Teach us how to pray: the best question a disciple can ask

Colossians 2.6-19, Luke 11.1-13 

The Sixth Sunday after Trinity, 28 July 2019

Austwick, Clapham, Keasden

 

Today's gospel reading shows Jesus' disciples in a better light than usual. Often we see them bickering with each other about who is the greatest, who'll be sat next to Jesus in heaven, or falling asleep or running away just when Jesus needed them most. The disciples were good at letting themselves and Jesus down, a lot of the time. Sound familiar to you? It does to me. 

But here they are, hanging around while Jesus went off to pray, and taking an interest in what he's doing. One disciple, unnamed, perhaps put up to it by the others, comes to Jesus with what is now an immortal request: "Lord, teach us to pray." 

It's one of the best questions any disciple ever asked. Because not only did Jesus's answer take the form of a prayer which has endured throughout all the centuries and sustained so many people in our faith; but the disciple asking the question means that it's ok for us diciples to ask the same: Lord, we don't know how to pray, we want to learn but we're not sure how to do it, please teach us to pray. 

If you feel your prayer life is no good - weak, sporadic, lacking faith, then you are in good company. Even the best disciples throughout the years have felt that way. Many church leaders feel that way too. I know I do, very often. 

Sometimes we feel that way because we'e been led to believe that there's only one particular way to pray - or place to pray, or times of day. When actually there are many, many ways to pray. For  everybody prays, sometimes. Whether we think of it as prayer or not. 

Those cries for help when we're in some sort of trouble. Those silences we fall into when something beautiful is happening, or something very good or very bad. The sounds we make when we see a new-born baby for the first time, or when we see fantastic runs being scored at cricket. The feelings engendered when a piece of music connects with us. These are all prayers in their own way. They all come from deep inside us and they connect somewhere outside us, real, familiar and yet also strange. 

Now, according to Jesus, by far the most important thing about praying is to keep at it. That's why, after teaching his disciples the prayer to the Father, he told the story of the man who came to his friend at midnight asking for bread: Because of his persistence he gave him what he needed. Keep on praying. On this point, at least, all the religions of the world agree. 

Some people of course, have doubts about prayer, not even sure there's anyone listening. And that's understandable if you've been praying for years for something that still hasn't happened, or if you're going through a trauma which seems like it will never end. But even if you don't think that God is there, whatever else it may or may not be, prayer is at the very least talking to yourself, and even that, in itself, is not a bad idea. 

If you can't believe God is listening, you can still talk to yourself about your own life, about what you've done and what you've failed to do, and about who you are and who you wish you were and who the people you love are and the people you don't love too. Talk to yourself about what matters most to you, because if you don't, you may forget what matters most to you. Even if you don't believe anybody's listening, at least you'll be listening. 

But Jesus encourages us to believe somebody is listening. I remember my first attempt at prayer, as a youngster many years ago, which went something like this: "God, I'm not sure if you're there, but if you are, let me know, I want to know." It may be the best prayer I ever prayed. For, over time, God has let me know. Still is letting me know that he's there. 

Jesus wanted his disciples to believe somebody is listening. He wanted them to believe in miracles. He wanted them to believe in a generous, gracious, kindly God. A God who will give us each day our daily bread.  A God who will forgive us our sins and who will help us grow a joyful and generous spirit so we can forgive those who hurt us. A God who does not want to bring us trials. 

That's what Jesus meant by asking the question about a father who, if his child asks for a fish, would gave him a snake instead, or if his child asks for an egg, would gave him a scorpion? No - everyone who asks receives from God, everyone who seeks finds. Even those who find it hard believing in the power of prayer. 

In Mark's gospel we read about the father who asked Jesus if he could heal his epileptic son. Jesus said, "All things are possible to him who believes." And the father spoke for all of us when he answered, "Lord, I believe; help my unbelief!”. 

What about when the boy isn't healed? When, listened to or not listened to, the prayer goes unanswered? Who knows? Just keep praying, Jesus says. Even if the boy dies, keep on knocking on God's door, because the one thing you can be sure of is that from behind that door you knock on with even your most awkward and halting prayer, God will finally come, and even if he doesn't bring you the answer you want, he will bring you himself. 

Maybe at the secret heart of all our prayers that is what we are really praying for. For God to come to us. When all our words run out, we can still listen out for God. When all our ideas come to nothing, there is still silence. And in the silence, if we tune our ears, we can hear God. "Be still, and know that I am God" it says in Psalm 46. 

And prayer is not just us talking to God. It's us listening for God. Prayer is God talking to us. Prayer is us looking out for God. Prayer is God showing himself to us. 

I think we understand all this at some deep level of our lives. That’s why we pray, "Our Father," because we instinctively know that we are loved from heaven and listened to in the deepest way. Prayer is what we say, but it is also how God responds, gently, quietly, when we're not especially expecting any reply.

So if you feel you're no good at praying, if you think you don't pray very often or even at all, I'm not so sure. You might consider stopping to think again. 

In his letter to the Colossians, Paul wrote, ‘As you therefore have received Christ Jesus the Lord, continue to live your lives in him, rooted and built up in him and established in the faith, just as you were taught, abounding in thanksgiving.’

How can you 'live your life in him'? By putting prayer at the heart of everything you do and say. 

How can you be 'rooted and built up in him’? By keeping asking Jesus the question he longs to hear you say: 'Lord, teach me how to pray'.

How can you become 'established in the faith'? By listening out for Jesus in prayer, and learning how to hear him speaking to you.

 

Notes 

Previously preached in more or less this form at The Good Shepherd, Croxteth, 2010 and St Christopher's Norris Green, 2004, this sermon borrows a great deal from Prayer in Frederick Buechner: Wishful Thinking, a Seeker's ABC and a Liverpool Blue Coat School talk on Prayer and Meditation, 2003.

Comments

[Morning Prayer Fan]

Your reflection beautifully captures the disciples’ humanity and their timeless plea, “Lord, teach us to pray,” a question that invites us all to approach God, even in our doubts. I love how you see prayer in everyday moments—cries for help, silent awe, or joy at life’s wonders—and remind us that persisting in it connects us to a generous God. It’s comforting to know that even when answers don’t come, God still shows up, gently meeting us in the silence.