Prayer and Politics

At the risk of alienating several family members and friends, I feel I need to make the following statement:  The United States of America is not, has never been, and will never be a “Christian Nation.”  I am not saying this in disparagement of my homeland– I’m not suggesting it is an irreligious nation.  But I think the term “Christian Nation” gets used presumptiously to suggest that America is uniquely righteous, or immune from criticism or judgment.  America is not a theocracy, and it is not a bastion of Christian virtue.  We are a nation “under God”, but not a nation that recognizes God as its supreme ruler.  Our government, while based on principles handed down through centuries of Judeo-Christian practice, is built around documents written by and for the people of this nation, independent of their adherence to that practice or to those doctrines.  1st Amendment and Religion

Our government does not sponsor Christian churches, nor does it require its citizens to belong to a particular religion or religious group in order to enjoy its rights, freedoms, and protections.  We do not have federal laws that punish those who believe other tenets or practice other faiths that do not fall under the Judeo-Christian umbrella.  Our courts may limit the practice of religion (including Christianity) when it conflicts with a “compelling”  governmental interest, such as public safety.  And our citizens who are practicing Christians are not united in how they apply Christianity to politics, and vice-versa.  Our members of Congress are not elected based on their adherence to a religious practice, and our leaders are not required to be clergy (the very thought is pretty laughable to most of us in today’s political climate!).  America is designed to be a nation that practices one of the most basic tenets of the Bible–that humans have the gift of Free Will, and the right to use it.

Having said all that, I also want to be clear that the Judeo-Christian tradition has played and (for now) continues to play an enormous role in our laws, societal construct, and civilization.  I’m not here to ignore that or dismiss it as unimportant.  My goal is to point out that prayer and politics should not be conflated or equated–prayer is not and never has been the equal of political thought or action–prayer is always superior!

As Christians, not only in America, but anywhere in the world, we are called upon to live worthy of Christ and his Gospel.  That doesn’t mean burying our heads in the sand or staying silent in the face of evil and injustice– we should be engaged in our communities, and in our civic responsibilities.  But it also doesn’t mean that we protest, promote, plot, and proceed politically in our own power or wisdom.  We are commanded to pray for those in leadership and authority– those we voted for and those we didn’t!  We are commanded to submit to those same authority figures, to show them honor and respect, even if we are opposed to their policies and seeking to reverse those policies.  We are commanded to live (as much as it depends on us) in peace with our neighbors, to love our enemies, and bless those who curse us.   Our patriotism and our political expression must be in line with, and submit to, our commitment to follow Christ.  To show contempt or hatred for our nation and its leaders is to show contempt for the God who is sovereign over them.  But that same God will not excuse us for turning a blind eye to sin and corruption, or worse yet, covering it up or calling it righteousness.  Our prayers, both personal and political, need to be based in truth and love.

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Even as we live in tumultuous times, we are commanded to pray.  In relation to our nation and our society, I think there are at least four important things to keep in mind:

  • Our real citizenship is in Heaven.  Praying for our nation, its leaders, its laws, etc., is in line with Scripture; worshiping our nation, its leaders, its laws, etc., is idolatry.
  • Our neighbors, our nation, our world– they won’t change because we enact a new law, win an election, change the economy, or wipe out war.  People, nations, and societies will change because they have had an encounter with Jesus Christ, and they have been transformed by his Grace.  Are they seeing HIM in our actions, our Facebook and Twitter feeds, our interactions on the street; are they hearing HIM in our conversations; are they overwhelmed by HIS grace when they meet us?  Pray that God will help us be faithful in the small things.  Our actions speak louder than our words– and that includes the words of our prayers!
  • God’s ways are not our ways–we need to be careful that we are not praying for (and demanding, and offering on our part) a quick compromise, a superficial spirituality, and a cheap grace that substitutes for a deep and lasting revival.  Don’t ask God to “fix” the world and then wonder why he sends the repairman to your door, or recruits you to scrub toilets!
  • We are in a battle, but it is not with people and it is not going to be won by playing politics–we must learn to identify the real enemy, so we can put on the correct armor and reach for the right weapons.  Our shield is not the flag– it is Faith.  Our sword is not a clever argument– it is the simple truth of the Gospel.  Victory has already been declared.  Remember to rejoice when we pray for our nation and our world– the Lamb has Overcome!

Prayer connects us to the power of the King of Kings and Lord of Lords, whose banner over us is Love.

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Prayer and Pizza

Have you ever looked at a pizza and thought– “Wow, this reminds me of prayer?!”  Me neither. But God works in mysterious, and sometimes mischievous, ways to teach us great lessons.  God is an awesome teacher, and he often uses parables, object lessons, and analogies to illuminate his truth and make it memorable and comprehensible.  God tends to use a lot of food-related analogies (bread and wine, fish, mustard seeds, vineyards and grapes, fatted calves, bitter herbs, yeast, and salt…), likely because he knows that the way to our hearts and minds is often through our taste buds!

So yesterday, as I was thinking about prayer (and listening to my stomach rumble a bit), I sat down to write, and I was suddenly thinking about how prayer is kind of like a pizza– a wonderful, freshly made pizza.  The same ingredients that make a great pizza should help us build a great prayer life.

Every good pizza starts with dough.  Every good prayer starts by recognizing our “knead” to rest on God’s grace, his promises, his timing, his strength, and his love.  Whether your dough yields a traditional yeast and flour crust, a matzoh wafer, a cauliflower thin crust, a deep dish corn meal extravaganza, a flaky biscuit-dough crust, or even a culinary experiment, it provides a base for all the other ingredients.  I could get side-tracked into an entire blog just about the crust analogies (three-ingredient, yeastless crust: Holy Trinity?  self-rising crust: resurrection? round crust: eternity?  pray without ceasing?  crusts that are tossed, pressed, rolled out, or put on the rack?), but I’ll let that sit there and go on to the toppings.

One of the wonderful things about pizza is the endless combination of toppings.  Prayer can be just as unique as the person and occasion involved.  Some prayers are simple two- or three-ingredient prayers.  Some are piled on with praise or loaded with concerns.  Some prayers include ingredients that are sweet, or bitter, or crushed, or salty.  Some prayers are meaty, some are fruity, some are cheesy, and some are saucy.

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But ah…the aroma!  And the final product!  Something miraculous happens when simple (or complex) ingredients combine on the crust and come through the heat.  God takes our worries, our praises, our confessions, our remembrances, our groaning, and our rejoicing, and turns them into something supernatural and mysterious.  He compares our prayers to an aroma (like incense, not precisely pizza, but..) rising to Heaven.  Tangy, pungent, comforting, or mouth-watering, our prayers become satisfying, nourishing, powerful, and enticing, beyond what our mere words could ever produce.

The next time you make a pizza (or order one)–thank God for his gift of the food you eat– but remember to thank him for the miracle of prayer as well.

Buon Appetito!

Prayers in the Pendulum

I’m late in posting an entry today– it’s been a day of swinging in the pendulum.  Not in a personal sense, but in praying for friends and family.

We all have “pendulum” days (or weeks, or even hours)– times where we are carried, pushed, swung, or banged about by life’s circumstances.  Moments where time stands still– sometimes in astonishing joy, and sometimes in soul–stomping grief.  Then comes the rush of being pulled by forces beyond our control– up, and down, across, and through the arc.  I’ve been hearing from friends all day, sharing those moments, and asking for prayer.  In the space of an hour, I’ve prayed for those who have just lost loved ones– a mother, a sister, a son– and those who are celebrating– an engagement, a birthday, a new home.  I’ve prayed for those whose lives are in the balance– in ICUs and in the womb.  Cancer, anniversaries, new puppies, pneumonia, a new job, a vacation, a car accident…

When we pray for others, we share those joys and heartaches– together, we swing through the arc of tragedy and triumph, even if we don’t all feel the full impact.  We become like the balls on the pendulum swing; absorbing and sharing laughter and tears not fully our own. But by doing so, we provide both energy and equilibrium.  Shared joys are multiplied; shared pain becomes bearable.  Prayer breaks through the isolation or the intensity of the moment, and keeps us grounded, or keeps us from shattering.   It reminds us that even in these defining and refining moments, life is not static.  And the momentum pulses through us in our connectedness.

Yet prayer goes one step further– it brings triumph and tragedy to the God who is above, beyond, around, and amidst the circumstances, the chaos, and the emotional highs and lows.  Our voices, raised together in laughter or grief, exasperation or anticipation, ascend to the one who came and lived and laughed and cried among us– to Jesus, whose arms are fully extended to embrace us wherever we are on the pendulum.

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Praying for Peace

A few years ago, I was introduced to a man from South Sudan, who had come to the U.S. for a missions conference.  Earlier in the evening, he had shared a report on conditions in his region– all the horrible details you dread hearing–displaced families, homeless refugees, orphaned children, shortages of food, clothing, shelter, blankets, and medicine, constant fear of being attacked by one side or another in the ongoing conflict.  Throughout his report, he emphasized the sovereignty of God, and his hope that he and his team could continue to help those most in need.  As I got a chance to speak directly to “Robert” *, I told him that I would pray for peace to come to his region.  I was shocked when he stopped me.  “Please don’t pray for peace,” he told me.  “Pray instead that God would give us the resources and the strength to be faithful and to keep helping.”

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Then he explained.  It wasn’t that he didn’t want peace to come, but he wanted me to pray for whatever God willed for his region.  The Kingdom of God, not earthly peace, was his highest priority and his greatest urgency.  Because of the circumstances of war, people were desperate.  Their world had been turned upside-down, and they were in great need.  But war had also opened up opportunities– not only opportunities to help those in need, but opportunities to show the Love of Christ as it had never been known to the people there.  The people who were coming to refugee camps were meeting, sometimes for the very first time, people from other villages, other cultures, and other faiths– people they had considered enemies.  Suddenly, they were seeing these enemies as fellow sufferers, fellow human beings with the same injuries and losses, needs and longings as themselves.  They were also “seeing through” some of the lies they had believed about “the others” in their midst.  Their circumstances were desperate, but their biggest need was for hope and help.  Help was coming from around the world– United Nations’ agencies, The Red Cross, Doctors Without Borders, and several Christian relief and medical organizations.  These groups had been kept out during peacetime and even in the early stages of fighting.  Not only were they able to help with immediate relief; they were able to provide medical care for victims of AIDS, and childhood diseases, care that had long been denied.  Along with practical help, though, these groups were providing hope– hope to rebuild, hope in the midst of despair and chaos, hope of eternal life and a relationship with God.

“Robert” was not saying that he didn’t long for peace, or that peace would be a bad thing for the people of South Sudan.  Of course not.  But the greatest need was not for an immediate end to fighting– it was for the kind of peace that only God can bring.  As far as I know “Robert” is still working with refugees and displaced families in South Sudan.  The work is difficult and often heartbreaking.  Resources are stretched, and chaos still haunts the land.  But progress is coming– slowly, but surely.  Lives are being changed, reclaimed, and renewed.   And I pray that he and his team are being strengthened and encouraged even as their circumstances continue to be desperate.

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I share this story because I am still learning that Prayer isn’t about what I want or think is best; it isn’t about getting my way, or asking for the easy “fix” or the happy ending.  It’s about seeking God’s will, His way, His answer, His timing, and His grace.  Suffering, whether we are experiencing it or hearing about it, reminds us that we live in a fallen and dying world.  We long for peace.  We long for healing.   We long for rest and comfort and happiness.  But in this world, there will be trouble and injustice, death and disease, pain, suffering, betrayal, and unanswered questions.  We don’t understand God’s timing, his plan in allowing innocent people to suffer the cruelties of war or poverty.  And if we are living in peace and comfort, it makes us feel guilty and even fearful– why them and not us?  When might we face unexpected hardship?  So we ask God to remove all the discomforts, the struggles, the pain.  It is not wrong to want healing and peace and all the other good things– we should seek justice and mercy and peace and joy.  But we also need to recognize that God may choose to bless us in unexpected ways through our hardships and agonies.  And he may be calling some of us to take action– to be His hands and feet– to reach out with the resources he has given us to help others.  He doesn’t love those others less; he doesn’t love us more– he loves to see us love each other in His name!

God’s ways are not my ways; his timing isn’t the same as mine– it is better.  It is perfect. In the end, there will be peace in South Sudan.  There will be Peace on Earth. There will be healing and justice, and peace and joy.  There will be answers for all the questions, and happy endings.   But in the meantime, may God give all of us the strength and resources to help those in need, the faith and discipline to keep going in the midst of chaos, and the wisdom to make peace and spread love wherever and whenever we can.

 

*Because “Robert” is a Christian worker in an area of intense persecution, his true identity is being protected.  Please pray for all those who are risking their lives and livelihoods to live, work, and worship as Christians throughout the world.  And be thankful if you live in an area where you risk little or nothing to proclaim the name of Jesus Christ.

Presumptuous Prayer

The Christian life is often one of paradox–We are “in” the world, but not “of” the world; we “die to the flesh”, even as we continue to breathe and walk and eat in our fleshly bodies.  Prayer is part of that paradox– we dare to present ourselves before the throne of Almighty God, yet we are told to call him “Our Father”, and to come boldly.  We call on one who is unseen, unknowable, and sovereign, and we’re told to ask for anything in Jesus’ name, and it will be done.

This can lead to problems, as we try to resolve the paradox– sometimes we dare too much; other times, we ask too little.  I want to take a peek at how this works, especially as I have a problem with the latter.

Why do I feel it is a presumption to ask God for help?  Why do I ask God to do the least that I might expect from Him, when He offers miracles for the asking?  Why do I wait to bring my requests to God, hoping that I can solve them myself and not “bother” him?  Do I not trust him?  Do I not trust him enough?  Why do I get discouraged when my prayers are not answered “my way?”  Immediately!  When hardship comes, why do I assume that it is an accident–a miscarriage of justice–and call out to God as though he is unaware of my dilemma?

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I think we come to prayer with a few faulty assumptions about God:

  • we believe that God doesn’t know– that he is unaware of our needs or our circumstances, , our sense of urgency, or the depth of our despair; that he will be embarrassed by our lack of obedience or the simplicity of our request
  • we believe that God doesn’t care– we fear that God will be distant, disapproving, or even disdainful; unwilling to help us until we “clean up our act.”  Or we believe that he delights in testing us, watching us struggle, withholding help until we are properly humbled and abject in our obedience.  Perhaps we believe that “God helps those who help themselves,” and therefore, he is waiting for us to work ourselves to the limit before we bother him with our troubles.  We believe that “if God really cared” he would give us what we want, when we want it, and how we want it
  • we believe that God is unable– that we have messed up so badly, even God can’t fix our mistakes; that what we are asking is stretching God to do what is beyond his plan or purpose; that our request is too broad in its scope for God to attend to it
  • we believe that God isn’t really GOD–we have doubts about his existence, his reality, his presence, and his power over all our circumstances

We also come with assumptions about ourselves:

  • we believe that we are unworthy of God’s love, care, time, power, concern, or attention
  • we believe that we are worthy–worthy of special treatment and privileges denied to others because of who we are or what we’ve done; worthy of a life devoid of pain, stress, hardship, or struggle
  • we believe that we know better than God how to meet our needs; we believe that we have all the answers, and God’s job is to do our bidding
  • we believe that coming to God in prayer is a sign of weakness, laziness, or neediness that brands us as “less” than others who live life on “their terms”
  • we believe that our wants and needs are not important; that our dreams and desires must be squashed in order to serve God

If we assume any (or all) of these things, our prayers will swing wildly from wimpy hand-wringing and grudging worship to impatient demands and selfish complaints.

God knows– he sees everything; he knows your very thoughts before you think them!  God cares– he loves each of us with an eternal, limitless love– a perfect love that casts out fear and bids us to draw near to him, but doesn’t spoil us, indulge our selfishness, or set us up for failure.
God is able–just because we don’t see the answer we want in our current situation doesn’t mean that answer isn’t on its way.  Look back at the ways God has been faithful in the past–Can’t He Do It!

We are unworthy–in our own power–but we are also cherished by God, who makes us worthy through faith in the finished work of Jesus Christ.  Our privilege of coming to and communing with Almighty God is not a presumption in itself– it is a gift given by him in the moment that the veil was torn from top to bottom in the temple– the very moment Christ fulfilled the law, the barriers were removed, and God made it possible to come into his very presence.
We know only in part, and we see only in part– God sees the whole; the end from the beginning.  He knows what is best, not only for us, but for all of creation.
When we come to God, it is a sign of submission– not weakness.  It is a sign that we recognize God’s right to be God, and our privilege to live and work and commune with him, instead of acting and living in rebellion against him.
Because he knows our every thought, and he loves us completely, he cares about our every need.  When we trust in him– in his goodness, his faithfulness, his timing, and his sovereignty, he doesn’t promise us a life without hardship; but he does promise peace that passes all understanding as we go through those hardships.

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In the end, our faulty assumptions come from making ourselves too big– taking pride in our own worthiness, strength, and intelligence; or exaggerating our faults, mistakes, and unmet expectations– and making God too small to meet our needs or understand our hearts.

God wants us to presume on his Goodness and Might– not on our own wisdom and worthiness.

 

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