On our own we didn't have a clue of what to do
about our condition. Left to ourselves, we make golden calves,
we put our security in militarism, and we worship the almighty
dollar. The possibility of a relationship with God has nothing
to do with what we do or believe. Nothing. The scriptures
remind us, "You did not choose me, but I chose you
once
you were not a people, but now you are God's people."
God is ours because he revealed himself to us. Creating
a relationship was God's idea, not ours.
There
is another dimension of this little word our
one that
is not positive. Sitting at the dinner table when you were
a child, did your mother ever say to you, "We haven't
touched our brussels sprouts!" If I were a kid again
I would have a comeback. "Since they're our brussels
sprouts, I'll be generous and let you have mine."
In that
context ours meant mine. But I also think of times when
I wanted ours to be mine.
After
graduating from high school a friend and I looked for an
apartment in Columbus, Ohio where we were going to school
in the fall. Crunching the numbers, however, our fathers
thought it would be a less expensive enterprise to buy us
a car and have us commute the 40 miles to Columbus, instead.
They got us a new 1972 Pontiac Ventura. It was "our"
car. 50/50. I drove one week, Steve drove the next. When
I drove during the week, Steve got the car on the weekend.
For the next three months all went well. Then unforeseen
needs and special occasions arose. Steve wanted to go to
a concert in "our" car on "my" weekend.
I had a date and wanted "our" car on his weekend.
At the end of the school year we had enough of "our"
car. I wanted my own.
Our
culture teaches us to think individually. Care for yourself.
Fend for yourself. Pursue your own self-interests. Your
personal desires matter more that the desires of the group.
This way of thinking colors how we have prayed and related
to God. We manage to include the needs of others in our
prayers, but if we are honest, we will admit that most of
the time the focus of our prayer is upon us. When the subject
is our relationship with God, I immediately think of my
relationship. When the subject is faith, I think about my
faith. When the concern is problems in the life of prayer,
I think of my problems and what must be done to make it
right for me. My concerns, my needs, my faith, my future.
Think
of how often Christianity is commended on the basis of self-interest
and "what's in it for me". "Give yourself
to Jesus. He's the best deal you ever had." We hear
people speak of accepting Jesus as their "personal"
Lord and savior. I sometimes squirm when I hear this. Jesus
"is" Lord and savior. Yes, we have a personal
relationship with him. But it isn't just personal and it
is not a private experience. We hear people say, "Since
I met Jesus," as if it was a personal achievement.
The truth is, Jesus finds us, calls us, saves us, and doesn't
leave us to ourselves but places us in a community of people
committed to him. Nowhere in the Lord's Prayer will you
find the words I, me, my, and mine. It is ours and us. Jesus
didn't teach us, "My Father who art in heaven
give
me this day my daily bread." In do-it-yourself religions
all you need to do is get in touch with your better self,
or follow your own bliss, or be one with the elements of
nature, or sit in the lotus position and stare at the sunset.
You don't need anyone else. But Jesus saw fit to put us
in a community of people at different points on the journey
who are all joined by a commitment to live for him and like
him.
It has
been a long-held belief in the Church of the Brethren that
no one comes to faith apart from a brother or sister. Becoming
a Christian doesn't just dawn on you. It takes someone to
tell you the story. It takes someone to teach you. It takes
someone to invite you. It takes seeing others live it. It
takes someone who has struggled in life and made it through
on the strong wings of faith. It takes parents, grandparents,
Sunday school teachers, co-workers, and the Bible study
in a friends home to make us Christian. If I may alter the
title of a Beatles song
"We get by with "lots"
of help from our friends." These friends make up "our"
of Our Father.
Though
there's not time left to do it justice, let's talk about
the father of this prayer. Language is an imprecise tool
for describing big concepts. Even the best metaphors are
so inadequate in conveying the reality of God. No single
image will do it. Jesus called God, "Father."
He made the connection even more intimate by calling God,
"Abba," which means, "Daddy." Never
had anyone dared to address God in this way before. It was
as close as Jesus could get to describing his own relationship
to God and at the same time reveal the heart of God to us.
Not
everyone embraces father as a way of addressing God. Male
language has been used over the centuries to exclude and
exploit women. In recent years fatherhood has gotten a bum
rap. The courts are coming down on dead-beat dads. Many
people, maybe some of you here today, carry emotional scars
from an absent, abusive, or emotionally cold and distant
father. But we also must remember that not even the best
fathers are perfect. No matter how loving and caring, fathers
make mistakes.
After
the Lord's Prayer, Jesus told the parable of a man who knocks
at his neighbor's door at midnight wanting to borrow food
for some unexpected guests. "Do you know what time
it is? I'm not going to wake the whole house just because
you're low on groceries!" But the man keeps knocking
until his neighbor gives in and gives what he needs. Jesus
wasn't implying we must pester the Father to get what we
need. Jesus used a common teaching method of the "lesser
to the greater" to say that if a grouchy neighbor gives
you stale Wonder Bread, how much more will our loving Father
give what you need? If a child asks for a fish will a caring
father give her a cobra? If a child asks for an egg, will
a caring father say, "Have a scorpion instead."?
Of course not. How much more then will God give you.
As much
as they try, our earthly fathers can't give us everything
we need. Arthur Boers says that, "In calling God "Father",
Jesus wasn't stressing maleness, but relationship."
The Father cares for you more than you will know. He has
more for us than any mother, father, or biological family
can give. With deep emotion Lisa Vardaman stood here several
weeks ago and declared in her faith statement that this
church is her real family. When we pray "Our Father"
we are saying we belong to that unique family that has taught
us to pray and continues to pray with us throughout our
lives.
Jesus
said, "Call no one your father on earth, you have one
father-the one in heaven." We misunderstand him. We
forget that he is better than the best of fathers. We mistake
God for what he is not.
In an
old book called the "Maiden's Bequest",
a quiet orphan girl is terrified by a hell-fire preacher.
She visits Pastor Cowie and is reduced to tears. With deep
concern he asks:
Pastor:
"What's the matter dear?"
Stumbling
for words she told the story, though interrupted with much
weeping.
Annie:
"I went last night to the church to hear Mr. Brown.
And he preached a grand sermon. But I haven't been able
to be with myself since then. I am one of the wicked that
God hates, and I'll never get to heaven, for I can't help
forgetting him sometimes. And the wicked will be turned
into hell and all the nations that forget God. And I can't
stand it."
In the
good heart of Pastor Cowie arose a gentle indignation against
the overly pious who had terrified and bewildered that precious,
small child. He thought a moment and said:
Pastor:
"You haven't forgotten your father, have you Annie?"
Annie:
"I think about him most every day."
Pastor:
"But there comes a day now and then when you don't
think much about him, doesn't there?"
Annie:
"Yes, sir."
Pastor:
"Do you think he would be angry with his child because
she was taken up with her books and play? Do you think he
would be angry that you didn't think about him that day,
especially when you can't see him?"
Annie:
"Indeed, no sir
he wouldn't be so sore upon me
as that."
Pastor:
"What do you think he would say?"
Annie:
"If Mr. Bruce were to get after me for it, my father
would say 'Let the lassie alone. She'll think about me another
day
there's time enough.'"
Pastor:
"Well, don't you think your father in heaven would
say the same?"
Annie:
"Maybe he might, sir. But, you see, my father was my
own father, and he would make the best of me."
Pastor:
"And is not God kinder than your father?"
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