(Meditation for Gayton Road Christian Church's Worship on July 7, 2019, Proper 9)
Prayers That Linger
I
heard the story once of a young child who had seen a homeless man on the street
corner. At dinner that night, he
asked his parents if he could give the blessing. He prayed not only that God would bless the food on his
family’s table but also that God would bless the man without food. His heartfelt prayer lingered over the
table even as he finished the blessing and they began eating. As plates passed hands, the man on the
street corner passed continually before their minds’ eyes.
By
the time dinner was over, they were of one mind. Together they got into their car and returned to the street
corner, where they shared with the man bags filled with food. Their short time together felt precious
and holy. They could feel the
rough grit of the sidewalk under their shoes, and it felt holy. They could feel the soft halo of light
from the street lamp above, and it felt holy. When they departed, the man blessed them.
Have
you ever prayed a prayer that took on flesh?
Maybe
you prayed for a friend who was sick, but the prayer felt somehow incomplete,
and later you found yourself writing a note to let them know you cared and you
were there for them. Maybe you
prayed for a brother or sister, or son or daughter who was having a tough time,
but the prayer felt somehow lacking, and later you found yourself calling them
up on the phone, not knowing what you wanted to say, knowing only that you didn’t
want them to feel alone.
Jesus Gives Flesh
to the God for Whom He Prays
The
Lord’s Prayer is a little bit like all these prayers. It is ultimately a prayer that takes on flesh.
To
begin with, the Lord’s Prayer is a prayer for here not there. We need you here, God, with us. Your kingdom come here on earth as it is in heaven (cf.
11:2). It is a prayer for now not
later. We need you with us today;
we need our daily bread (cf. 11:3). And it is always “we,” not “me.” “Give us…forgive us…do not
bring us” (11:3-4). It is a prayer that presumes community.
So
Jesus is praying that God would be present here, now, in community.
But
like the little boy at the dinner table, or like you when you’ve prayed for
your sick friend, Jesus can’t leave his prayer there. His prayer gets up off its knees and goes into action. Notice the one commitment Jesus makes
in his prayer: “For we ourselves forgive everyone indebted to us” (11:4). In other words, Jesus, who is desperate
to know God here and now in community, commits to doing the very thing that
will make that possible. For isn’t
forgiveness one of the fundamental ways that we know God’s love here and now in
the midst of our faults and failures?
And isn’t forgiveness the main thread of community, what transforms
enemies into friends and strangers into brothers and sisters?
By
forgiving others, Jesus gives flesh to the God for whom he prays. He gives flesh to the God of beloved
community, the God who is with us here and now.
The Handshake of God
Because
we have prayed the Lord’s Prayer ourselves, I would like to invite us to give
it flesh as well. As an expression
of our peace and our unity together, I invite us now with each hand to take the
hand of a neighbor, so that we might form a human circle or thread.
Now close your
eyes. I am going to squeeze the
hand of my neighbor. When you feel
one of your hands squeezed, open your eyes and then squeeze your other neighbor’s
hand. And I would invite you as we
do this to wonder: could this be the God from our prayers taking on flesh? Could this be the very handshake of God?
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