Unbelief
Give, and you will receive. Your gift will
return to you in full — pressed down, shaken together to make room for more,
running over, and poured into your lap. The amount you give will determine the
amount you get back. (Luke 6:38)
You sit in an ER
waiting room, surrounded by an anxious family. You rushed there the moment you
learned of the accident. The teenage son of your neighbor was injured in a car
wreck. He’s in surgery; your friends are in shock. You'd do anything for them.
But what can you do? Or, you try to conceal your shock at the news. Your
friend's teenage daughter is pregnant, confused and considering an abortion.
Your friend blames herself. "If only . . . .” What can you do? Perhaps you
sigh at the images on the TV screen. Yet another tornado strikes another city.
Schools are demolished, houses destroyed, lives lost. Such devastation. But
what can you do? When the challenge is greater than you are. When the hurt is
palpable. When you feel helpless and impotent. Where can you turn? Turn to one
of Jesus' most intriguing teachings about prayer.
“Suppose you
went to a friend's house at midnight, wanting to borrow three loaves of bread.
You say to him, ‘A friend of mine has just arrived for a visit, and I have nothing
for him to eat.’ And suppose he calls out from his bedroom, ‘Don't bother me.
The door is locked for the night, and my family and I are all in bed. I can't
help you.’ But I tell you this – though he won't do it for friendship's sake,
if you keep knocking long enough, he will get up and give you whatever you need
because of your shameless persistence. And so I tell you, keep on asking, and
you will receive what you ask for. Keep on seeking, and you will find. Keep on
knocking, and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks, receives.
Everyone who seeks, finds. And to everyone who knocks, the door will be opened.”
(Luke 11:5-10)
That's you
ringing the doorbell at midnight. The neighborhood is quiet. The streets are
still. The sky is dark, and so is your friend's two-story house. But still you
ring his doorbell, not once or twice but three times. Ding-dong. Ding-dong. Ding-dong. It's a big house, so it’s a
big noise. His Chihuahua wakes up. He has that snappy, who-do-you-think-you-are
kind of bark. You envision what’s happening upstairs. Your friend's wife is
giving him a kick beneath the blankets. "Hank, get up! Someone’s at the
door." Poor guy. One minute sound asleep. The next, kicked out of bed.
Doorbell ringing, dog barking. He's not going to like this.
The porch light
comes on. The door opens. Boy, does he look like a mess. Boxer shorts. T-shirt.
Bed head. Face lined with pillow creases and covered in whiskers. "What in
the world are you doing here?" he asks. "A friend of mine has just
arrived for a visit, and I have nothing for him to eat," you answer. The
homeowner grumbles and complains, but you insist. "Come on, Hank, please?"
Finally Hank acquiesces, invites you in, and takes you to his pantry. You fill
a basket with food and take it home. And your surprise guest doesn't have to go
to bed hungry. All because you spoke up on behalf of someone else.
That’s intercessory
prayer at its purest, a confluence of paucity and audacity. "I can't heal
them, but, God, you can." "I can't forgive them, but, God, you
can." "I can't help them, but, God, you can." That kind of prayer
gets God's attention. After all, if Hank, a cranky, disgruntled friend, will
help you out, how much more will God do? He never sleeps. He's never irritated.
When you knock on his door, he responds quickly and fairly. Jesus never refused
an intercessory request. Ever.
Peter brought
concerns for his sick mother-in-law. The centurion brought a request for his
sick servant. Jairus had a sick daughter. A woman from Canaan had a
demon-possessed daughter. From sunrise to sunset Jesus heard one appeal after
another: "My uncle can’t walk." "My son cannot see."
"My wife is in pain." He heard so many requests that at times the
disciples attempted to turn people away. (Matt. 15:22-23) Yet Jesus wouldn’t let
them. "Great crowds came to him, bringing the lame, the blind, the
crippled, the mute and many others, and laid them at his feet; and he healed
them." (Matt. 15:30) He never grew impatient at their requests. But he did
grow impatient at the lack of one.
A father once
brought his demon-possessed son to the disciples of Jesus. They attempted to
help the boy but failed. When Jesus learned of their failure, he erupted in
frustration. "O faithless and perverse generation, how long shall I be
with you? How long shall I bear with you? Bring him here to me." (Matt.
17:17) Wow. Jesus is so uberpatient that any sign of impatience is a little disconcerting.
So, what was the oversight of the disciples? Simple. They never took the boy to
Jesus. Not in person and apparently not in prayer. They attempted to heal the
boy without calling on Christ. He had to command them: "Bring him here to me."
Jesus had a
strong word for that: unbelief.
"Then the disciples came to Jesus privately and said, 'Why could we not
cast it out?' So Jesus said to them, 'Because of your unbelief.'" (vv.
19-20) Unbelief: attempting to help
others without calling on Jesus. Belief:
pounding on God's door at midnight. Doing whatever it takes to present people
to Jesus. A bit like Moses on Mt. Sinai.
When God saw the
golden calf stunt, he was ready to wipe out the nation of Israel. They were
eyewitnesses to ten plagues and one Red Sea opening. Their bellies were full of
God-given manna and heaven-sent quail, but did they remember their Deliverer?
No, they danced the night away in front of a homemade statue. God was not
happy. “Then the LORD said to Moses, ‘Go down from this mountain, because your
people, the people you brought out of the land of Egypt, have ruined
themselves. They have quickly turned away from the things I commanded them to
do . . . . I have seen these people, and I know that they are very stubborn. So
now do not stop me. I am so angry with them that I am going to destroy them.
Then I will make you and your descendants a great nation." (Ex. 32:7-10)
Dry grass on Mount Vesuvius stood a better chance of survival.
Their only hope
was their octogenarian leader, who'd met God, possibly on this same mountain,
some years earlier. If Moses had any clout, this was the time to use it. And he
did. “[Moses] begged the LORD his God and said, ‘LORD, don't let your anger
destroy your people, whom you brought out of Egypt with your great power and
strength. Don't let the people of Egypt say, “The LORD brought the Israelites
out of Egypt for an evil purpose. He planned to kill them in the mountains and
destroy them from the earth.” So stop being angry, and don't destroy your people.’"
(vv. 11-12)
Look at the
passion of Moses. On his face one minute, in God's face the next. He's on his
knees, pointing his finger, lifting his hands. Shedding tears. Shredding his
cloak. Wrestling like Jacob for the lives of his people. And how did God react?
"So the LORD changed his mind and did not destroy the people as he had
said he might." (Ex. 32:14) That’s the promise of prayer – we can change
God's mind.
God’s ultimate
will is inflexible, but the implementation of his will is not. He doesn’t change
in his character and purpose, but he does alter his strategy because of the
appeals of his children. We do not change his intention, but we can influence
his actions. After all, we are ambassadors for Christ. (2 Cor. 5:20)
Ambassadors represent the king. They speak with the authority of the throne. If
an ambassador sends a request to the king, will the king listen? If you, God's
ambassador in this world, come to your King with a request, will he listen? Yes.
You actually have a "seat with [Christ] in the heavens." (Eph. 2:6)
You don't have a seat at the Supreme Court or in the House of Representatives,
but you do have one that is far more strategic; you have a seat in the
government of God.
Like a
congressman you represent a district. You speak on behalf of your family,
neighborhood, or softball team. Your sphere of influence is your region. And as
you grow in faith, your district expands. God burdens you with a concern for
orphans, distant lands, or needy people. You respond to these promptings by
prayer. You are Moses in your cul-de-sac; Moses in your workforce; Moses in
your classroom. You plead with God on other people's behalf. Intercessory
prayer isn't rocket science. It acknowledges our inability and God's ability.
We come with empty hands but high hopes. Why? Because God "is able to do
exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask or think." (Eph. 3:20) He
"will supply all [our] needs according to His riches." (Phil. 4:19)
When God gives, he gives a gift that is "pressed down, shaken together to
make room for more, running over, and poured into your lap." (Luke 6:38)
The apostle John
wrote about prayer. In his vision of heaven John saw the prayers of the saints
ascending like incense into the presence of God. “Then an angel took the
censer, filled it with fire from the altar, and threw it to the earth. And
there were noises, thunderings, lightnings, and an earthquake." (Rev. 8:5)
That’s the power of prayer. You ask God for help, and bam – fire falls to the
earth. You lift your concerns to heaven, and turbulence happens. So, knock on
the midnight door. Stand up on behalf of those you love. And stand up on behalf
of those you don’t. "Pray for those who hurt you." (Matt. 5:44)
The quickest way
to douse the fire of anger is with a bucket of prayer. Rather than rant, rave
or seek revenge, pray. Jesus did. While hanging on the cross, he interceded for
his enemies: "Father, forgive them; they don't know what they're doing."
(Luke 23:34) Jesus, even Jesus, left his enemies in God's hands. So, shouldn't
we do the same? You are never more like Jesus than when you pray for others.
Pray for those you love; pray for those you don't. Pray for this hurting world.
Present their case to the Giver of bread and bring a grocery basket. You’ll
have plenty of blessings to take back to them.
Grace,
Randy
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