Storming Heaven

In one of his more reflective moments, Huckleberry Finn reports,

“Miss Watson she took me in the closet and prayed, but nothing come of it. She told me to pray every day, and whatever I asked for I would get it. But it warn’t so. I tried it. Once I got a fishline, but no hooks. It warn’t any good to me without hooks. I tried for the hooks three or four times, but somehow I couldn’t make it work.

By and by, one day, I asked Miss Watson to try for me, but she said I was a fool. She never told me why, and I couldn’t make it out no way. I set down one time back in the woods, and had a long think about it. I says to myself, if a body can get anything they pray for, why don’t Deacon Winn get back the money he lost on pork? Why can’t the widow get back her silver snuffbox that was stole? Why can’t Miss Watson fat up? No, says I to myself, there ain’t nothing in it.”

Huck, it seems, was largely unconvinced by the notion of Jesus that “If you ask anything in my name I will do it” (John 14:14), or “If you dwell in me and my words in you, ask what you will and you will have it” (John 15:7), or the words in this morning’s text, “everyone who asks receives, and everyone who searches finds, and for everyone who knocks, the door will be opened.”

“No,” Huck says to himself, “there ain’t nothing in it.”

But it sure is popular.

More frequently than any other gospel writer, Luke portrays Jesus at prayer. And it’s not only Jesus. Zechariah, Anna, Peter, Paul, Cornelius, and the whole church pray regularly and fervently as reported in Acts, Luke’s other book.

But stepping back and gathering a larger view, the Bible as a whole continually “pushes” prayer. A lot of “how-to’s” are given, such as “In private”, “without lofty phrases”, “spontaneously as children”, “fervently as saints.” But quite often, even with all this help, we, like the disciples in the story, stand frustrated watching from the sidelines saying, “teach us to pray.”

We have to admit at the outset that many of our petitions are not answered. We could, and perhaps should define “answer” in broad enough terms to be able to say all prayer is answered, but if we mean, as most of us do, “answered according to the hopes and terms of the asking” (Buttrick, 79-80), most go unanswered. Just ask Huckleberry Finn. And while most of us haven’t prayed for fish hooks in quite a long while, we have prayed for healing for those who continued to suffer and deteriorate; prayed for courage, still to find a lump in our throat; prayed for a safe journey, still to have an accident; prayed for a happy marriage, still to be divorced. And you know, as I do, that it has nothing to do with the intensity or sincerity of the appeal.

And yet, even while we list those frustrations, we know of those healed; safe journeys, marriages full of joy, and bold courage -- all attributed to prayer. “Lord, teach us to pray!”

Notice the context of the question: “Teach us to pray as John taught his disciples.” The context is comparison – we look around and see so many doing it so well. Others seem to have such a good handle on prayer; they get what they want; they do it enthusiastically, and they urge others to do it as well.

And yet… While we often enjoy a good and meaningful period of devotion, when prayer flows as naturally as a stream down a mountain path; and while prayer seems like the most important act at the side of a sick bed or on the doormat of a major life decision, there are those times of doubt and frustration when, in the words of one beloved woman, “I wonder if they ever get passed the ceiling.”

Jesus -- very briefly according to Luke -- offers an example of a prayer, then moves directly on to something perhaps even more central than the content or the mechanics; at least it is more basic: what’s the use? Why should you pray? Why is prayer not simply an exercise in psychological catharsis or cosmic shopping?

“Suppose one of you has a friend…” he begins, and you smell a story in the air.

“Suppose one of you has a friend who comes to him in the middle of the night and says, ‘my friend, lend me three loaves, for a friend of mine on a journey has turned up at my house, and I have nothing to offer him’; and he replies from inside, ‘Do not bother me. The door is shut for the night; my children and I have gone to bed; and I cannot get up and give you what you want.’”

“I tell you that even if he will not provide for him out of friendship,” Jesus continues, “the very shamelessness of the request will make him get up and give him all he needs.”

What is this “shamelessness” that appears to be so pivotal? It has been translated a variety of ways: importunity, persistence, insistence. But shamelessness comes closest to the idea – which is to say “a lack of concern for how it makes you look”. The feeling is not so much persistence – tenacity – as it is single-mindedness that finds everything else – including good manners -- irrelevant. Even if the sleeping neighbor will not get up out of friendship, he will get up, simply to get the guy off his back. It’s like the phone that rings and rings in the dead of night. You finally answer it, not because the ring has convinced you it is important, but because you can no longer tolerate the disturbance. You get up to relieve the irritation.

“And so,” Jesus continues, “Ask, and you will receive; seek, and you will find; knock and the door will be opened.” If persistence achieves results from a neighbor in a bad mood, how much more can one expect to receive responsiveness from a perfect parent.

“If you, then, bad as you are, know how to give your children what is good for them,” Jesus concludes the final story of the text,” how much more will God give the Holy Spirit to those who ask!”

It’s interesting to me that what is received, according to Luke’s version, is not fish hooks, return of stolen snuff boxes, or lost money; not even healing or courage or insight, but rather “the Holy Spirit”. It has been said that the Holy Spirit is the one gift that God cannot give without being asked. A father can give his children things whether they ask for them or not, but he cannot give himself – his love – except to those who want to receive it.

I don’t know. The passage says little about how God fills requests or about what to do when prayers go unanswered. We’ll have to go elsewhere for that. This story simply invites us to do it, storming heaven as it were, shamelessly, and with confidence that God will hear, listen, and respond.

Once upon a time, heavy rain turned a placid stream into a raging torrent. Factories were flooded, and homes were swept off their foundations. Storefronts were shattered, and apartment buildings were reduced to kindling. A school and social hall floated away, never to be seen again. Even the small, white church on the east bank of the river was not spared. Ice, trees, and other debris pounded it for three days. The members responded by working long hours to fill enough sandbags to protect their meetinghouse.

The cold was raw and biting. There seemed to be no end to the icy water. At one point the water came toward the church with such force that part of the dike was washed away. All of the workers except one dropped their shovels and ran to high ground. The laborer who stayed behind knew that all would be lost if the dike was not rebuilt. He climbed to the top of the barricade, reached into the rushing water, and grasped the roots of a huge tree. He took out his pocketknife, cut two roots from the tree, and tied them together in the shape of a cross. His act of faith rallied the workers, and the roots became a symbol of hope.

The laborer hung the cross on the wall of the church above the place where he and his neighbors toiled. The area beneath the cross became a place of prayer. Men and women joined hands and prayed for God to help them renew their strength. They also asked God to help them grow in faith and love for each other as a result of facing this trial together.

The church members continued to battle the flood for the next two days, and the meetinghouse was saved. And yet, at least for the one who reported the story, that victory was incidental in comparison to what happened to the people. They learned to serve each other and care for one another. They also learned what it is like to walk into the midst of tragedy and suffering with God at one’s side.

So, what happened there? Exactly what, as a result of those prayers – all that “storming of heaven” – did God do, in that flood or in ours? I don’t really know – except to observe that, by all counts, the Holy Spirit was there, present, just as Jesus had promised.

Way better than fishhooks! So, shamelessly, and confidently, with open and receptive hearts, we pray.