Sermons

 Treacherous Intimacy

Roderic P. Frohman	Third Presbyterian Church
January 31, 2010	Luke 11: 1-13

“So I say to you, ask and it will be given you, seek and you will find, knock and the door will be opened.” (Luke 11:9)

Almost everyone has spent a sleepless night or a portion thereof. My wife Marcia and I will never forget the sleepless night of July 14, 1995. It was almost 15 years ago, but it seems like yesterday. Eight members of our Minneapolis church youth group, on a mission trip with a rural congregation in the high country in Fairplay, Colorado, had been involved in a serious van accident at dusk outside of town. Only youth were in the van, two of whom were our daughters. All eight were injured. From the police report we eventually learned that 13-year old Erika Palmquist had been evacuated from the crash site by helicopter down the mountain to Colorado Springs. We did not know the severity of the injury to Erika or the severity of the injuries to the other seven. Seven were being taken to the hospital by ambulance. We knew that the seven were not seriously injured, but how serious is “not serious?” Did that mean broken bones, abrasions, and contusions? How seriously injured was the girl in the helicopter?

I began to prepare my words over the phone to distraught parents, “Your daughter has been involved in a car accident and she is in the intensive care unit at Penrose Hospital in Colorado Springs. She is not expected to live.” It was perhaps the longest road trip Marcia and I have ever driven that night—time journey from Fairplay to Colorado Springs. My thoughts turned to prayer, silent and sometimes out loud. We traveled the entire two and one-half hours mostly in silence, interrupted by sighing too deep for words. Whenever words came to consciousness it was, “No Lord, do not let it be bad... Be with the doctors and the nurses who attend these kids, give them keen minds and accurate diagnostic skills. Lord do not let it be bad.” It was a very helpless feeling. Norm, an elder in the small Fairplay Presbyterian Church, heard the original police report on his citizen band radio and came to offer support before we left. “You just have to give it all over to God,” he counseled me. All the way to the hospital his words kept ringing in my ears. I was not ready to give anything over to God so I kept on nagging God, “Lord, do not let it be bad. Keep those docs and nurses alert. Make them see their own children in the eyes of these youth.” I was afraid, I was very afraid. We were tottering on the precipice of tragedy.

Anyone who has been awake, afraid, and alone at night has done some form of praying. The saying, “There are no atheists in foxholes” is true. People who are awake at night with their fears talk to God in some form, be it silent meditation, whisper, cry, shout, and even curse.

After the dark night of the soul is over and darkness turns to dawn, the demanding of answers from God tends to slow down but not stop. As hellacious as was the dark night we knew, strangely, almost perversely, that we had spent some quality time with the Divine. It was a treacherous intimacy.

After the dark night of the soul is over we realize, treacherous or not, we were in touch with God like we had not been in touch for a long time. We want the intimacy with God to continue, but without the treachery. We would like to continue in some form of divine encounter, some connection, some form of prayer. But how, how do we pray? Jesus would suggest, be a nag about it.

In today's gospel lesson we have the odd placement of four independent stories which the gospel editor has purposefully sandwiched together. They are: Luke’s short Lord's Prayer, followed immediately by the telling of a story about an importunate neighbor, followed by the knocking sayings, followed by a strange analogy about scorpions, children and God.

Luke’s first juxtaposition of the short Lord’s Prayer and the story of the importunate neighbor are most telling. We are supposed to pray to God like the rude person who wakes up his neighbor in the middle of the night and demands food.

Imagine that you are startled awake by loud knocking. At first you are very afraid, thinking home invasion, or something awful. When you get to the door it is just your zany, but demanding neighbor, you know, the one with the plastic nativity set. ”Hey, my fraternity brother is coming into town in a couple of hours,” he declares. “My fridge is empty. Can you lend me that chicken in your freezer and that potato salad I saw you buy at Wegmans yesterday?” We think to ourselves, “Why doesn't the bloke just go to a 24-hour market and buy the stuff himself?” But you admire his persistence and so you send him off with the groceries and toss in a bottle of wine for the party.

Persistent prayer, changes things. Jesus is telling us to pray importunately. The squeaky prayer wheel gets the divine grease! Formal prayer, like the kind we do here in worship, is a good a decent thing. I happen to prefer it. But apparently formal prayer has nowhere the effect of becoming a squeaky wheel to God. Jesus is telling his disciples in effect, “Don’t stand on ceremony! Be a pain in the neck! Don't let God sleep until God gives you what you need.”

Of course we could mistake our wants with our needs and nag God about money, power, fame, or victory in the Super Bowl. (And now that the Vikings are out of it, I really don’t care.) This is clearly not what Jesus or the Gospel writer has in mind because immediately following the demanding neighbor story is yet another odd editorial choice, the small bit about what to give children who nag for their needs.

Does a parent turn a deaf ear to the child's nagging? Well, yes, after a fashion. Perhaps it is more accurate to say that a parent practices selective listening. The parent has the responsibility of sorting out from among the child's many expressed wants those things that are harmless enough to be granted or those that constitute real needs.

So it is in prayer. Again the odd juxtaposition is purposeful. God will no more give us harmful things than would a human parent give harmful things like snakes or scorpions to his or her children. Contrary to what Pat Robertson thinks, God is not punishing the Haitians with and earthquake for what ever reason. Christ’s promise is that prayer for needs will always be fulfilled in the most efficacious ways. This is the sort of thing God wants to be nagged about. God wants to be awakened in the middle of the night by this kind of outcry.

There are two common reactions to such a proposition that we should nag God with our prayers. (Kairos Sermon Notes) The first is the so-called “humble” reaction.

Some people would say,

“I have no right to do this. I am such a sinner, such a nothing, such a nobody. Besides God isn't really interested in my little problems anyway.” This is not humility, but rather the subtlest kind of pride, because it is saying to God,

“You are wrong about me, I cannot be that brazen. I am not worthy to be served.”

Maybe that is the image we like to keep of ourselves, even protect. It keeps us from getting too intimate or too dependent upon God. Because what if our nagging prayer were actually answered? Then we would no longer be the captains of our own fate. Then we might have to actually acknowledge our interdependence upon God, which leads us to the flip side of the coin of this “I-am- not- worthy” false humility, the subtle arrogance of rugged independence. This is the person who needs no one, the one immortalized in the words of Simon and Garfunkel, “I am a rock, I am an island. A rock feels no pain and an island never cries.” Jesus is saying that we not only have a right to be a nag to God but an obligation to ask, seek and knock. Because when we are not asking, not seeking, not knocking then we are not running the risk of being turned down and we have lost touch with God.

A second reaction to the idea of nagging God is fear. Exactly what are we afraid of? Do we think that God is some sort of supernatural baseball pitcher who is going to throw us a curve the moment we ask for something in order to have the divine delight of striking us out? Is the divine initiative a trick to create dependence? This is why Jesus asks, “Is there anyone among you who if your child asks for a fish will give a snake instead? Or if the child asks for an egg will give a scorpion?” Jesus asks, “Is that the way you think God is going to deal with you? Deliberately sting you?”

We cannot stand passively in the middle of the street and watch or wait for the doors of the Kingdom of God to open of their own accord. We must sincerely desire the doors to open and this sincerity is exhibited when we are ready to ask, seek, knock pound on those doors. This means we must commit, we must dare.

But there is a catch. No one can do this for us. Prayer cannot be done for us by others. While we can be prayed for, the truth is that we must also learn to pray for ourselves, to ask for what we need and go after it, to nag God about it.

So how do we pray? Jesus gives us the example in the Lord's Prayer. Did you ever think about how many times God has actually heard the Lord’s Prayer? Maybe seven quadrillion. Surely God must regard its frequent use as complete nagging. I mean just as soon as we are done saying it here in Rochester on Sunday morning somebody in California is picking it up. Then when they are done somebody in Kenya on Monday is just beginning. I mean really, the frequent use of the Lord’s Prayer has to be kind of annoying to God. I wonder how many times God has said, “Yes,… I have heard that one before.”

The Lord's Prayer is an act of treacherous intimacy with God. It must be prayed importunately, over and over again because it does not take effect very easily. Why not? Our basic human instinct is to go in the opposite direction with our lives. “Hallowed be MY name. MY kingdom come. MY will be done. Forgive ME but not my enemies. I will accept no divine challenges or trials because they are not part of my agenda. I don’t have time for them. I refuse to learn how to live with trials.”

But with this prayer of our Lord we can persist. We can knock on the door of God’s kingdom and ask to be heard because we have been not only invited to do so, but also urged, even commanded. Never stop asking! Never stop knocking! Never stop seeking! Go for it! Even be brazen about it! Be a nag. God gives us the right to break down the doors of heaven to be heard! How do I know this is true? Because this is what I learned on the way to the hospital in Colorado Springs on that dark night of the soul, fifteen years ago.

Oh, I almost forgot. Remember Erika? The 13-year-old girl who was med-evacuated to the hospital by helicopter? She is now the mother of a one-year old.