I’d like to welcome those of you who are guests this morning. I feel a bit like a guest myself. I’ve been on sabbatical for thirty days. It’s my first Sunday to preach at Highland since the end of June. As far as some of you know, Eric Gentry is the preacher for Highland. I’m just some middle-aged guy who showed up this morning.
Speaking of Eric, I’d like to publically thank him. He preached 3 of the 4 Sundays while I was gone. Didn’t he do a terrific job? I loved getting to hear him preach. Eric’s got the rare ability to give us both depth and relevance. I’m definitely a better follower of Jesus from listening to him.
And, I’m thankful for the leadership Eric provided in my absence as well. Eric handled all kinds of leadership issues in my absence. He tells me after this last month, he’s ready to retire!
I also want to thank Frank Bolling, our preaching apprentice. Frank peached one of the Sundays I was gone. I got to hear that sermon and I loved it. I can’t wait to see what God has in store for Frank and Megan when Frank’s done at HST.
And I’d like to thank our elders who granted me this sabbatical. These are important times for sharpening and renewal provided generously by our elders each 7 years.
Some of you know that I spent these 30 days mostly in silence. I was engaged in a series of 500 year old spiritual exercises developed by a man named Ignatius. It involved about 6 hours of silent meditation each day on Scripture and prayers-all focused on the life, death and resurrection of Jesus.
If you’re interested in some highlights, I captured some of them in a series on my blog called “30 days of mostly silence.”
That silence wasn’t always easy to come by. I spent a lot of time at the Memphis Botanic Garden, figuring it would be a quiet place. I remember one morning I sat on a bench in the Japanese garden and started writing in my journal. Within moments a flock of hungry honking geese huddled around me, looking like they might eat me. Then a trio of people wandered over to check out the geese. One of the gentlemen sat down on the bench next to me and started chatting. I wanted to tell the geese and the man and his two friends, “Would you shut up and get out of here?! I am trying to have some quiet time so I can become more like Jesus!” But I figured that defeated the point, didn’t it? Besides that, I wasn’t supposed to be talking.
A lot of you have asked, “How was/is your sabbatical?” It’s been hard to find a one-word answer to that. It was pleasurable. But it was also painful. I spent a week meditating on my own sin. I spent another week contemplating the death of Jesus. These are sobering matters. But in the end, I can definitely say that I experienced God deeper than ever before. And I can say that I learned a lot about prayer.
And prayer is where we are headed this morning. We’ve been following Jesus for 14 weeks. For 14 Sundays we’ve gathered to listen to Mark’s account of Jesus. And it might surprise you to realize that it’s only today, in week 14, that we finally get a prayer from Jesus’ lips. I mentioned in my last sermon at Highland, at the end of June, that Mark writes often about Jesus praying. But it’s only here, in Mk 14, that we finally hear an actual prayer from Jesus’ lips. We know Jesus has prayed many prayers before this. But this is the first prayer in which Mark actually gives us the words Jesus prayed. There must have been something pretty important about this prayer for Mark to highlight it.
As we’ll see in just a moment, one of the striking things about this prayer is its simplicity. It’s really just four lines. It’s made of about 20 words in our English translations. It’s a very simple prayer.
And that’s significant. Because one of the most important things about prayer that Jesus teaches us is that prayer doesn’t have to be complex. It can be simple.
Timothy Jones once wrote a book entitled The Art of Prayer. In it, he tells of a time he was with his parents in France. He was a high school student and had completed two years of French. He was hardly fluent. Still, every time they needed a bathroom in France, wanted to find a café, or needed assistance, the parents asked Timothy to use his French. He generally butchered the language. But, he writes, most people warmly received his efforts. He tells it this way:
“They strained to hear past my fractured sentences. They honored me by responding. Is God any less generous? He hears all that arises from us—the words of our mouth, the longings of our hearts, the thoughts of our minds, the intentions of our wills. Regret, grief, thanksgiving, hope—God hears our emotions, not just our grammar. Because of his grace, not our eloquence, we can pray. Even if we stammer.”[1]
Even though Jones messed up the grammar of his French, people still listened to him and helped him. They showed grace. The same is true regarding God and prayer. Prayer relies upon God’s grace, not upon our grammar. Prayer relies upon what? Upon God’s ____? And prayer does not rely upon what? It does not rely upon our ____? That is, we don’t have to use just the right words in just the right way to pray.
And because prayer relies on God’s grace and not our grammar, it is easier than we think. That’s not to say there are things we need to learn about prayer. But it is to say that, at its core, prayer flows by God’s grace, not our grammar. It’s simple. Doesn’t have to be rocket science.
This is what we find in this first prayer in Mark’s Gospel. Perhaps it’s one of the things that drew Mark to it. Four lines. About twenty words.
So if you’re here this morning, and you haven’t been praying, and one of the reasons you haven’t been praying is that you feel like you keep messing up the grammar, I want to encourage you. Don’t try to get prayer all figured out. Just pray. Just talk to God. Just start a conversation. God will take it from there.
This prayer comes in the hours before Jesus’ crucifixion. Jesus has just participated in the Passover meal with his disciples. He’s gone out to a garden in a called Gethsemane. He takes Peter, James and John—his closest friends—and asks them to be with him as he prays. And then, in Mark 14:36, Jesus prays a prayer:
“Abba, Father,
all things are possible for you.
Remove this cup from me.
Yet not what I will, but what you will.”
Here’s one way of looking at the significance of each of these lines:
“Abba, Father” – My relationship with God
“All things are possible for you” – My trust in God
“Remove this cup from me” – My request of God
“Yet not what I will, but what you will” – My surrender to God
These four lines teach us volumes about prayer. Let’s take them one by one.
Let’s start with the phrase, “Abba, Father.” Say that out loud with me: “Abba, Father.” Jesus’ phrase “Abba, Father” calls us to pray remembering our relationship with God. Just to be clear, the word “abba” is not a reference to the 1970’s Swedish pop group. It’s a term of intimacy, a synonym for “Father.” The primary image Jesus had when he prayed to God was of God as Father.
Anne Lamott has recently written a helpful book on prayer. It’s called Help, Thanks, Wow.[2] But she begins the book with a misunderstanding that many of have:
“Nothing could matter less than what we call this force. I know some ironic believers who call God Howard, as in ‘Our Father, who art in Heaven, Howard be thy name.’ I called God Phil for a long time, after a Mexican bracelet maker promised to write “Phil 4: 4– 7” on my bracelet, Philippians 4: 4– 7 being my favorite passage of Scripture, but got only as far as “Phil” before having to dismantle his booth…My friend Robyn calls God ‘the Grandmothers’…Let’s not get bogged down on whom or what we pray to.[3]
Now, at one level, this is a valid point. Sometimes we can get all worried about calling God the right name and never really get on with prayer. However, the image we have of God as we pray is very important. There’s hardly anything that matters more in prayer than the way we think about God in prayer. Nothing matters more than what we call God in prayer. Why? Because what we call God in prayer colors everything else. Prayer is all about relationship. And what I call God says everything about the nature of the relationship between us. The image of God I have will either lead me to pray more or to pray less.
For example, some people were very intimidated by my predecessor Harold Shank. They were scared to talk to him. They saw him as a supremely intelligent and deeply spiritual man way out of their league. He was intelligent and spiritual. But I also knew Harold intimately as a good friend. And thus while some couldn’t even work up the courage to talk to him, I spoke to him all the time. It’s not that Harold was a different person with me than he was with others. Harold was the same person. But it was the image people had of him that made the difference. Same thing is true with prayer. How we think of God will either lead us to talk to him or be scared of talking to him.
This is why Jesus prays this way: “Abba, Father.” It’s a reminder that we need to pray remembering our relationship with God. The God to whom we pray is not just Lord, Creator, or Almighty. He is Abba, Father. These are words of intimacy.
These words not only remind us who God is. They remind us who we are. If the one to whom you pray is Abba, Father, that makes you his child-his son or daughter. You’re not just some puny creation of some unfathomable God. You are his child. He is your father. And recognizing that every time we pray is essential if we want to experience what Jesus experienced in prayer.
And so every time you pray this week, get this image of God in your mind. Use Jesus’ words here if you find them helpful. Remember that the one to whom you are praying is your Father. And this conversation you’re about to have is an intimate one.
Let’s look at the next phrase in Jesus’ prayer: “all things are possible for you.” Say that out loud: “all things are possible for you.” Jesus’ phrase “All things are possible for you” reminds us to pray professing our trust in God. I not only recall my relationship with God as I pray. But I profess my trust in God. Jesus’ models a way of praying in which I profess my conviction that the God to whom I am praying is capable of doing the impossible. All things are possible for this God.
And this line helps us avoid a common pride and a common pain. Sometimes we are driven to pride because we feel like this: “All things are possible for me.” If my marriage is going to make it, it’s up to me. If this church is going to make it, it’s up to me. If my business is going to make it, it’s up to me. There’s a pride that develops in our heart when we buy into the lie of Western culture that says, “All things are possible for me.” And that pride leads us away from prayer. There’s no need to pray if all things are already possible for me.
But there’s another issue, the opposite issue. It’s the issue of pain. Pride comes when we feel we can fix anything. Pain comes when we feel no one can fix anything, when we feel like “Nothing is possible for me, or for God.” When we feel like that child or grandchild is beyond hope. When we feel like a transition we’re enduring will never turn out OK. When we feel like our financial problems will never get fixed. Sometimes we act as if “Nothing is possible for me or for God.”
Now, we would never really put it that way. But some of us act that way. By the emotional response we have to bad news or difficult circumstances, we communicate that we really don’t believe God is capable of dealing with this issue.
But Jesus teaches us to pray with trust. It’s not trust that frees us from our responsibility to participate with God and to use the resources and skills God’s given us. But it is trust that ultimately believes whatever we’re facing, God’s bigger. All things are possible for this God.
And so this week, if you hear bad news or you encounter something difficult, do a gut check. Ask yourself, “Am I going to respond to this as if I believe that all things are possible for God?” And then spend time in prayer, professing you trust to God. Lift up that situation and tell God you trust him to handle it. You’ll find great peace as a result of praying this line: All things are possible for you.
Let’s look at the third phrase in Jesus’ prayer: “Remove this cup from me.” Say that phrase out loud: “Remove this cup from me.” Jesus’ phrase “Remove this cup from me” reminds us to pray presenting our request to God.
This isn’t a polite little request like, “Would you please consider the possibility of perhaps at least thinking about the prospect of maybe removing this cup from me?” This is an unreserved request: Remove this cup from me. Jesus does not mince words in prayer. Jesus does not hold back in prayer. He states his request clearly and boldly.
The cup is the suffering Jesus must endure on the cross in order for us to be reunited with God. And Jesus requests that God come up with some other way for salvation to be granted besides that cup. Jesus requests that God find an alternate route besides the cross.
We might think that a request like this shouldn’t be spoken to God. It’s not right to ask such a thing. Something like this is better left unspoken. But that’s not how Jesus views prayer. For Jesus prayer is the opportunity to talk to God about exactly what’s on his heart. It’s not a time for mincing words or filtering out negative things or hard things. Prayer is a time to present your request before God-no matter how inappropriate that request may seem to others. It’s a time to be honest with God.
Virtually every day for the last 30 days, I had a phone conversation with a Spiritual Director. A Spiritual Director is someone who has been trained to help you listen to God and grow deeper in your relationship with God. She was my “coach” through this time of silence. Once each day we’d talk on the phone. And she almost always started with this question: “How’s your heart?” That’s a good question isn’t it? It’s also a tough question, isn’t it? You can’t answer that question in a superficial way, can you? She was asking that question because she wanted me to be honest about what was going on inside of me. She wanted me to talk to her about what I might really be struggling with. At first, I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to admit my struggles. I wanted her to think I had it all together. But finally I gave in and started being honest with her. That was the point at which she was finally able to help me. The same is true with prayer. It’s only when we are finally and fully honest with God about what we need and what we’re struggling with that God can truly help us.
School’s about to start again. Imagine coming home from the first day back to school, sitting down to dinner, and your Mom or Dad doesn’t ask, “So, how was your day?” You could answer that with one word-“Fine.” But what if your Mom or Dad asked, “So, how is your heart?” Suddenly, the door’s open to a much richer conversation isn’t it? Suddenly you can talk honestly about how you couldn’t remember your lock combination, how that teacher seemed to already not like you, and how anxious you are about going back tomorrow.
That’s the kind of conversation God wants to have with you in prayer. He’s not just interested in surface issues. He wants to know what’s really on your heart. He wants you to be honest with him about your struggles. He wants you to treat him like Abba Father, someone who really does care about what you’re really going through. And, someone who has the power to do something about it.
So, this week as you pray, pray honestly. Don’t hold back. Bring every request before God. Raise every issue with God-especially the tough ones.
Let’s explore the final phrase in Jesus’ prayer: “Yet not what I will, but what you will.” Say that out loud, “Yet not what I will, but what you will.” Jesus’ phrase “Yet not what I will, but what you will” reminds us to pray acknowledging our surrender to God.
Though Jesus unreservedly makes his request of God, he doesn’t say “Amen” right there. There is one more line in his prayer. For Jesus prayer is not a simple shopping list of things he wants from God. Once again, it’s about relationship. Just as the prayer began with words recalling relationship, they end with words recalling relationship. He asks for what he wants. But then he surrenders to the Father’s will: Yet not what I will, but what you will. He lets God know that what matters most to him is God doing what God’s going to do. Even if that means his request gets denied.
And that’s one of the hardest lines to pray, isn’t it? A very good friend of mine was facing a decision recently. I had a strong preference regarding that decision. I wanted him to choose A, not B. And I raised that request honestly with God. I told God what I wanted. But then I also tried to do what Jesus does here. I tried to surrender my friend and his decision to God. Though it was difficult, again and again I said to God, “Here’s what I want. Yet not what I will, but what you will.” And it was only in surrendering that matter fully to God that I finally gained some peace.
One of the ancient prayers I learned over these thirty days was inspired by Jesus’ prayer here. The author believed one of the most transformative things Christians could do was to learn to pray in a way that acknowledged their surrender to God. He wrote this prayer. And he urged Christians to pray this prayer regularly. It’s known by its first word in Latin which means “Take.” I’ve included this prayer on your Link this morning.
Suscipe (Ignatius of Loyola)
Take, Lord, and receive all my liberty,
my memory, my understanding,
and my entire will,
All I have and call my own.
You have given all to me.
To you, Lord, I return it.
Everything is yours; do with it what you will.
Give me only your love and your grace,
that is enough for me.
This week, as you pray, you might pray that prayer every day, or something like it. Tell God what you want. Be honest with him. But then surrender the ultimate outcome to God. Surrender everything to God. You’ll be surprised at the peace that comes your way.
Let’s close as I lead you through this prayer one more time:
Abba, Father – hear us now Father as we silently remember our relationship with you.
All things are possible for you – hear us now Father as we profess our trust in you.
Remove this cup from me – hear us now Father as we present our requests to you.
Yet not what I will, but what you will – hear us now Father as we acknowledge our surrender to you.
[1] Timothy Jones, The Art of Prayer (WaterBrook Press, 2005)
[2] http://www.amazon.com/Help-Thanks-Wow-Essential-Prayers/dp/1594631298/ref=tmm_hrd_title_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1375211102&sr=1-1
[3] Lamott, Anne (2012-11-13). Help, Thanks, Wow: The Three Essential Prayers (30 Minute Spiritual Series) (Kindle Locations 54-62). Penguin Group US. Kindle Edition
