Bring Your Problems to Jesus

 

Bring Your Problems to Jesus

Bring Your Problems to Jesus - Audio/Visual 

The next day there was a wedding celebration in the village of Cana in Galilee. Jesus’ mother was there, and Jesus and his disciples were also invited to the celebration. The wine supply ran out during the festivities, so Jesus’ mother told him, “They have no more wine.” “Dear woman, that’s not our problem,” Jesus replied. “My time has not yet come.” But his mother told the servants, “Do whatever he tells you.” (John 2:1-5)

Want to see a parent’s face go pale white? Then just position yourself nearby as they discover these three little words on the box of a just-purchased toy: "Some assembly required." What he wanted was a gift for his child; what she got was a project. So, they go about retrieving the minimal tools required: a screwdriver, a hammer and a utility truck. What follows are several late-night hours of squeezing “A” into “B,” bolting “D” into “F,” sliding “R” over “Z,” and hoping that no one notices if steps four, five and six were skipped altogether. I'm convinced the devil’s in the details of toy assembly, and that somewhere in perdition is a warehouse of stolen toy parts. "Some assembly required." Not the most welcome sentence, but an honest one.

Marriage licenses should include the words, "Some assembly required" – in large print. Job contracts should state in bold letters, "Some assembly required." Babies should exit the womb with a tag: "Some assembly required." Life is a gift, albeit unassembled. It comes in pieces, and sometimes it falls to pieces. Part “A” doesn't always fit with part “B.” Inevitably, something seems to be missing. The pieces of life don't fit. And when they don't, bring your problem to Jesus. Mary, the mother of Jesus, did.

“The next day there was a wedding celebration in the village of Cana in Galilee. Jesus’ mother was there, and Jesus and his disciples were also invited to the celebration.” (John 2:1-2) A common wedding. The bride wasn't the daughter of a king. The groom wasn't a prince. Were it not for one detail, the event may have been lost in time. The guest list. It read something like this: Benjamin of Capernaum, Simon the craftsman, Saul, rabbi of Cana. And a little farther down the list: Jesus of Nazareth. The family invited Jesus to a wedding. And since he always goes where he’s invited, Jesus and his disciples traveled to Cana for their first excursion. And while they were there, "the wine supply ran out." (v. 3)

Someone apparently underestimated the size of the crowd, or the appetite of the guests, or the depth of the wine vats, or the number of friends Jesus would bring. Regardless of the reason, however, the bride and groom ran out of wine. And in your world? Maybe the employer ran out of cash, the team ran out of solutions, or you ran out of gas. Life leaks. Enter, stage right, Mary, the mother of Jesus.

In my opinion, Mary appears too seldom in Scripture. After all, who knew Jesus better than his mother? She carried him for nine months. Breast-fed him for probably more. She heard his first words and witnessed his first steps. She was the ultimate authority on Jesus. So, on the rare occasion when she speaks, we tend to pay attention. "Jesus’ mother told him, ‘They have no more wine.’” (v. 3) Mary wasn't being bossy. She didn't say, "Those cute newlyweds are out of wine, Jesus, so here’s what I need you to do, son. Go down to the vineyard at the corner of Grape and Juice streets, stimulate the growth of those Bordeaux vines, and then turn the grapes into wine." She didn't try to fix the problem herself.

She wasn't critical, either. "Jesus, if only they had planned better. People just don't think ahead, do they, son? What’s this society coming to anyway? The world is going over the cliff! Help, Jesus, baby, help!" She didn't blame the host. And she didn't blame Jesus, either. "What kind of Messiah are you? If you were really in control, this would never have happened!" Nor did she blame herself. "It's all my fault, Jesus. Punish me. I failed as a friend. Now the wedding is ruined. The marriage will collapse. I’m the only one to blame." None of that. Mary didn't whine about the wine. She just stated the problem – “they have no more wine. ‘Dear woman, that’s not our problem,’ Jesus replied. ‘My time has not yet come.’” And like she didn’t hear him, Mary told the servants, “Do whatever he tells you.” (John 2: 4-5)

Originally, Jesus had no intention of saving the wedding banquet. This wasn't the manner or place he had planned to reveal his power. But then Mary entered the story – someone he loved – with a genuine need. And in my imagination, I see Mary turn and walk away after she makes her request. Her face is serene. Her eyes reflect calm. She’s untroubled. She’s done everything she was supposed to do. She identified the problem, brought it to Jesus, and left it with him. She trusted him completely and maybe even nonchalantly simply told the servants to do whatever Jesus said. It wasn’t her problem now.

I can just see Jesus smiling and letting out a little chuckle. His mother had just plopped the problem in his lap, told the servants to do what he said and then walked away like nothing had happened. At that, “Jesus said to [the servants], ‘Fill the water pots with water.’ And they filled them to the brim. And he said to them, ‘Draw some out now, and take it to the master of the feast.’" (vv. 7-8) The master of the feast tasted the wine, licked his lips and said, "Wow, now that’s great stuff!" Then he lifted his glass in a toast to the bridegroom and complimented him on saving the best wine for last.

And while the master of the feast noted the quality of the wine, John wanted us to observe the quantity. Six stone jars capable of holding thirty gallons apiece. The servants filled them to the brim. (v. 7) At Jesus' command H2O became abundant merlot. A quick calculation reveals the amount: 908 bottles of wine. With that kind of inventory, the couple could have started a wine club in Napa. Problem presented. Prayer answered. Crisis avoided. All because Mary entrusted the problem to Jesus.

There’s another version of this story, however. In it, Mary never involved Jesus. She took the master of the feast to task for his poor planning. He then took exception to her accusations and Mary stormed out of the party. The groom overheard the argument and lost his temper, so the bride told her groom to forget the marriage – if he couldn't manage his anger, he couldn't manage their home. And by the end of the day, the guests left sad, the marriage ended before it began, and Jesus just shook his head and said, "I could've helped if only I'd been asked." That version of the story isn't in the Bible, of course, but the principle applies: How many disasters could be averted if we'd go first, in faith, to Jesus?

Bring your problems to Jesus. Don't take your problems to the bar – Jim Beam can’t solve them. Don't take your problems out on others - temper tantrums never advance the cause. The moment you sense a problem, however large or small, take it to Christ. “Don't worry about anything; instead, pray about everything; tell God your needs and don't forget to thank him for his answers. If you do this, you will experience God's peace, which is far more wonderful than the human mind can understand. His peace will keep your thoughts and your hearts quiet and at rest as you trust in Christ Jesus.” (Phil. 4:6-7)

An unprayed-for problem is an embedded thorn. It festers and infects – first the finger, then the hand, then the entire arm. Best to go straight to the person who has the tweezers. And how does that look on you? Imagine this. It’s breakfast time, and the family is in chaos. The daughters are complaining about their brother who took too much time in the bathroom. As a result, their hair isn't brushed, and their makeup hasn’t been applied. Mom is doing her best to manage the conflict, but she woke up with a headache and a long list of things to do. Dad stops at the kitchen entryway and surveys the pandemonium. He weighs his options: (1) command everyone to shape up and behave; (2) berate his son for dominating the bathroom, his daughters for their poor planning, and his wife for not taking control; or (3) sneak out before anyone notices. Or, perhaps, he could turn to prayer. Father, you are good. I need help. Reduce the frenzy in my house, please. Will that prayer change everything? It may. But at least the problem will be in the hands of the one who can solve it. "Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you." (1 Peter 5:7)

Helen Roseveare was a missionary doctor who spent twenty years in the Congo at a clinic and orphanage. When Helen had been there almost four years, a mother died in labor leaving behind a premature baby and a two-year-old girl. The facility had no incubator or electricity. Dr. Roseveare's first task was to keep the newborn warm. She sent a midwife to fetch a hot water bottle. The nurse returned with bad news: the bottle had burst when she filled it. Even worse, that was the last bottle. So, Dr. Roseveare instructed the midwife to sleep near the newborn. They would seek a solution the next day. A solution was not easily found. The clinic was in the heart of the jungle, and help was many miles away.

The following day the doctor mentioned her concern to the children. She told them of the frail baby and the sad sister. A ten-year-old girl named Ruth decided to take the problem to Jesus. "Please, God, send us a hot water bottle. It'll be no good tomorrow, God, as the baby'll be dead; so please send it this afternoon. And, while you are about it, would you please send a dolly for the little girl, so she'll know you really love her?" The doctor was stunned. That prayer could only be answered by the arrival of a parcel from home. And after nearly four years at the clinic, she'd never received a single package. Even if one came, who would send a hot water bottle to the equator? Someone did.

Later that afternoon a twenty-two-pound package was delivered to Helen's door. As she called the children, she felt tears in her eyes. Could it be? They pulled off the string and unwrapped the paper. In the box they found bandages, jerseys, raisins, sultanas, and a brand-new hot water bottle. And at the bottom of the box, a dolly for the little girl. The box had been shipped five months earlier from Helen’s former Sunday School class. You see, the Lord had heard Ruth’s prayer before it was even offered.

Pieces don't fit. Wine runs out. Water bottles burst. These are facts of life. But Jesus responds with this invitation: "Bring your problems to me." State them simply. Present them faithfully and trust him reverently. Odds are you’ll be raising a glass and proposing a toast before you know it.

Grace,

Randy

What's for Thanksgiving?

 

What’s for Thanksgiving?

What's for Thanksgiving? - Audio/Visual 

Let all that I am praise the Lord; with my whole heart, I will praise his holy name. Let all that I am praise the Lord; may I never forget the good things he does for me. He forgives all my sins and heals all my diseases. He redeems me from death and crowns me with love and tender mercies. He fills my life with good things. (Psalm 103:1-5; NLT)

The Pilgrims who landed at Plymouth Rock in 1620 would have been amazed at the world we live in today. In fact, the next time you’re tempted to complain about inflation, the economy or even the price of tea in China, you might want to reconsider. For instance, during their first long winter at Plymouth Colony, they dug seven times as many graves as they built homes for the living. In fact, of the 102 Mayflower passengers, only half were alive by spring. And the ship that was later to bring food and relief, the Fortune, brought 37 more mouths to feed but not an ounce of food.

Although the Pilgrims didn’t have much, they were enormously grateful. And it was this attitude, combined with their strength, devotion and sincerity, which served as the bedrock of our nation. Their gratitude is even more remarkable when you consider that, at one point in 1623, food was rationed to a few grains of corn each day. From these dire circumstances came a tradition, started on Forefather’s Day, December 22, 1820, where five kernels of corn would be placed on each empty plate before a dinner of “thanksgiving” was served. Each member of the family would then pick up a kernel and tell about something for which they were thankful. Simply put, it was a matter of putting things in perspective, like this letter from a college coed to her parents:

Dear Mom & Dad: I'm sorry I've been so long in writing. Unfortunately, all my stationery was destroyed the night our dorm was set on fire by demonstrators. I'm out of the hospital now and the doctors say my eyesight should return sooner or later. The wonderful boy, Bill, who rescued me from the fire kindly offered to share his apartment with me until my dorm room is rebuilt. He comes from a grand family, so you won't be surprised when I tell you we're going to be married in a short while. In fact, since you've always wanted a grandchild, you'll be glad to know you'll be grandparents next month!

              P.S. Please disregard the above practice in English composition. There was no fire. I haven't been to the hospital. I'm not pregnant, and I don't even have a boyfriend. But I did get a "D" in French and an "F" in chemistry. I just wanted to be sure you received the news in perspective.

 

Do you think her parents had a different perspective by the time they got to the end of that letter? By the time they got to the end, they were thinking “D’s” and “F’s” never sounded so good. The late motivational speaker, Zig Ziglar, once said, “Your attitude, not your aptitude, will determine your altitude.” But it's not easy to always be grateful, like when you’re stuck in traffic, or late for work, or the doctor’s report isn't what you expected. It’s not easy to praise God when your spouse walks out, or your child is sick, or you’ve lost your job. Gratitude may not always change your circumstances, but it can change how your circumstances affect you. Here’s an example.

An elderly woman bowed her head and said, "Thank you, Lord, for these vittles." Overhearing her prayer, a young kid asked, "Lady, what are vittles?” She answered, "The blessings that God gives me, like my food to eat." The smart aleck kid responded, "Don't you know you’re going to have that food whether you thank God for it or not?" With the wisdom of her age, the woman responded, "Well, perhaps so, but everything tastes better when I'm thankful." And The first five verses of Psalm 103 gives us five kernels to consider this coming Thanksgiving.

He forgives all my sins and heals all my diseases. There’s no mistaking it — God offers forgiveness. This forgiveness is the unique promise of the Father, provided through his Son, and proclaimed in the Bible. An attempt to understand God’s grace should be our lifelong study, but a sense of gratitude should well up from the depths of our heart every day for God’s incredible gift. The London Times publishes the prices paid for art objects in all of the salesrooms throughout the world. For instance, if a painting is sold in New York, Rome or London, the Times gives the details of the sale, and you can judge the value of the painting by the price paid for it. Have you ever wondered what you’re worth? The Bible says you’re priceless because Jesus paid the ransom that sin demanded for your life.

But does God really “heal all diseases?” That’s a little tough to reconcile with the fact that God doesn’t heal everyone who has some sort of disease. But maybe the “disease” that David’s talking about isn’t a physical thing at all since it seems like David is talking about his soul. “Let all that I am praise the Lord,” David says. And it’s only after that introduction that David goes on to say that God “forgives all my sins and heals all my diseases.” Now, clinically speaking, the diseases of the soul emanate from a virus called sin, and Jesus, just as doctors do, identified the virus and told us about its symptoms and disorders. “For out of the heart come evil thoughts, murder, adultery, sexual immorality, theft, false testimony, slander. These are what make a man ’unclean.’” (Matthew 15:19-20) Just as surely as some disorders of the body can be cured by medicines and surgery, so our souls can be cleansed, purged, purified and made whole when God is allowed to possess us – completely.

In 1925, Texas governor Pat Neff spoke to a group of convicts. At the conclusion of his speech, the governor said that he would stick around if anyone wanted to speak with him. As you can imagine, a large group of men remained, many of them lifers. Each gave the governor their stories about how they’d been framed, or hadn’t received justice, or were the victims of some kind of judicial blunder. To a man, each asked to be freed. Finally, one man came up and said, “Governor, I just want to say that I’m guilty. I did what they sent me here for, but I believe I’ve paid for it. If I were freed, I would do everything I could to be a good citizen and prove myself worthy of your mercy.” The governor eventually pardoned the man. His name was Huddie William Ledbetter. Not exactly a household name for most.

That’s because he’s better known as Lead Belly, an iconic folk and blues musician who was eventually inducted into the Louisiana Music Hall of Fame. He’s been covered by music greats such as Bob Dylan, Pete Seeger, Harry Belafonte, Van Morrison, Johnny Cash, and groups such as Creedence Clearwater Revival, Abba, The Beach Boys, Led Zeppelin and Nirvana. But why only pardon Lead Belly? Well, it’s pretty simple. Huddie William Ledbetter admitted his guilt. And we can be pardoned, too. But there’s a difference. Unlike Lead Belly, we can’t say that we’ve paid the price for any of our sins. But if we’ll plead Jesus’ blood, God will pardon and redeem us.

He redeems me from death and crowns me with love and tender mercies. Satan is bent on damning our souls and destroying our lives. All you have to do is look at our jails, hospitals and half-way houses – they’re filled with people whose lives are being destroyed. But God has redeemed us from this power. David, in another psalm, put it this way: “He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand. He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see and fear and put their trust in the LORD.” (Psalm 40:2-3)

J. Wilbur Chapman was an early 1900’s evangelist who hired “Billy” Sunday as his advance man and preached revival meetings with the likes of D.L. Moody. In one of his meetings, a man gave this testimony: “I got off at the Pennsylvania depot one day as a tramp. For a year I begged on the streets for a living. One day I touched a man on the shoulder and said, ‘Mister, please give me some money so I can have something to eat.’ As soon as I saw his face, I recognized him as my father. ‘Father, don’t you know me?’ I asked. Throwing his arms around me, he cried, ‘I’ve found you! I’ve found you! All I have is yours!’ Think of it! That I, a tramp, stood begging my father for a few cents, when for 18 years he had been looking for me to give me all he was worth.” And just like the tramp’s father, God’s looking for us, too, because he’s already given all he’s worth and he wants us to claim our inheritance.

He fills my life with good things. When we seek God’s righteousness, he grants it. Psalm 107:9 says, “He has satisfied the thirsty soul and the hungry soul he has filled with what is good.” A famous surgeon was seldom seen on the streets without a beautiful, fresh rose in his lapel. His friends wondered how those rosebuds stayed fresh for so long. Curious, they asked him his secret, at which point the surgeon turned back the lapel of his coat to reveal a little bottle of water into which the stem of the rose had been inserted. Viola! Fresh flowers. And so it is with us as believers. If our lives draw from God’s great resources, who is in us the Water of Life (John 4:10), we will grow more fragrant and beautiful as the days and years go by. The result of living a fulfilled, satisfied, spiritual life is a constant renewal, a constant refreshing, a constant revival.

So, it’s no wonder then that David would say, Let all that I am praise the Lord; with my whole heart, I will praise his holy name. Let all that I am praise the Lord; may I never forget the good things he does for me.“ The acclaimed American author, William Faulkner, said: “Gratitude is a quality similar to electricity – it must be produced and discharged and used up in order to exist at all.” Or, as the late William Arthur Ward wrote, “Feeling gratitude and not expressing it is like wrapping a present and not giving it.” In other words, gratitude is the attitude that changes our altitude in life.

So, as we sit down to our Thanksgiving tables next week, let’s take time to thank God. And although the food may just seemingly “magically” appear, and without even having said grace, my hunch is that it will taste a whole lot better with a ladle of gratitude.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Randy

Call Him Daddy

 

Call Him Daddy

Call Him Daddy - Audio/Visual 

And when you come before God, don’t turn that into a theatrical production either. All these people are making a regular show out of their prayers, hoping for stardom! Do you think God sits in a box seat? Here’s what I want you to do: find a quiet, secluded place so you won’t be tempted to role-play before God. Just be there as simply and honestly as you can manage. The focus will shift from you to God, and you will begin to sense his grace. The world is full of so-called prayer warriors who are prayer ignorant. They’re full of formulas, programs, and advice, peddling techniques for getting what you want from God. Don’t fall for that nonsense. This is your Father you’re dealing with, and he knows better than you what you need. With a God like this loving you, you can pray very simply. (Matt. 6:5-8; MSG)

When my oldest daughter was eight, she flubbed a wide-open goal on the pitch. She went on to become a terrific high school soccer player and was even offered a scholarship to play at a Southern California university. But everyone has an off day – she just happened to have hers in front of family, friends and onlookers at an international soccer tournament. Her performance started well; she dribbled and deked up the field like Mia Hamm. But just prior to taking her shot on goal, her efforts took a header, and she missed wide right at what was, essentially, a wide-open goal. I can still see her staring straight ahead, eyes betrayed by what a right foot that had trained countless hours knew how to do.

The silence in the stadium was broken only by the pounding of my heart. “That’s alright, Punkin;’ it can happen to anyone,” I said to myself. But the damage had been done. She looked at her coach, chin quivering and eyes tearing. The audience offered compassionate applause. She stayed in the game, but her heart just wasn’t in it. By the end of the game, I’d left my seat and met her on the sidelines. She threw her arms around me and buried her face in my shirt. "Oh, Dad." I picked her up and bear-hugged her with affection. If a hug could have extracted embarrassment, that one would have. At that moment I would have given her the moon and all she said was, "Oh, Dad." Prayer starts there.

Prayer begins with an honest, heartfelt "Oh, Daddy." Jesus taught us to begin our prayers by saying, "Our Father in heaven." (Matt. 6:9) More specifically, to begin with “Our Abba in heaven." Abba is an intimate, tender, folksy term and is the warmest of Aramaic words for "father." It is formality stripped away, and proximity promised. Jesus invites us to approach God the way a child approaches his or her daddy. And how do children approach their daddies? Well, I went to a local school playground a few years back to find out. Upon arrival, I found a spot on the bench under a tree and took a few notes.

Most of the kids were picked up by their moms that day, but there were enough dads who had carpool duty for me to complete my research. When a five-year-old boy with a Superman backpack spotted his father in the parking lot, he shouted "Yippee!" "Ice creeeeaaaam!" said another, apparently referring to a promise made by the dad to his red-headed daughter. "Pops! Over here! Push me!" yelled a boy wearing a Padres hat. I heard requests, like "Daddy, can Tommy come home with me? His mom is on a trip, and he doesn't want to hang out with his big sister because she won't let him watch TV and makes him eat . . . ." His mouth was like a broken fire hydrant – the words just didn’t stop. I also heard questions like, "Are we going home?" And I heard excitement, too, "Dad! Look at what I did!"

Here's what I didn't hear: "Father, it is most gracious of thee to drive thy car to my place of education and provide me with domestic transportation. Please accept my deepest gratitude for your benevolence. For thou art splendid in thy attentive care and diligent in thy dedication." I didn’t hear that. I didn't hear formality or impressive vocabulary. I heard kids who were happy to see their dads and eager to talk. God invites us to approach him in the same way. And that’s a big relief because I think a lot of us fear “mis-praying.”

For instance, what is the expected etiquette and dress code of prayer? What if I kneel instead of stand? What if I say the wrong words, or use the wrong tone? Am I apostate if I say "prostate" instead of "prostrate"? Jesus' answer? "Unless you are converted and become like little children, you will by no means enter the kingdom of heaven." (Matt. 18:3) We are to become like little children – carefree; joy-filled; playful; trusting; curious, and excited. Forget greatness; seek littleness. Trust more, and strut less. Make lots of requests and accept all the gifts. Come to God the way a child comes to his or her dad.

Daddy. The very word takes aim at our pride. Other salutations permit an air of sophistication. You know, deepen the tone of voice, and pause for dramatic effect. "O holy Lord . . . ." I allow the words to reverberate throughout the universe as I, the pontiff of petition, pontificate my prayer. "God, you are my King, and I am your prince." “You are the Maestro, and I am your minstrel." "You are the President, and I am your ambassador." But God prefers this greeting: "God, you’re my Daddy, and I’m your child." And here's why: it's hard to call God “Daddy” and show off all at the same time. In fact, it’s impossible.

And maybe that’s the point. Elsewhere, Jesus gives this instruction: "And when you come before God, don’t turn that into a theatrical production either. All these people are making a regular show out of their prayers, hoping for stardom! Do you think God sits in a box seat?" (Matt. 6:5) Religious leaders of Jesus’ day loved (and still love) to make theater out of their prayers. They perched themselves at intersections and practiced public piety. Their show nauseated Jesus. "Find a quiet, secluded place so you won’t be tempted to role-play before God. Just be there as simply and honestly as you can manage. The focus will shift from you to God, and you will begin to sense his grace." (Matt. 6:6)

These words probably stunned Jesus' audience. Prayer, they likely assumed, was reserved for special people in a special place. God met with the priest in the temple, behind the curtain in the Holy of Holies. The people, on the other hand, were simple farmers and craftsmen – folks of the land and the earth. They couldn't enter the temple, but they could enter their closets: “But you, when you pray, enter your closet, and when you have shut your door, pray to your Father who is in secret.” (Id.)

In the Palestinian culture of Jesus’ time, the room most likely to have a door was the storage closet. It held tools, seed and farming supplies. A chicken might even wander in occasionally. There was nothing holy about the closet. It was the day-to-day workroom of its time. For instance, my closet doesn’t have any fancy fixtures or impressive furniture. It has a cubby for my shoes (used on a hit-or-miss basis), a dirty-clothes hamper (more hit than miss), and shirts, pants, suits and ties. But I don't entertain guests in my closet. You'll never hear me tell visitors after dinner, "Hey, why don't we step into my closet for a chat?" I prefer the living room or family room, instead; even my study. But God apparently likes to chat in the closet. Why? Because he's low on fancy, and high on accessibility.

To pray at the Vatican can be very meaningful, but prayers offered at home carry just as much weight as prayers offered in Rome. Or you could travel to the Wailing Wall in Jerusalem if you wanted to, but a prayer at your backyard fence is just as effective. The One who hears your prayers is your Daddy. You don’t have to woo him with your location, or wow him with your eloquence. But Jesus wasn’t finished there. "The world is full of so-called prayer warriors who are prayer ignorant. They’re full of formulas, programs, and advice, peddling techniques for getting what you want from God. Don’t fall for that nonsense. This is your Father you’re dealing with, and he knows better than you what you need. With a God like this loving you, you can pray very simply." (Matt. 6:7-8)

Jesus downplayed the importance of words in prayers. Unfortunately, we tend to do the opposite. The more words, the better. The better the words the better, for that matter. For instance, Muslim prayers, however impressive, must be properly recited at each of the five appointed times during the day. Hindu and Buddhist prayers, however profound, depend upon the repetition of mantras, words and syllables. Even branches of the Christian faith emphasize the appropriate prayer language, the latest prayer trend, and the holiest prayer terminology. Against all this emphasis on syllables and rituals, Jesus says, "Don't fall for that nonsense." (Matt. 6:7) Vocabulary and geography might impress people, but it doesn’t impress God.

The truth is that there’s no panel of angelic judges with numbered cards saying, "Wow, that prayer was a ten. God will definitely hear that one!" Or "Ugh, that was pretty bad. Couldn’t you have done just a little bit better? You only scored a two on that one this morning; you’d better go home and practice." Prayers aren't given style points, and prayer isn’t a competition. Just as a happy child cannot mis-hug a parent, the sincere heart cannot mis-pray. Heaven knows, life has enough burdens without the burden of having to pray correctly. Frankly, if prayer depended on how I pray, then I'm sunk. But if the power of prayer depends on the One who hears it, and if the One who hears the prayer is my Daddy, then I have hope. And so do you.

Prayer really is that simple. So, resist the urge to complicate it. Don't take undue pride in well-crafted prayers, and don't apologize for incoherent ones, either. No games. No cover-ups. Just be honest – honest to God. Climb into his lap. Tell him everything that’s on your heart, or tell him nothing at all. Just lift your heart to heaven and declare, “Daddy,” because sometimes "Daddy" is all we can muster. Stress. Fear. Guilt. Grief. Demands on all sides. Sometimes all we can summon is a plaintive, "Oh, Dad." If so, that's enough.

It was for my daughter; she uttered only two words, and I wrapped her in my arms because I hurt for her breaking heart. And your heavenly Father will do the same; all you have to do is call His name and he simply asks you to call him Daddy.

Grace,

Randy