Author: firstdelray

“Pray like this: Our Father who is in heaven.” (Matthew 6:9a Common English Bible)

Just this week, someone approached me following worship and said that he was still struggling with prayer. It was his comment, “still”, that caught my attention. Months earlier, we shared breakfast. The primary conversation at that time was prayer. Following that breakfast, he proceeded to purchase and read two books on prayer that are available at the church, one that I authored and the second, a collection of daily meditations from eleven pastors who have preached at First Presbyterian Church of Delray Beach in the past ten years. Yet, this morning he was “still” struggling with prayer. I asked him to say more. Faith in the power of prayer wasn’t the problem. By his own admission, he has seen the power of prayer at work in others. His difficulty was the “how”. Though each of the two books provided a beautiful daily prayer following thirty-one brief meditations, his struggle was “how” he would pray meaningfully each day.

The church often encourages people to pray—and to pray regularly. But this man’s concern suggests that the church has failed to offer specific guidance on how to pray. George Arthur Buttrick shares a cruel story of a bishop who resolved to practice what he had so often preached: he would speak to God in direct simplicity. He spoke. A Voice, gentle but holy, answered him, “Yes, what is it?” The bishop was found dead on the chancel steps.[i] Powerfully, this story addresses the lack of any real expectation from prayer. This lack of expectation may be a primary reason there is so little prayer today. But a closer attention to this story does offer a powerful “how” to a life of meaningful prayer: speaking to God in direct simplicity. Solemnity, grandeur, and beautiful language are not necessary to the effectiveness of prayer. Prayers must not be judged by their eloquence but by their sincere desire to draw near to God.

To pray, it is only necessary to make the effort of reaching out towards God as a child reaches out towards a parent. This is an effort from the heart. It is an effort that flows from love and expresses itself in feeling and longing for God. As a conversation between two people in love with one another, prayer seeks understanding, seeks guidance, seeks strength. It is not an intellectual exercise, not a conversation that flows from the mind. Nor is prayer a demonstration of poetic gifts of expression, though beautiful prayers can help others find words for inexpressible thoughts and longings. There is a difference between honest, simple, and direct conversation with God during the day and composing beautiful prayers that may be helpful to another. Real, authentic prayer must not be judged by its beauty and eloquence but by its results in strengthening the one who prays. Again, prayer should be like the conversation of a child with a parent.

What is urgently wanted today, by most people, is nothing less than a friendship with God. Prayer is the vital act that develops that friendship. Prayer can turn circumstances around for us, change our attitude, calm our anxieties, and give access to a life of the highest relationship available to us, awaking each morning and uttering, good morning to Jesus, confident that Jesus is there. That is what the man who spoke to me wants. It is a relationship that is indispensable to a deeply satisfying life. How then are we to acquire a positive life of prayer? Ashley Morgan Jackson is quoted on a Facebook posting as suggesting that sometimes the most honest prayers we can pray are the ones that sound like: “This is hard. I am tired. Please help.” It may be that this is the most eloquent prayer that can be uttered because it comes directly from the heart. Or we may simply begin a prayer as Jesus taught, “Our Father who is in heaven.”

Joy,

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[i] George Arthur Buttrick, Prayer (New York & Nashville: Abingdon-Cokesbury Press, MCMXLII) 253.

“I can endure all these things through the power of the one who gives me strength.” Philippians 4:13 (Common English Bible)

We are born with a desire to face any challenge, any obstacle, any difficulty on our own. Young children are proof of that when we hear from their mouths, “I do it!” Mastery over the circumstances of life is a healthy, normal desire. No one wants to feel inadequate, weak, or defeated. Many of us may be quick to come alongside another who struggles and help. We want to be there for others. We are inspired by stories of people who lend a hand, who listen and love deeply, or provide guidance for someone who seems to have lost their way. In each of those scenarios, we are the stronger one who comes to the aid of another. These circumstances demonstrate to us that we are adequate, that we are the strong one. Yet, as we are placed in those situations where we must acknowledge our own weaknesses, or own need for help, we feel small, even powerless. We are disappointed in ourselves because we are found to be inadequate.

These are the moments when Paul’s words to the Philippians are helpful. Paul declares that he can do all things! Sounds like a two-year-old child: “I do it!” Except, what flows next from Paul’s thoughts demonstrates a maturity far more developed than a two-year-old: “Through the power of the one who gives me strength.” Paul’s confidence in facing every struggle, every difficulty is “through the power” of another—through the power of Christ. Rather than feeling diminished or ashamed that he is inadequate, Paul boasts that Jesus Christ is mindful of Paul. Jesus, who is, “in the form of God” (Philippians 2:6), humbled himself so that he may dwell among people like Paul, sharing life with Paul, and finally pouring Jesus’ power into Paul for enduring anything life may throw at Paul. That special and empowering relationship with Jesus remains available for each one of us, promises Paul.

An attitude that is often taken among people of faith is that they simply do not understand prayer. They don’t oppose prayer. They simply don’t understand it. Consequently, one of two things is the result: Either they recite brief prayers taught to them as a child over a meal or at bedtime with little expectation of a positive outcome, or they don’t bother to pray at all. Living life with a vital and expectant sense that Jesus is very present is absent. They may go to church. They may have given mental assent to the teachings of the faith. They may even strive to live in a manner that is taught by the faith. But, in all honesty, they feel that they are on their own. Life is to be lived by their own strength and discipline, or they will be defeated. In moments of exhaustion, they may utter to themselves that they can’t do it and that is that. They accept defeat. Those are the moments that they fail to avail themselves of the power that is available to them in Jesus.

There is another attitude that is seen among people of faith. They are the ones who believe Paul. They believe that Jesus is present in their lives, and they set to use the resources of the faith as best as they can—particularly the resource of prayer. They don’t have a greater grasp of how prayer works than anyone else. They simply accept that Paul found prayer to be effective and that is enough for them. Rather than making any scientific inquiry as to the veracity of prayer, they pray. They pray with expectation. They pray, open to hearing from God even if what they hear isn’t what they desired. They pray not because they seek to leverage God’s power for their own purposes but to understand how God seeks to align them with God’s holy purposes for them. They pray, wanting to experience that this great adventure of life is not lived only by their own strength, or wisdom, or personal desire. And as they pray, as they exercise this conversation with God, what they find is strength.

Joy,

“After saying goodbye to them, Jesus went up onto a mountain to pray.” Mark 6:46 (Common English Bible)

Of all the things Jesus taught about prayer, the most powerful lessons were observed from his practice of prayer. Here is a moment when Jesus and his disciples are exhausted. It has been a day of incessant toil. Jesus acknowledges the disciples’ exhaustion; Jesus acknowledges his own exhaustion. In the thirty-first verse of Mark’s sixth chapter, Jesus says to the disciples, “Come by yourselves to a secluded place and rest for a while.” Jesus and his disciples depart in a boat to a deserted place. Their rest would be brief. Many people saw them leaving in the boat and ran ahead, presumably to the other side of the lake, arriving before Jesus and the disciples. Jesus shows compassion to the people and begins to teach them. Late in the day, the disciples urge Jesus to practice self-care: “Send them away so that they can go to the surrounding countryside and villages and buy something to eat for themselves.” (Verse 6:36) Jesus has another idea.

Jesus asks his disciples to feed the people. The toil of the day continues. Naturally, the disciples grumble. And who can blame them? They are exhausted. And feeding all the people? The disciples speak to the implausibility of that idea; a meal for everyone would cost eight months’ pay! We remember the story. Jesus takes a few loaves and fish and feeds approximately five thousand. And then there is the clean-up that follows the meal—twelve baskets of leftovers! There is exhaustion upon exhaustion. Each of us has had such days; days that seem to resist coming to an end.

Finally, Jesus calls it a day. Jesus made his disciples get into a boat and go toward Bethsaida. But Jesus doesn’t travel with the disciples. Rather, Jesus dismisses the crowd, stomachs full from a meal miraculously served to them, and Jesus goes up onto a mountain to pray. After that day, one might well assume Jesus’ spirit was depleted. Sleep might be in order. But within Jesus’ heart was another desire, to spend the night in conversation with his Father. Jesus prayed all through the night. Notice, prayer was the habitual practice of Jesus’ daily life—the communing with the one whom Jesus loved, the one who provided Jesus with all the strength, encouragement, and direction Jesus needed.

Exhaustion is one of the things that thwarts and stifles our practice of prayer. But exhaustion had no power at all with Christ. Nor was Jesus at the mercy of an irritable mood or sorrow. Jesus loved God his Father so deeply and passionately that any consideration of not praying was absent from his life. Every day and night brought an opportunity to speak to God, to acknowledge the presence of God; to simply be with God. This is an indictment upon our own failure to pray. Jesus’ practice of prayer is never meant to create guilt in our own failure to pray. Jesus never uses guilt. That isn’t God’s way with those God loves. Love and guilt are incompatible. What Jesus’ practice simply demonstrates is that there is a deficiency in our affection for God. That is where we begin. Not with a stronger resolve to pray or the exercise of greater discipline. We begin by paying sufficient attention to God that our affection for God grows. And as with any relationship, as affection grows, so does our desire to simply be with the other grows. That is when we notice our own movement from exhaustion to prayer.

Joy,

Dr. Doug Hood’s wife, Grace Cameron Hood, B.C.E, wrote the following meditation.

Each year, Holly House participates in a time-honored and universal ministry of churches everywhere. They sponsor a rummage sale. The proceeds of the sale go to the ministry of the church. This is how it works. If you have something that you do not need or want or can’t use anymore, you donate it to the church. The women sort everything. This is a time-consuming and tedious job. Imagine sorting hundreds of donated shirts according to size and price. When the sale happens, the community comes in droves. Someone might see an item and realize that they want it, they need it, or they have a use for it. They pay for it. This is a wonderful system. What becomes one person’s discard, trash, or burden becomes the next person’s treasure. This is recycling at its very best!

What does this have to do with a book on gratitude? One day, I was looking through a table of delicate china teacups at the Holly House that had been donated. I grew up with those multi-color aluminum tumblers (which are now collector’s items), white mismatched mugs, and ‘unbreakable’ Corelle cups. I love china teacups. As I studied the intricate and colorful tea cups, I was overwhelmed with a feeling of gratitude for what I have. I am grateful for many things. I inherited a lovely set of tea cups decorated with beautiful violets from my grandmother. They are gorgeous. What’s more, I have the entire set, which includes plates, serving bowls, miniature salt and pepper shakers, a matching sugar and creamer set, and finally, small ashtrays for the bridge games my grandmother would host.  What I have is more than I wanted. It is more than I thought I needed. 

My gratitude goes beyond what I have. It speaks to who our God is. God wants us to have more than we can imagine. What God gives us might not be riches or things. God offers us a sense of worth that comes from who God says we are.  We are not unwanted, unneeded, or a burden. I am grateful that with God, we are each precious and valued. That is one important thing to remember about God. All of us are wanted and loved. There is no one on earth that God discards, donates, or sells. We are not a burden that is carried around or hidden away in an attic or basement when interest has died.  None of us are chosen as second best. We all have immense value in God’s eyes. We are all precious and a treasure to God. There is more. When we look at people around us, we need to remember that God values them! We need to treat people around us as if they were precious to God. This changes how we look at the world. As we see the world through the eyes of gratitude, our perspective changes and creates the community that God intended. One of love, acceptance, inclusivity, and care. 

Joy,

“I’ll visit you when I go to Spain. I hope to see you while I’m passing through. And I hope you will send me on my way there, after I have first been reenergized by some time in your company.” Romans 15:24 (Common English Bible)

I once knew a woman whose romance had gone on the rocks. She made a grand announcement to her work colleagues that she was never going to permit herself to fall in love again. “You only get hurt,” she said. I was a young graduate student struggling in the romance department myself so I remained silent. Fortunately, an older and wiser woman who was our supervisor made the observation, “If you deal with each disappointment that way, you don’t live.” I don’t recall how many work associates were present at that moment but each of us became silent as those few words sunk deep into our hearts. The supervisor continued, “Reassess that relationship. Take something useful from it. Make it fruitful for the next.”

The Apostle Paul wanted to go to Spain. He had his heart set on it. Paul’s zeal for preaching the Gospel of Jesus Christ compelled him to reach the outermost rim of the world. What Paul got was a prison cell in Rome. Like my work colleague, Paul was disappointed. Life’s unexpected turns and twists never permitted Paul to take that journey to Spain. That one historical fact dispels the notion that those who follow Christ are never disappointed, and never experience disruptions in their own life journey. Paul wanted Spain. Paul got a prison cell. How Paul responded is instructive for us. Paul used that time in prison to reassess God’s claim upon him, Paul wrestled something useful from his disappointment. Imprisonment provided quiet time to penetrate deeply into the mysteries of Christ.

Psychologists tell us that suicide, addictions, and some forms of nervous breakdowns are evidence that people are ill-equipped to manage disappointment. Loss and disappointment, regardless of the magnitude, deprive us of our ability to think and act beyond ourselves. Our focus on disappointment becomes so sharp that we are unable to see what remains that is positive in our lives. Consequently, loss and disappointment shrink our life to the exact size of our desire that is unmet. Popular speaker and author, John Maxwell, encourages us along a different path—encourages us to embrace failure and disappointments, extracting from them lessons that result in us “failing forward.” It is then those mistakes, failures, and disappointments become stepping-stones to something so much more.

Few people have the opportunity to live life on the basis of their first choice—whether that be a choice in career, a spouse that “checks all the boxes,” or some other longing. Paul wanted to go to Spain. He got a prison cell. A large majority of us will find that life moves in directions that are not of our choosing. That is precisely when the Christian faith tells us that we should get something out of every experience, every new direction, even out of disappointment. The bulk of the New Testament is letters written by Paul—many of them written while in prison! After twenty-some years as an itinerant preacher, Paul gets a prison cell. At last, Paul found the quiet time to think deeply about what he had learned of Jesus Christ and pour those thoughts out in a written form. That would be Paul’s greatest contribution to the Christian Church.

Joy,

It was said of the disciples long ago that people held them in wonder and awe that they had been with Jesus. To be with one of the disciples was to experience one degree of separation from our Lord. That close proximity to Christ resulted in an experience of spiritual vitality and power. God’s love, wisdom, and strength were no longer limited to one’s imagination as stories of Jesus’ life and ministry were shared. In the company of a disciple—or disciples—God’s presence seemed to come near. The vision of God’s glory grew more expansive in the heart as a result of being in the presence of one of the disciples. Perhaps that same fascination is what drives each of us to be photographed with those we admire. There is an unmistakable attraction and thrill to standing in the presence of those who have acquired a larger-than-life persona.

In this passage from Mark’s Gospel, Jesus had just finished a hard, grueling day. A similar day would follow. How could he be ready for it? What would be the spring of fresh physical, emotional, and spiritual strength from which he would drink? Mark gives us the answer and with it the key to Jesus’ vitality and stamina, “Early in the morning, well before sunrise, Jesus rose and went to a deserted place where he could be alone in prayer.” This one verse suggests the great wisdom of prayer: Every morning, draw from the inexhaustible power of God by drawing near to God’s presence. That is done in prayer. Once when a man was asked what he was doing each day sitting alone in a church, gazing upon a picture of Jesus, he answered, “I am simply looking at him and he is looking at me.” Prayer is time with God.

The weakest, humblest life can be made stronger when placed before God. As we pray, the Bible promises that God will be there. There will be days when God seems absent. The Psalms tell us this. Pray anyway. Know that God is present. Day after day the eyes of the soul become more sensitive to God, the heart more aware of God’s still small voice speaking. Eventually, prayer becomes that daily practice by which the individual soul becomes intertwined with the presence and strength of God. The fact of intimate communion with God is the great reality of true, regular prayer. In prayer, we come to see ourselves surrounded by God’s love and concern for us as we begin each new day.

How strange, how foolish it must seem to God that we should be content with so little prayer. This particular occasion, mentioned in this one verse of Scripture from Mark’s Gospel, was no unusual occurrence for Jesus. Jesus prayed often; Jesus prayed for himself and for others. Jesus took time for prayer before each day and before every difficult challenge that drew near to him. Jesus teaches prayer to us by example, for he knew from his own experience that prayer was a vital part of navigating the inevitable difficulties that each one of us must face. Today, many Christians are troubled by weakness, doubt, and fear, largely because they miss the help that prayer might provide. The greater wisdom of prayer is simply discovering—and experiencing—that we never have to face a day alone.

Joy,

“At evening, morning, and midday I complain and moan so that God will hear my voice.” Psalm 55:17 (Common English Bible)

Framed on my desk is a picture of Eeyore, a character from the Winnie the Pooh stories who is the ever-glum, pessimistic, and sarcastic donkey friend of Pooh. The picture is part of a larger running tease I have with my wife. Frequently, I remind her that my hero is Eeyore simply because he understands me. When I encounter difficulties or obstacles that must be overcome, I imitate the glum voice of Eeyore, saying something like, “It’s no use. I simply can’t manage this setback.” In truth, I find humor in this performance of Eeyore. My wife really doesn’t. With a roll of her eyes, she simply walks away. Imagine my delight when I encountered this passage from Psalm 55:17, “At evening, morning, and midday I complain and moan.” Reading these words to my wife, I exclaimed, “The Bible really gets me!” I received the same reaction from her; she rolled her eyes and walked away.

Recently, I shared lunch with a friend and told him about my fascination with the character, Eeyore. His response resulted in a major disruption of my running tease, “Eeyore may be the most courageous character in the Winnie the Pooh stories.”[i] Bill went on to say that even though Eeyore was certainly a pessimist and always complaining and moaning, he stays in community with his friends. He shows up for them, participates with them in shared adventures, and can be counted on whenever any one of them needs him. Eeyore doesn’t disconnect because of his glum outlook. There is a commitment to his friends that is stronger than what he may be feeling. Eeyore does not allow his mood to be the arbiter of his relationship with others. Numbness and unconcern are rejected by Eeyore, for he realizes that there remains worth in this life; his relationship with those who love him.

Eeyore’s refusal to surrender to withdrawal, resignation, and defeat in life is captured in these words from Psalm 55:17, “At evening, morning, and midday I complain and moan so that God will hear my voice.” Complaint and moaning are not verbal self-pity as one might suppose. Rather, they are a prayer! They are a prayer that is made continuously: “at evening, morning, and midday.” These words are a precursor to Jesus’ own teaching in Luke’s Gospel of our need to pray continuously and not be discouraged.[ii] The Psalmist is not discouraged. The Psalmist’s continuous prayer is a demonstration of faith in the absolute fidelity of a loving God. Keeping Godward channels open by frequent prayer builds and strengthens a relationship with God that brings its own gift, the knowledge that, come what may in this life, we do not move through life alone.

As though opening a can of condensed milk, we now discover that compressed into sixteen words is the formula for making our prayers more vital. First, time for prayer is prioritized. Each day is an opportunity to strengthen a relationship with God. Relationships are never built with the occasional visit or telephone call. Nor is a relationship with God. Even the busiest person will find time for prayer if they really want to. Second, prayer fills the day, “at evening, morning, and midday.” This doesn’t mean speaking to God without interruption. It does mean a continual awareness of God’s presence, who might be addressed at any moment. Third, prayer isn’t bound to our mood. Forgetting prayer until a better mood arrives fails to understand that it is precisely when our mood is all wrong that we need God. Eeyore never fails to be available for his friends. Nor are we to fail to remain in community with God, through prayer. For this is a basic condition of a vital prayer life.

Joy,

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[i] Appreciation to Bill Bathurst for this observation.

[ii] Luke 18:1 (Common English Bible)

Written by Jim Mignard, a friend of Dr. Doug Hood.

“They all met together and were constantly united in prayer, along with Mary the mother of Jesus, several other women, and the brothers of Jesus.” Acts 1:14 (New Living Translation)

God invites, but never compels his people to join him in honoring his name and in carrying out his purposes.  We send our R.S.V.P. to the Father’s invitation by praying daily, as the Christians of the first century did.

The earliest disciples didn’t fuss over strategies, their knowledge of the Old Testament, sermons, or the right kind of hymnal.  Rather, after praying, they caught the fire of Pentecost (Acts 2), pushed outward, and literally changed the history of the world.

Luke’s first volume, his Gospel, climaxes with the ascension of the Lord Jesus Christ and the praying and rejoicing of the disciples (24:52f)  His second volume, Acts of the Apostles, opens with the picture of the disciples “constantly devoting themselves to prayer” (1:14).

Before the disciples appointed someone to replace Judas, they prayed (Acts 1:24). Before choosing the Seven for the work of hospitality, they prayed (Acts 6:6).  Stephen, the first Stephen Minister, prayed that the sins of those who were stoning him to death would be forgiven (Acts 7:59f).

Daily prayer for God’s work, as well as for our own needs, does not require a special vocabulary of deep understanding of the Bible.  But it does require a willingness to engage the whole person with God, and such an engagement, you will find out, is really what is meant by worship.

If it’s not your habit to pray each day, consider purchasing a collection of prayers for daily use..  A prayer, after all, is a prayer.  Or, ask someone in the church to write out for you simple prayers that show praise, adoration, and gratitude to God, and that express your desire for the furtherance of his work in your life, in your family, in our church, and throughout the world. 

Years ago, my wife and I adopted the principle of Hudson Taylor, the founder of the old China Inland Mission, on the practice of prayer: “We must learn,” he said, “to move men through God by prayer alone.”  That still holds.  It advances the gospel and builds up the church.  But most importantly, it honors God.

Joy,

Rev. Susan Sparks wrote the following meditation featured in Dr. Doug Hood’s book, A Month of Prayer and Gratitude: Five Minute Meditations for a Deeper Experience of Gratitude.

“Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good; his love endures forever.” 1 Chronicles 16:34 (Common English Bible)

Recently, I saw an image on social media that said “Life*” at the top, then underneath, in small print by the asterisk, it said: “Available for a limited time only, limit one per customer, subject to change without notice, provided ‘as is’ without any warranties, your mileage may vary.” While this was meant as something to make people laugh, it packed a powerful message. Amazingly, we tend to believe that life comes with some type of warranty that promises things will always be easy, fun, and painless. And when it’s not, we complain—incessantly.

We complain about the weather. “Oh, my goodness, it’s so cold, when will it ever stop?” Then, two months later we carp: “Oh my goodness, it’s so hot and humid, when will it ever stop?” We whine that the trains and buses are late. We moan that people are rude, the stock market hasn’t done well, or that the grocery store is out of our favorite item. Recently, I was at Whole Foods, and I heard a woman complaining to the manager that they were out of her “soymilk substitute.” First, what is soymilk substitute? And second, why would anyone want it? We waste so much time complaining about the superficial things that we miss precious seconds, hours, days, even years of our life. It’s like the Jewish prayer: “Days pass and years vanish, and we walk sightless among miracles.” We must be grateful in the good times and the bad, for in the end, it’s still life.

Warnings like “life is short,” get greeted by eye rolls and shrugs. Yes, we’ve all heard this saying many times—which is part of the problem. We have heard it so much that we have become immune to it. But there is urgency in those three short words. Things can change in the blink of an eye. We don’t know what is going to happen from one day to the next. We don’t know if we will be given tomorrow—or even the rest of today. Just look at the headlines: random shootings, tornados that tear apart entire towns, soaring cancer statistics. Life – is – short. It is also sacred. The Psalmists offered this wisdom: “You created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb … I am fearfully and wonderfully made.” (Psalm 139:13, 14). Life is the greatest, most sacred gift we have. Sure, you may think other things are important, but if you didn’t wake up this morning, then what difference would it make?

Life is short. Life is sacred. And, because of that it should be celebrated in the good times and the bad. It doesn’t matter where you find yourself: a long line at the Department of Motor Vehicles, the dentist chair, or the chemo room, it’s still life and there is joy to be found in the simple taking of a breath. The author Elisabeth Kübler-Ross wrote, “People are like stained glass windows. They sparkle and shine when the sun is out, but when the darkness sets in, their true beauty is revealed only if there is a light from within.” Find that light. Strive to be grateful in all circumstances. Use that gratitude to inspire and lift up others who are mired in difficulty. We were never guaranteed that life would be easy, or fun, or painless. Yet, even in the pain we can be grateful for the simple gift of being alive because in the end it’s still sacred, it’s still a gift, it’s still life.

Joy,

The following meditation was written by Nathanael Hood, MA, New York University; MDiv, Princeton Theological Seminary.

“But the tax collector stood at a distance. He wouldn’t even lift his eyes to look toward heaven. Rather, he struck his chest and said, ‘God, have mercy on me, a sinner.’ I tell you, this person went down to his home justified rather than the Pharisee. All who lift themselves up will be brought low, and those who make themselves low will be lifted up.'” Luke 18:13, 14 (Common English Bible)

There’s an old story that tells how once, in between his mighty battles throughout Europe, the Prussian emperor Frederick the Great visited the notorious Potsdam Prison. One by one, he spoke with various prisoners, all of whom swore up and down about their innocence. “Not I, Emperor,” shouted one. “I was framed,” vowed another. He continued his review until he came across one prisoner who, unlike his fellows, sat quietly in the corner with his head bowed, avoiding the Emperor’s gaze. Curious, the Emperor asked the prisoner who he blamed for his sentence. “Your Majesty,” the prisoner answered, “I am guilty and deserve my punishment.” Immediately, the Emperor yelled for the prison warden: “Come and get this man out of here before he corrupts all these innocent prisoners!” In that moment, the prisoner’s humility proved his salvation as the Emperor’s act of grace redeemed him of his crimes.

During his ministry, Jesus told a story not unlike Frederick the Great’s prison encounter. But instead of prisoners and convicts, Jesus’ parable focused on the Pharisees, the religious authorities of his day. Self-righteous to a fault, the only thing the Pharisees of first century Palestine loved more than being pious was bragging about being pious to anyone within earshot. For them, no good deed was worth doing unless there were witnesses, and no witnesses were more valued than the religious rank-and-file. Here in the eighteenth chapter of Luke, Jesus sets the stage: once two men went to the Jerusalem Temple to pray. One was a Pharisee, and he prayed aloud to God that he was thankful that he was better than other people. Better than robbers, he continued. Better than evildoers and adulterers, he trumpeted. Better even—turning to the second man next to him—than a tax collector. Understand that back in Jesus’ day, tax collectors were often corrupt agents of the Roman Empire. As collaborators with the army occupying their homeland, tax collectors were social pariahs among their fellow Jews. Having duly humiliated the tax collector in front of God and neighbor, the Pharisee turned the attention back on himself, crowing about his good deeds.

But the tax collector acted differently. Ashamed and embarrassed, he stood at a distance from everyone else within the crowded temple complex. Not daring to turn his eyes to the heavens, not daring to look his Lord in the face, he beat his breast and prayed “God, have mercy on me, a sinner.” Despite the man’s sins, Jesus explained, despite his economic corruption and imperial collaboration it was this tax collector who went home justified before God. It wasn’t the Pharisee, the religious expert with spotless behavior and a proven track record of good deeds, who was forgiven. No, it was the sinner who perhaps deserved punishment who received God’s forgiveness. How this must have shocked the people of Judea!

While many people probably can’t relate to the Pharisee, at some point in our lives all of us have felt like the tax collector. We know when we’ve sinned, when we’ve repaid good with evil, when we act selfishly instead of selflessly. When we pray, we come to God knowing that we have nothing to offer God than our guilt. Compare this to the Pharisee who prayed for himself—what did he stand to gain from such a prayer? His was a meaningless prayer, one that demanded nothing and therefore profited him not at all. But grace was given to the tax collector who offered nothing other than repentance. This is the model for how we should approach God in prayer: aware that we have everything to lose and everything to gain. This parable cautions us that self-satisfaction in prayer isolates us from God. The only way to approach God is on our knees.

Joy,