September 14, 2025
Luke 11:1-13
Introduction
“Lord, teach us to pray,” one of the Disciples asked Jesus in today’s Gospel. Do you find that request a bit odd? I wonder why he’s asking this. I wonder what’s behind his request. Why is he asking Jesus to “teach” them—of all people, the people Jesus called to follow him, the Messiah— to pray? I mean, this Disciple certainly has been a person of faith his whole life, raised up in the Jewish tradition which certainly includes prayer. But yet, he makes this request—someone who is literally walking with Jesus every day. And it all makes me wonder if this guy is making this kind of request to Jesus—“Lord, teach us to pray,”— maybe it means we need to make the same request.
We’ll get more into that idea in a little bit, but right now let’s think about why this Disciple is making this request. When you reflect on your own life of prayer what do you imagine this Disciple is really asking? In what ways might he be echoing our desire to know how to pray, and perhaps our struggle to pray?
I wonder if something has happened in this Disciple’s life that has called everything into question, even how to pray—and I mean other than seeing firsthand how the Son of God lives a fully human yet fully divine life. I wonder if maybe the old ways of prayer aren’t working for him anymore. Maybe he has lost the words and doesn’t know what to say or ask for. Maybe he’s distracted and can’t sit still to pray. Maybe his prayers used to come easy but now it’s not only a struggle to pray it’s a struggle to even want to pray—“Well I can’t pray like Jesus, so why bother?” Maybe he used to feel something when he prayed but no longer does. Maybe he’s skinned and bruised his knuckles knocking at the door and it still hasn’t opened. Maybe he’s no longer sure what prayer is or what it even means to pray. Maybe the world around him has gotten so chaotic, so divided, so angry and threatening that he starting to think his prayers couldn’t possibly make any difference.
I don’t know if any of these struggles were on this Disciple’s heart, but I’ve had times in my life when they were all on my heart. Maybe you have too. And when that was the case, it seemed that the intensity of my questions about, and struggle with, prayer often correspond to the intensity and urgency of what was happening in my life and my need to pray—and I could not see what “might be”. Maybe you’ve experienced that too.
Move 1
This past week has been another chaotic week—one of the worst we’ve seen in a while even. It’s been another week of anger, threats, despicable and atrocious violence, finger pointing and blaming, all further dividing our country. This week I’ve prayed, and I’ve struggled with praying in all the same “maybe” ways I just raised. And I don’t have answers to all those “maybes”, and I can’t begin to even address them because to try to do so would just lead to another “maybe”, like “Maybe there’s just no longer a point to praying anymore.”
So instead of trying to explain the “maybes” I want us to do what Jesus says in today’s Gospel, do what he teaches, and pray as he taught us to pray. And we all know how he taught the Disciples to pray—we say a version of it every week.
Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name; thy kingdom come; thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread; and forgive us our debts—our trespasses, our sins—as we forgive those who trespass—or, our debtors, or those who have sinned— against us; and lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever. Amen.”
This is a great prayer of course, but do we really understand it? Do our other prayers sound like the Lord’s Prayer?
Now countless pastors and theologians have crafted alternative versions of the Lord’s Prayer—not to improve upon it, but rather it make it more relatable and understandable. I’ve read some of them—even tried my hand at it once or twice. But there was one in particular that spoke to my spirit. It’s written by longtime seminary professor and author, Dr. Ruth Duck, who prays saying…
Our Father in heaven, regardless of what has and has not happened, through our words and actions we bless, we hallow, we make holy your name before others. We claim your ways, concerns, and desires as our own. Each day give us bread for the day to nourish and strengthen us in body and soul for whatever lies ahead. Free us from the past and forgive us our sins, and in the same way and to the same extent guide us to forgive others. Save us from the temptation of turning away from ourselves, from one another, and from you. To all this, for the glory of you our Creator, we say yes, yes, yes. Amen.
What do you think? Where did that prayer take you? When Jesus teaches us to pray he teaches us that it’s not about asking God to give particular responses or provide results in specific circumstances. Jesus teaches us how to pray bigger than that. The way Jesus prays is about the future, and our responsibility to work towards that future.
Now it doesn’t mean we determine or control the future. It means we don’t give up when the sands of life are shifting under our feet. We don’t give up when our life comes unhinged. We don’t give up when we are overwhelmed. We don’t give up when we come to the limits of our ability. We don’t give up when it looks like this day is as good as it gets or all there will ever be.
The promise of a future runs all through today’s Gospel: “He will get up and give him whatever he needs…” “It will be given you…” “You will find…” “The door will be opened.” This is Jesus’ promise to us. No, it’s not a promise that we will always get whatever we ask for. It’s a promise where again and again Jesus speaks of a good and blessed future that will come. It is a promise of a good and blessed future that will come to us.
Move 2
In his book, “Hoping Against Hope”, postmodern philosopher John Caputo addresses what he believes is happening in the Lord’s Prayer, saying, “The prayer Jesus taught keeps the present from closing in upon itself and from closing in all around us. It opens the present moment to the possibility of something new, the chance of something different, something that will transform the present into something else”
I want to read you that last line again—because if you take nothing else from this message, I want it to be this… “It opens the present moment to the possibility of something new, the chance of something different, something that will transform the present into something else”
Prayer does not guarantee an outcome. Prayer does not undo the past. Prayer does not offer an escape from life or the circumstances of our lives. What prayer does is keep us open to the future. And the future is always better—not because it necessarily will be, but because it might be. That possibility, the “might be” of the future, is our daily bread. The “might be” is why we forgive. The “might be” is why we refuse to turn away. Jesus is teaching that the “might be” of the future is what needs to be at the heart of every prayer.
Move 3
Where there is a future, whether it is an hour, a day, a month, or twenty years, there is the possibility—there is the “might be”— of life and more life. That’s what Jesus is promising in today’s Gospel. And it’s exactly what you and I need. I need the possibility of life and more life for this church, for this community, for our country, for the world, for you and me—because without it, I probably wouldn’t get out of bed in the morning. What would be the point?
Jesus is not teaching a technique of prayer or a magic formula of words. He’s teaching prayer as a posture, a way of standing before God, exposed and responsive to a holy and life-giving Spirit.
And yes, this kind of prayer is a risky and vulnerable place to stand because it asks a lot of us. It asks you and I to take a role in bringing about the future—in bringing about what “might be”. It means we have work to do. It means despite the chaos, the division, the anger and threats we cling to the hope of what “might be”, and we pray and work and speak of what “might be” and just how it might become a reality.
Conclusion
Some mornings the “might be” Jesus teaches us to pray for, and about, might be the only reason we have the will to get out of bed—because the day might be different, it might be better, there might be something new.
The prayer Jesus taught asks us to offer ourselves as the place and means for the breaking-in of the future, for change, for life and more life. The prayer Jesus taught asks us to believe what “might be” can not only become a reality, but that it might just become a reality, today, or tomorrow, or the day after. The prayer Jesus taught asks us to believe in this prayer, pray this prayer, and work for this prayer every day.
So I wonder… What would it look like for you to pray like this—praying for a future that is good? What would praying like this ask of you? And what would living out what it asks of you look like?
Consider those questions, and then… Imagine standing before God and praying, “Here I am, Lord. I am a place where the future can enter. I am an instrument of your what “might be.” I am filled with the hope of all that might be.” Is that a prayer you can pray? What would it take to live that prayer?
I hope and pray it’s a prayer all of us can pray and live. Because if we can’t pray like this, and live like this, then I shudder to think what the world “might be” without our prayers. Amen.
Pastoral Prayer, September 14, 2025
God of eternity, we come before you with hearts full of gratitude and a sense of wonder at your great love for us. We thank you that you are not only the God of our past and present, but also of a future—a future you fill with hope, a future we cannot fully see, but in which we place our unshakable trust.
We confess that in a world of chaos, division, violence, suffering, and brokenness, our minds can be consumed by fear and doubt. At times, the erosion of injustice, the multiplying of suffering, and the immensity of brokenness feels overwhelming.
Remind us, Lord, that the resurrection of Jesus Christ is the firm foundation of our living hope, assuring us that sin and death never get to have the last word.
Fix our eyes on the unseen eternal glory you have promised, reminding us that our present sufferings are momentary in comparison.
Through your Holy Spirit, fill us with joy and peace, so our hope may overflow and become a witness of what might be.
Call us to be participants in your blessed future, joining in the mission of Christ on earth as we wait for his glorious return.
Give us eyes to see the lonely, the vulnerable, and the marginalized, and hands to serve them as if we were serving Christ himself.
Inspire us to be ambassadors of reconciliation, sharing the Good News of your love and preparing a place for others in your kingdom.
Unite us with other believers in a steadfast fellowship, that we may encourage one another and abound in good works that bring forth hope for better days.
And may your will be done on earth as it is in heaven by giving us courage, purpose, and the strength needed to see all that might become when we live the life of those who pray as Jesus taught.
We humbly ask for you to listen now to the prayers of our hearts, shared in this time of Holy Silence.
We offer this prayer in the matchless name of Jesus, our hope and our future, who taught us to pray, saying, “Our..”