Action Figure Jesus! A sermon given on January 31, 2010, the fourth Sunday of Epiphany by Ben Sternke from Luke 4:21-30.
As we finish our time of learning to pray from the psalms, we’ll focus on a well-known and well-loved one: Psalm 139. It’s an intimate conversation where David revels in God’s knowledge of his life. Every nook and cranny is opened up to God, nothing is hidden. The image is God knitting us together in the womb, protectively forming us from conception to adulthood. The images conjured in this Psalm paint God as a doting mother who cares deeply for her children.
One of the remarkable things about the Psalms – and David’s writing in particular – is the intimacy being expressed. The use of “I” and “You” represent two concepts previously unexplored in ancient literature: the personal voice and the intimate God. This is the same kind of deep intimacy we encounter in the prayers of Jesus.
As we wind down our time in the Psalms and our study of prayer in genera, this prayer by David from Psalm 86 seems to sum up many of the touch points in prayer we’ve visited.
Troubled over all the evil and injustice in the world? It’s hard not to be, because we’re aware of so much of it. Refugees running from murderous regimes. The slave trade is alive and well. People are “disappeared” all the time by corrupt governments. Torture is renamed “enhanced interrogation techniques” and becomes acceptable. And then there’s the complicated, tragic mess that is Haiti.
It’s overwhelming! Which seems to be why Psalm 37 is in the Bible. It has the potential to be an extremely irritating psalm, though, because it essentially tells us not to get so worked up over evil. The most annoying time to hear “don’t get angry” is when you’re angry. But there it is, three times in the first few verses:
“Don’t worry about the wicked” (1)
“Don’t worry about evil people” (7)
“Don’t lose your temper” (8)
Aren’t we supposed to be angry about the injustice in the world? Aren’t we supposed to care? What’s with all the don’t worry, be happy talk?
As Christians it’s common to think we’re not allowed to pray for ourselves and, even worse, we sometimes think our prayers are always supposed to be upbeat, thankful and grateful.
David knew better. He understood that prayer is supposed to be a raw form of communication with God, stripped of all pretense, and accordingly, he made good use of the ancient Jewish practice of lament. Consider Psalm 6:
Our final week of the prayer series will focus on learning to pray from the Psalms.
Today, read Psalm 19.
This psalm is a celebration of a God who speaks in both the skies (1-6) and the Scriptures (7-14). Most of us today can get our heads around the fact that God speaks through creation. But I would be surprised if many of us could really relate to David’s breathless praise for the Bible in these verses. More precious than gold? Sweeter than honey? Really?
A sermon from Christ Church’s worship gathering on January 24, 2010, given by Ben Sternke.
(This exercise was written by Jason Coker as part of our prayer journey with Ikon Community.)
Today we visit Jesus again in the garden (Matt 26:39-44), only this time we zoom out from his admonition to Peter and view, instead, with the wide lens that gives us a brief peek into his own prayer life:
Going a little farther, he fell with his face to the ground and prayed, “My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will.”
Then he returned to his disciples and found them sleeping. “Could you men not keep watch with me for one hour?” he asked Peter. “Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the body is weak.”
He went away a second time and prayed, “My Father, if it is not possible for this cup to be taken away unless I drink it, may your will be done.”
When he came back, he again found them sleeping, because their eyes were heavy. So he left them and went away once more and prayed the third time, saying the same thing.
There are three things about Jesus’ prayer that I envy: The first is that he is persistent. Three times he prays the same prayer, urgently petitioning God to give him relief. Frankly, I rarely do more than utter a half-hearted plea.
There is perhaps no greater example of Jesus in prayer than the lengthy, swirling “high-priestly prayer” recorded in John 17.
One of the striking things about this passage is that although Jesus is God in the flesh, he seems to rely heavily on prayer as a means of accomplishing God’s will. He doesn’t simply teach his disciples what the right way is or “fix” them in some “supernatural” way. He spends time praying to God the Father on their behalf, here in John 17 and many other places. The New Testament is also clear that the risen and ascended Jesus continues to pray for us (Rom 8:34; 1 John 2:1). Prayer is apparently still the way that God’s work gets done.
One example of this can be found in In Luke 22:31-32. Jesus foresees that Simon will be tested severely. Though Simon thinks he is ready to die with Jesus, he will find out that when it comes down to it, he will quickly, easily deny that he even knows Jesus. You would think Jesus would want to secure the future of the church by perhaps re-wiring Simon’s brain so that he responds differently, to somehow guarantee his eventual success. But he doesn’t. Instead, Jesus says, “Simon, Simon, Satan has asked to sift you as wheat. But I have prayed for you, Simon, that your faith may not fail. And when you have turned back, strengthen your brothers.” One would imagine that Jesus desperately wants Simon to pass the test, but instead of trying to engineer the outcome, he simply prays for him. It speaks volumes about Jesus’ trust in God that he sees prayer as the best thing he can do for Simon in this very crucial, dangerous time.
(This exercise was written by Jason Coker as part of our prayer journey with Ikon Community.)
Ever have something so important to do that you worked straight through lunch? That happens to me all the time. Actually, most of the people I know skip at least one meal a day because they’re so focused on something. In some ways that’s the climate of our culture.
Ever skip eating all day because you’re so busy? That happens less often, but still, my guess is you know what it’s like to go a whole day without really eating because something is so important – or distressing – that you just didn’t think about anything else.
What about all night?