Nurture Faith with Dr. Doug Hood

The following meditation was written by Rev. Dr. Bruce Main, President and Founder of Urban Promise Ministries in New Jersey.

“… while it was still dark, Jesus got up and left the house…” Mark 1:35a (New International Version)

“Boil it down,” I pressed. “You’ve invested thousands of dollars and hours of meeting time … what’s the most memorable thing he ever said?”

Startled by the question, my host paused momentarily.

I actually was curious. Retaining an expensive leadership consultant is a luxury I never could afford. Here was a chance to glean good insight on someone else’s dime. Bargains are my love language. 

Given a few uninterrupted hours with a successful real estate developer (who freely operates outside the budgetary constraints of a non-profit leader), I had an opportunity to glean valuable wisdom. For over a decade, this CEO had engaged in the services of a prominent consultant, advising him on everything from complex personnel issues, strategic planning, and intergenerational leadership dynamics.

A memorable nugget of truth I desired.  

“Okay … one day our leadership team gathered for our weekly meeting,” my host reflected. “Now Bruce, you’ve got to understand these are hard-charging, Type-A real estate folk.”  I tried to imagine the scenario. He continued.

“What do you mean?” chuckled the CFO, rolling his eyes. “I pop in my Keurig K-cup, make my espresso, and head to the car.”

“My house is chaotic,” chimed another “My wife gets the kids ready for school. I just slip quietly out the back door.”

“I skim the Wall Street Journal,” added the director of sales. “Jump in my car and turn on sports talk radio.”

For the next 20 minutes, his leaders circled the conference table, sharing their morning routines.

“Here’s what I want you to do,” concluded the consultant. “Before leaving your house in the morning, find your spouse, partner or kids. Take their hand, look at them in the eye, tell them you love them, and hope they have a great day. It’ll change everything.”

Silence blanketed the room. Not the message a bunch of high-octane executive leaders wanted to hear.

“For the next two weeks,” summoned the CEO, breaking the ice. “We’ll put this challenge into practice. No results? We’ll move on.”

Two weeks later the team assembled. “It changed the dynamics of my marriage in a really positive way,” confessed one. “My kids thought it was weird at first, but now they are looking for me before I leave for work,” echoed another. “It reminded me why I go to work each day,” chimed a third. “It helped me focus on what’s really important in life. I treat my colleagues differently.”

Ironically the most consequential truth shared by the consultant had nothing to do with spread sheets, forecasting, or goal setting.  Simple. Start the day with an intention. Take an extra 60 seconds. Connect and express love to those closest to you. 

So I’ve been chewing on this idea for the past few weeks. How do I leave my house in the morning? How do I prepare my heart for what I might encounter during the day?

Reading the Bible recently, I stumbled across this verse. Jumped off the page. “Very early in the morning,” writes the gospel writer Mark. “….while it was still dark, Jesus got up, left the house and went off to a solitary place where he prayed?”

A few verses later—maybe later that morning—Jesus bumps into a leper on the road. Beautiful is his response. “Filled with compassion,” Mark emphasizes. “Jesus reached out his hand and touched the man …”  The process of healing begins with a compassionate heart.

I’ll be honest, meeting a leper at 8:10 a.m. on a Monday morning is not how I want to start my week.  Lepers were outcasts. Lepers were avoided. Lepers were the untouchables. I’m highly doubtful an abundance of compassion would flow from me.  But Jesus was ready. Dialed in, some might say. 

So it begs the question. Did Jesus respond compassionately because he’s God, and gifted a few extra compassion genes?  Or, as Christian orthodoxy ascribes, Jesus was fully human who “grew in wisdom and stature”—potentially including compassion? 

Like you and me, Jesus left his house each day to meet a complex and demanding world.  Perhaps his early routine of solitude—a few minutes of silence and prayer—opened his compassion spigot, creating a keen sense of attentiveness toward ALL who crossed his path.

Joy,

The following meditation was written by Rev. Nathanael Hood, Pastor at First Presbyterian Church of Junction City, Kansas.

“He also said to them, ‘Imagine that one of you has a friend and you go to that friend in the middle of the night. Imagine saying, “Friend, loan me three loaves of bread because a friend of mine on a journey has arrived and I have nothing to set before him.” Imagine further that he answers from within the house, “Don’t bother me. The door is already locked, and my children and I are in bed. I can’t get up to give you anything.” I assure you, even if he wouldn’t get up and help because of his friendship, he will get up and give his friend whatever he needs because of his friend’s brashness. And I tell you: Ask and you will receive. Seek and you will find. Knock and the door will be opened to you. Everyone who asks, receives. Whoever seeks, finds. To everyone who knocks, the door is opened.‘” Luke 11:5-10 (Common English Bible

It’s not an exaggeration to say that Jesus of Nazareth was one of the greatest storytellers who ever lived. How many other storytellers from antiquity remain so ubiquitous thousands of years later? I don’t just mean writers, philosophers, or even the founders of other religious traditions, I’m talking about storytellers who specialized in telling tales with a definitive beginning, middle, and end. Homer? Perhaps, but some historians question whether he was a real historical person and if his surviving works all flowed from the same pen. Aesop? Certainly many of his fables are favorites among educators of small children—The Ant and the Grasshopper, The Boy Who Cried Wolf, and The Tortoise and the Hare in particular remain perennial classics. (If I remember correctly, I’m pretty sure there are a bunch of Bugs Bunny cartoons based on that last one!) But again, many historians doubt Aesop really existed, as his stories were all handed down and collected by other writers.

Indeed, from this ancient dawn of recorded history, few storytellers that we know historically existed reign as supreme as Jesus. As with Homer and his epic poems and Aesop with his fables, Jesus specialized in a very specific kind of storytelling—the parable. Inspired by the writings of Israel’s prophets and rabbis, they are short stories that illustrate moral truths. And while Homer’s epics have gods and goddesses, witches and monsters and Aesop’s fables animals that act and talk like people, parables focus on ordinary everyday people doing everyday ordinary things with everyday ordinary objects. They are stories of shepherds tending sheep, workers tending vineyards, bakers making bread. They center on things like lost coins, wineskins, and lamps. And, importantly, their endings leave their meanings ambiguous. Many of Jesus’ parables have become so famous that even two thousand years later their characters have become archetypes in themselves: the Good Samaritan, the Prodigal Son, the Wise and Foolish Builders.

One of these parables, the Parable of the Friend at Night, is perhaps a bit lesser known than Jesus’ more famous stories, but it’s nonetheless one of our savior’s most significant for the simple reason that it is one of the only ones he told about one of his favorite topics: prayer. It starts simply enough: in the middle of the night one friend goes to the house of another friend and tells them that a hungry third friend on a journey has arrived at their house. The rules of ancient Middle Eastern hospitality required that the first friend would feed the third, but not having any bread they go to the second and ask for some. The second friend, however, presumably tired and annoyed at having been awoken, refuses. But the first friend doesn’t take no for an answer. They continue to make a scene in their doorway until the third friend relents, not because of their mutual friendship, but because they’re ashamed of the first friend’s shameless behavior.

Many commentators have mistaken their interpretation of this parable by assuming that the shameless first friend represents someone praying, their constant late-night begging prayer, and the curmudgeonly third friend God. But this depicts a capricious God that must be badgered, cajoled, and harassed before they respond. This is far from the truth! As that great writer Thomas G. Long once explained, if a shameless, annoying person might manage to humiliate another to fulfill their needs through begging, how much more will our benevolent God give to those who simply ask for things in sincere prayer? Of course, we know that oftentimes God answers our prayers with a “no,” and often for reasons we cannot understand. But what matters in this parable is that ours is not a God who must be forced, ours is a God who delights in helping those who ask for help and guidance. Ask, Jesus assures us, and you will receive. Seek, he tells us, and you will find. Knock, he explains, and the door will be opened to you.

Joy,

“Jesus replied, ‘My kingdom doesn’t originate from this world. If it did, my guards would fight so that I wouldn’t have been arrested by the Jewish leaders. My kingdom isn’t from here.’” John 18:36 (Common English Bible)

This is a remarkable passage of scripture! Captured here is Jesus’ own denial; Jesus’ denial of sovereign territory, “My kingdom isn’t from here.” From inside the governor’s house, a center of power for a defined territory, Jesus disclaims royal territory. Certainly, Jesus’ denial is on the geographical level, his royal authority lies elsewhere. This confuses Pilate. For Pilate—and for us—sovereignty implies a specific place, such as the British Empire. That empire has clearly defined borders, though the contours have changed over history. Christ denies any claim to this kind of power or rule. Incredibly, Christ seems to be placing his credibility on the line.

Many are well familiar with Peter’s denial. On the night of Jesus’ arrest, Peter denies three times ever knowing the man, Jesus. Yet, that same night, Jesus is also making a denial. The difference between Peter’s denial and Jesus’ own denial is not subtle. Peter’s denial is about self-preservation; Peter fears arrest if he is honest about his relationship with Jesus. Jesus’ denial is something much deeper than self-preservation. Jesus is pointing from the physical world to the spiritual. The exchange between Pilate and Jesus becomes a struggle between political power and spiritual power. Political power exerts its influence on people’s outward behavior. Spiritual power changes people from the inside.

One Easter morning a couple spoke to me following the first service. They said they had lived only a few blocks from the church for years and had never worshipped with us before that morning. They continued by sharing that though they had not worshipped before, they were always grateful that the church was here. Politely and carefully, I asked, “Why?” “Why were they grateful that the church was here?” Their answer, “Each day the church reminds us that there is something more.” They promised to return and then proceeded to walk down the street—presumably to their home. Spiritual power is about something more than the eye can see, “My kingdom isn’t from here.”

Jesus’ denial is all about lifting our eyes above political alliances, carefully defined and defended borders, and self-preservation. Jesus wants, “something more” for each of us. Political power bends a people to the will of the state. Spiritual power molds and shapes a people to the wholeness God once fashioned at creation, but lost through rebellion and estrangement from God. Jesus confrontation with our political systems, in the form of Pilate, suggests that his kingship not only challenges the political state, it judges and calls into question the ability of the state to provide the life God desires for us. It would appear in the crucifixion of Jesus that Pilate won, that the political systems of the day have the upper hand. Nevertheless, the resurrection remains only a few days away.

Joy,

“I do this one thing: I forget about the things behind me and reach out for the things ahead of me.” Philippians 3: 13b (Common English Bible)

How do you view the past? That is a good question for any of us. Or consider another question – Does the past have power over you? Are there regrets that interfere with your well-being and, consequently, the well-being of those who know you and love you? Perhaps thoughts of hurting someone or betraying someone continue to bobble-up into the present with the unfortunate result of self-recrimination. Have you taken all your mistakes and failures of the past and carefully preserved them in a time capsule that you open far too often. Each time the time capsule is opened you hand power to the past to beat yourself up and interfere with your ability to be your best self. Dwelling on the past offers one thing – self-condemnation.

Self-condemnation influences the way we think and how we live in the present. Self-condemnation gift-wraps and hands us a “loser-limp”—a term I learned from Zig Zigler which simply means that we limp through life as though we have an injury from the past. Those with a loser-limp conclude that the past is responsible for a miserable present and there is nothing that can be done. A limp is a limp, and we must learn to adapt. What many fail to grasp is that punishing yourself for the past does not change the past. And the only thing worse than a mistake or failure in the past is to live poorly into the future. An example would be a young person who once tried a dating website only to experience failure in finding a meaningful relationship. They now choose self-pity rather than, as the apostle Paul puts it, “reach out for the things ahead of me.”

Paul does not indulge in self-loathing, self-pity, or self-recrimination. Remember, it was Paul that held the coats of men while they stoned Stephen, an early Christian, to death simply because of his faith in Christ. Those who stoned Stephen asked Paul to hold their coats so they would have maximum range of arm movement in throwing the stones at Stephen. Paul is now a great evangelist for Jesus Christ. What Paul is teaching the church in Philippi is that he refuses to give power to his past. Paul refuses the “loser-limp” mentality because the work ahead of him is too important to be hindered with baggage from past failures, mistakes, and disappointments. The past cannot be changed. And punishing himself for the past only enables self-destructive behavior. Paul will permit nothing from interfering with him from being his best self for Jesus.

When one sets their eyes upon what is ahead of them—not what is behind them—hope flourishes. That is because we do not heal the past, says Marianne Williamson, by dwelling there. We heal the past by living fully in the present.¹ The past may hold lessons for the present and the future. Wisdom instructs that we visit the past only for what we can learn and then turn our attention immediately to the present. That is when our thinking shifts and our behavior changes. Thomas Edison was found one morning standing before the charred ruins of his laboratory in Princeton, New Jersey, after a fire. When condolences were offered, he responded that he was grateful for the fire. Edison continued that a good many of his past failures were destroyed. Now they would not be around to tease him as he continued his pursuits of ideas that would improve life for everyone. Or, as Paul teaches, “I forget about the things behind me and reach out for the things ahead of me.”

Joy,

___________________

¹ Marianne Williamson, 13 Things Mentally Strong People Don’t Do. (New York, NY: William Morrow: An Imprint of Harper Collins Publishers, 2017) p. 129

The following meditation was written by Dr. Aaron Janklow, senior pastor and head of staff of Madison Avenue Presbyterian Church in New York City.

“I pray that the eyes of your heart will have enough light to see what is the hope of God’s call, what is the richness of God’s glorious inheritance among believers, and what is the overwhelming greatness of God’s power that is working among us believers. This power is conferred by the energy of God’s powerful strength.” Ephesians 1:18, 19

One of my favorite Bible verses is Isaiah 40:31, “Those who hope upon the Lord will renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.” This verse is extremely meaningful to me because it describes how hope in God encourages and shapes us in the current moment. Hope entails a desire for something more than our current circumstances and grants us the strength to persevere as we wait for what we hope for to be realized.

As demonstrated here in Paul’s prayer for the Ephesians, prayer and hope are intertwined. Hope is a powerful trait that enables us to live more fully into the promises of God through faith. Hope, as expressed in the Bible, is not just desiring and wanting something more or different, it is having reason to believe that it can actually come to be. Ultimately, hope is rooted in the character of God, and it is the love and power of God revealed in Jesus Christ, that gives us our basis for hope. Afterall, as we see in the crucifixion and resurrection, if God can overcome the cross, then “with God all things are possible” (Matthew 19:26).

While their immediate context did not match the promised, hoped-for reality in God, Paul seeks to encourage the church in Ephesus to remain steadfast in faith by acknowledging “God’s glorious inheritance among believers” and “the overwhelming greatness of God’s power.” His message is not much different from Isaiah’s message to the Israelites about hoping in the Lord, which gives me great strength. Paul believes that hope for the future promises of God will give “power” to the church today.

Returning again to my favorite Bible passage from Isaiah 40:31, “Those who hope upon the Lord will renew their strength,” some translations use the word “wait” instead of “hope.” While I prefer the word “hope,” I believe both translations point to the same truth—that as we wait for what we hope for, we must draw upon the strength that comes through faith in God. Paul states elsewhere in Romans 12:12, “Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer.” When we pray for what we hope and long for, we acknowledge the difference between our current reality and God’s promise. Rather than letting that difference or the “tribulations” we face lead to resignation, hope strengthens us to persevere and live with the assurance of God’s love no matter the circumstance, even as we may need to wait.

When we pray for what we hope for, we are ultimately making a declaration of faith. Rather than surrendering to the status quo, no matter what that may be, or anything shy of the full realization of God’s presence, love, and grace in our lives, in prayer, we acknowledge that there is more to us and this world than we currently experience. Prayer is the powerful act of sharing our hopes with God and acknowledging that we need help beyond what we can provide for ourselves, and that God can answer that need. Prayer is a statement of faith that “with God all things are possible.” Perhaps, more than we can even imagine. In other words, prayer helps us to live by faith. Prayer keeps us rooted in the hope and character of God and reminds us of the “glorious inheritance” that is ours as believers, helping us to navigate the world before us with purpose and hope.

Joy,

The following meditation was written by Dr. Aaron Janklow, senior pastor and head of staff at Madison Avenue Presbyterian Church in New York City.

“In the same way, the Spirit comes to help our weakness. We don’t know what we should pray, but the Spirit himself pleads our case with unexpressed groans. The one who searches hearts knows how the Spirit thinks, because he pleads for the saints, consistent with God’s will.” Romans 8:26,27 (Common English Bible)

Several years ago, I was invited to preside at the wedding of a former youth group member in northern Michigan. One evening, my wife and I were walking along a dark forested path from the rehearsal dinner to our hotel room along the shore of Lake Michigan. We could only see some of the path in front of us, as we heard gentle waves along the shore. As we were nearing the hotel, there was a clearing in the trees, and we looked up and saw a sky filled with more stars than I could count. It was an incredible, awe-inspiring experience. It felt as if I could see the curvature of the earth by looking up. As I recall this experience, I’m reminded of God creating a “dome” and calling it sky (Genesis 1:8).

Having spent most of my life in major metropolitan areas such as South Florida and now New York City, I’d never seen a sky so full of stars, and it was incredible. As my wife and I stood there looking up at the stars, my wife remarked, “This might be pretty close to what Jesus saw when he looked up.” This remark amazed me. With all the changes in our world, except for the space station and satellites put into orbit by humanity, the sky remains mostly untouched by the advancements of our world, and what I was looking at might have been very close to what Jesus, Abraham, Ruth, and others from the Bible saw.  

Looking up at the magnificence of the stars gave me the same feeling I have when looking out at the ocean, which is again captured by a psalm, “When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars that you have established; what are human beings that you are mindful of them, mortals that you care for them?” Instead of feeling inferior by the immensity of the universe or ocean, as Psalm 8 describes, how amazing it is to feel known and loved by God who created it all.

Rather than awe leading a humility that realizes our shortcomings and renders us silent before the One who made it all, may it move us to a deeper relationship through prayer. Paul tells the Romans, “We don’t know what we should pray, but the Spirit himself pleads our case with unexpressed groans.” Indeed, filled with awe at the work of creation, we may realize how far short our words come to the glory God deserves, but we are not called to remain silent. Instead, we are called to adoration, worship, and as Jesus instructs and demonstrates, prayer.

In addition to the stars being drowned out by the lights of the city, there is so much to occupy our thoughts, sometimes worthwhile, sometimes distracting, and sometimes incredibly concerning, that we fail to notice the blessings of our lives, the presence of God. In other words, we become so encumbered by the immediate world around us that we fail to “look up to God.”

Amid all there is to keep our hearts and minds distracted on the “horizontal,” the world immediately before us, prayer refocuses us on the “vertical,” reminding us of God’s love for us. It is all too easy to be overwhelmed by life’s immediate concerns, but an awe inspired prayer helps ground us in the full reality of who God is. The God who created the heavens, who sent Jesus Christ out of love for the world, and who maintains relationship with us throughout all the vicissitudes of life.

Despite all the passing generations, the same God who created the heavens and the earth is the same God we pray to. Moved to prayer through a feeling of awe isn’t to escape our immediate needs or concerns, or those of the world around us, but to be strengthened in our knowledge of God’s grace so that we can navigate the world around us with the assurance of God’s love for each of us.

Joy,

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

What is so remarkable about these words is that they are spoken by a man in chains. Paul is a prisoner in Rome. In a life dedicated to serving Christ, Paul has endured much—shipwreck, ridicule, hunger, and excruciating poverty. Now he sits in a Roman prison and writes that whatever the circumstances, Paul has learned the secret of inner strength and contentment. Perhaps even more remarkable, Paul lays aside his own needs and concerns to write a deeply personal letter to the Philippians to encourage them in their faith. Despite his imprisonment and impending trial, Paul’s one desire is to share with the church in Philippi that joy and strength do not come from outward circumstances but from an intimate relationship with Jesus. That power is so tremendous and so available that Paul feels he can face anything knowing that nothing can diminish his spirit. His spirit was invulnerable. Paul wants the Philippians to utilize that same power.

The interesting thing about the New Testament is that we find that same power animating most of the early Christians. A profession of faith in Jesus usually pushed people to the margins of their communities. Families were torn apart—mothers and daughters, fathers and sons no longer in relationship with one another because one or the other decided to become a follower of Jesus. Worship services were conducted in secret and often disrupted by Jewish leaders eager to destroy the Jesus movement. The worst tortures that could be imagined were invented and performed to discourage participation in the new Christian faith. There was every reason for ignoring the swelling growth of the Christian Church, keeping your head down, and simply avoiding trouble. Yet, for all the compelling reasons to remain separate from those following Jesus, men and women who risked believing in Jesus made one dominating impression wherever they went, the impression of uncommon power.

That power has not been withdrawn. It is not a closely guarded secret. Where men and women continue to take Christ’s attitude of loving others and serving others that same power is unmistakable. What is troubling is that few would say that the church today impresses the world with the same power as it once did. Somehow those who claim discipleship to Jesus Christ show little evidence of a changed life, a life of uncommon power. Absent in many Christians today is a sense of adequacy for meeting challenges and adversity. Membership and attendance decline of the Christian church has been tracked and documented for many years now. This has resulted in the publication of resources to perfect the church’s hospitality, increase the vitality of its worship, and harness the power of technology. However valuable these may be, the most urgent need is for followers of Jesus Christ to get back to that power that is possessed by the daily nurture of a personal fellowship with Jesus.

Return for a moment to the first two words above, “I can.” Some years ago, I was working with a personal trainer, Michael Bishop. One particular day he had me on my back, bench pressing what seemed to be an incredible weight for me. After pushing the bar above my head several times, I did a controlled drop of the bar to my chest. I was depleted. I delivered an eye message to him to remove the bar from my chest. I will never forget his response, “That’s not my bar. You place it back on the upright supports.” Then he did what his training taught him to do. He placed his hands around the bar with my own. That was simply to ensure that I didn’t hurt myself. But the lifting belonged to me. I pushed with everything in me; I summoned all the power I could to lift the bar back onto the supports. As my strength began to fail, he matched the loss of my strength with his own until the bar had returned to rest on the support. Paul writes, “I can, through the power who gives me strength.” If you are depressed or in trouble, say, “I can in him” and you will find God’s strength comes alongside your own. If you struggle with passions or addictions that frighten you, or if you feel that you are losing your grip on life, say, “I can in him” and you will discover an unseen hand on the bar with your own, matching your strength. The Christian’s strength begins with, “I can.”

Joy,

The following meditation was written by Dr. Doug Hood’s son, Rev. Nathanael Hood, pastor at First Presbyterian Church of Junction City, Kansas.

Early in the morning as Jesus was returning to the city, he was hungry. He saw a fig tree along the road, but when he came to it, he found nothing except leaves. Then he said to it, “You’ll never again bear fruit!” The fig tree dried up at once. When the disciples saw it, they were amazed. “How did the fig tree dry up so fast?” they asked. Jesus responded, “I assure you that if you have faith and don’t doubt, you will not only do what was done to the fig tree. You will even say to this mountain, ‘Be lifted up and thrown into the lake.’ And it will happen. If you have faith, you will receive whatever you pray for.” Matthew 21:18-22 (Common English Bible)

In all the New Testament, few incidents are more famous than the time that Jesus Christ threw a group of money changers out of the Temple in Jerusalem. He’s so enraged by the sight of money changers and merchants selling animals for sacrifices that he flips over their tables and calls them crooks! The Gospel of Matthew goes on to describe that after turning the money changers out, Jesus started to heal those blind and lame people already there in the Temple, and yet in the face of these miracles, the Temple priests still challenge him and his authority! I don’t know about you, but I understand Jesus’ anger in that moment—how willfully ignorant must the Jewish authorities have been to witness literal miracles and yet still question the man performing them!

Yet Jesus’ anger doesn’t end there. Even after spending a night in the nearby city of Bethany to cool off, Jesus was apparently still in a fiery enough mood the next day that when he encountered a barren fig tree along the road back to Jerusalem he cursed it, causing the tree to dry up and die. His disciples, the men who had seen him heal the sick, raise the dead, and feed the multitudes, were amazed! How did that fig tree dry up so fast, they asked their master in bewilderment. To this, Jesus answered, “I assure you that if you have faith and don’t doubt, you will not only do what was done to the fig tree. You will even say to this mountain, ‘Be lifted up and thrown into the lake.’ And it will happen. If you have faith, you will receive whatever you pray for.” These are wise words about the effectiveness of prayer and faith, but it’s important to note Jesus’ temperament during this lesson, for it proves an important point about when Jesus wants us to pray—that being when we’re angry.

See, this text is somewhat controversial among biblical scholars and people who are just starting out on their journey through scripture because it’s one of the only times—if not the only time—that Jesus does something destructive in the Bible. Strange, this, am I right? Now, commentators throughout church history have struggled to explain this bizarre event as somehow being symbolic. Perhaps. But I think it’s important not to ignore the surface of this text which is that, quite simply, Jesus was hungry and, not finding figs on a fig tree, got angry. We tend to shy away from expressions of anger in our society, particularly in holy places, but in this text we see God not just getting angry but acting upon said anger and then, presumably while still angry, discoursing about prayer. I think the simple lesson here is that anger is not incompatible with prayer. On the contrary, I believe that this passage illustrates that it’s precisely when we’re the most angry that we most need to communicate with God.

Why is that? Well, ask yourself what is anger, when you get right down to it? It’s an assertion, a demand to be heard. Anger disrupts, anger gets peoples’ attention, anger gets things done—maybe not always the right things, maybe not always the godly things, but it gets things done nevertheless. Remember—God is no stranger to anger. God spoke words of great fire and fury through the ancient prophets in the face of societal corruption and evil. God violently routed enemy armies and doomed God’s own kings for their wickedness. God gets angry! So it’s okay for us to get angry as well! Indeed, God demands our anger in the face of evil and injustice. What matters is how we use that anger. Do we let it consume us, hurt others, and destroy? No, may we instead take our anger and offer it to God, asking our Father in heaven how best to use it for his purposes, for his designs, for his justice.

Joy,

The following meditation was written by Dr. Doug Hood’s son, Rev. Nathanael Hood, Pastor at First Presbyterian Church of Junction City, Kansas.

“Ask, and you will receive. Search, and you will find. Knock, and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks, receives. Whoever seeks, finds. And to everyone who knocks, the door is opened. Who among you will give your children a stone when they ask for bread? Or give them a snake when they ask for fish? If you who are evil know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your heavenly Father give good things to those who ask him.” Matthew 7:7-11 (Common English Bible)

There’s a famous scene in Steven Spielberg’s Hook (1991) where the former Peter Pan—now all grown up and played by Robin Williams—sits down for a meal in Neverland with the Lost Boys he abandoned decades ago. The Boys’ new leader, the fiery, charismatic Rufio (Dante Basco) takes his seat at their long table and unexpectedly holds his hands together in prayer. Everyone, Williams included, does the same, bowing their heads and closing their eyes in reverence.

“Everybody say grace,” Rufio sternly commands.

“Bless this, Oh Lord…” Robin begins before he’s suddenly cut off by the sound of everyone at the table loudly shouting “GRACE!” then maniacally grabbing at the food in front of them.

It’s a wonderful moment, but one can’t help but wonder if this portrayal of prayer isn’t somehow an accurate one for many Christians. How many among us view prayer as just magic words or mystic incantations one says out of habit, not devotion?

Jesus addresses such performative piety in his Sermon on the Mount, specifically in a brief aside during a length list of moral commandments. “Ask, and you will receive,” Jesus commands in verse seven, “Search, and you will find. Knock, and the door will be opened to you.”There are three operative words in this verse, three words which break down exactly how the act of prayer should be done: “Ask,” “Search” or the more common translation “Seek,” and “Knock.”

Ask, Seek, Knock.

“Ask, and you will receive. Seek, and you will find.

Knock, and the door will be opened to you.”

But what exactly does it mean to ask, seek, and knock? First, to ask is to admit to ourselves that we have problems in the first place! It’s to admit that there’s something out of the ordinary in our lives that needs help we cannot provide ourselves. For some of us, that’s impossible. Many are overburdened with pride. For example, while working in an inner city hospital early in my career, I learned that some poor people refuse monetary aid or handouts because they report that accepting them makes them feel like they’re admitting to personal failure in their lives. Likewise, many of us are yoked with the terrible weight of vanity which balks at the suggestion that one might have any needs or weaknesses in the first place. The obituary pages are full of such people who let their vanity get the best of them. If only they had the courage to ask for help!

Second, what does it mean to seek and knock? Both are verbs that denote continued actions. If you lose something valuable you don’t give up the search after a few seconds. Likewise, when you knock on someone’s door you don’t just knock once and hope whoever is inside hears you. You bang on the door until someone responds! Therefore, to seek and to knock are to have perseverance when we pray. Even though we believe that God answers prayers, Jesus expects us to pray for things repeatedly, even the same things we’ve prayed countless times for. I think of Jesus’ parable in Luke 18 of the Persistent Widow who petitions a corrupt judge for justice over and over and over again until he finally relents. If an evil man will eventually do what’s right when asked enough times, how much more powerfully will our perfectly loving, perfectly just, perfectly righteous God respond to us if we are persistent in prayer? Only by being persistent can we truly establish a relationship with our God, and in that relationship we will find something greater than just an answer to our prayers. We will find in God a companion, a friend, a Father. Amen.

Joy,

“He lifted me out of the pit of death, out of the mud and filth, and set my feet on solid rock. He steadied my legs.” Psalm 40:2 (Common English Bible)

Here is a life that many of us understand. Life is characterized as being a “pit of death—a life of mud and filth.” This poignant description betrays that present circumstances did not simply fall upon the one who speaks. “Mud and filth” are not the consequence of disadvantage, not the result of some disaster or illness that comes without personal consent. Rather, this decay of a personal experience of life has been fashioned by intentional choices, one bad choice following another. Perhaps the choices made were hesitant at first, slow, and then questioned. But once a descent into careless living began, movement became more swift and confident. Delight in drinking, or gambling, or immoral behavior brought increasing pleasure.

Then comes the collapse of all self-worth, a reckoning of the internal depravity that begins to reveal itself in physical appearance and behavior. The face can no longer hide the ruin of the interior life. Others clearly see the writing of the unfortunate choices written upon the man or woman. The signs of rot and disorder grow stronger and clearer. Any good or decency that remains continues to diminish until it is nearly smothered as the tyranny of the immoral life assumes command. The individual—both body and soul—once a sweet habitation of all that is good, decent, and holy now entertains what is corrupt and evil. Choices, once deliberate, now are in control. The man or woman is now held hostage in a “pit of death.”

Then comes a cry for help. What once was pleasurable has become agony—what once was pursued has become a master. The cry of desperation is made to Almighty God. Some years ago when my daughter, Rachael, was quite young I overheard her telling other little girls her faith story. With four other sets of eyes mesmerized by the narrative that flowed from her libs I heard, “I was a slave girl in Egypt and Pharaoh was so mean to me. But my God is bigger than Pharaoh and God came one day, beat Pharaoh up, and brought me home.” For a four-year-old girl, this was her understanding of the Exodus story she had heard from her father so many times. The message was clear and certain. She could count on God.

The one who shares this faith story in Psalm 40 knows they can count on God. A cry of desperation is made to Almighty God to come, overwhelm the master that holds them captive in “a pit of death” and bring them home. The cry may be made at the eleventh hour but God comes. God comes without ridicule, and without mockery, or taunts of “I told you so.” God simply comes. From the place of captivity of whatever enslavement, whatever addiction that holds a grip upon the man or woman, the hand of God appears. That hand is stronger. Once more, the enslaved is brought home. His or her feet are set on solid ground, strength is returned to the legs, and life is steadied. A nightmare of horrible dreams ends.

Joy,