Concerning Life as It Is Supposed to Be

Category: Books Page 6 of 19

Prayer: the Price of a Miracle

[This is a post in our ongoing series looking at the themes raised by David Crump in his book Knocking on Heaven’s Door: A New Testament Theology of Petitionary Prayer. We began this series here.]

Years ago, I heard a man speak whose church had grown phenomenally. He attributed this growth to his commitment to spending hours daily in prayer, a commitment in which his church had joined him. A correlation was drawn between the number and persistence of people praying and the success of the church’s ministry. I was moved by the man’s faithfulness. I was challenged by his model. But I was never able to duplicate his devotion or his success. I am left to wonder: if I’d prayed one more day or had one more person join me, would we have tipped the scale in our favor?

What, that is, is the price of a miracle? Or is that even a proper question?

Some have read Jesus’ parables in the gospel of Luke (chapters 11 and 18) to suggest that prayer not only requires a special quantity of faith but as well particular investments of time, repetition, and emotional fervor. And such quantification seems to put a price tag on the miracles we seek. Is it really true that what God will not do if only ten are praying he will do if there are eleven or twenty? To have many praying, and praying long and hard is a good thing. But the line between doing what is good and attempting to manipulate God can be invisible to us if we are not careful. Crump unpacks these parables and in so doing helps us see our way beyond this creeping mechanistic view of prayer.

The point of the parables of the friend to who seeks bread from his neighbor at midnight (Luke 11) and the widow before the judge (Luke 18) is not that we can with our persistence irritate God into action. Rather, the point is that we should come to God at any time and with whatever need without shame and without hesitation.

We are to let nothing prevent our bringing our petitions to God. We will be persistent and we will pray without ceasing because we care about the matter at hand. But we do so not to pay a certain ‘price’ for a miracle. Our Father is always and ever willing to hear and to give what we most need.

The encouragement of these passages is to pray. We are encouraged to pray not so as to up the ante against God so that he must respond, but to pray knowing that he loves to give good gifts to his children, even when all we can see is darkness. Faithfulness in prayer is what is encouraged, and faithfulness is always more precious than a mechanistic persistence. The child who asks and asks and asks her father for a snake will not get it. But the child still asks, and the child will get what she most needs. But she asks not to up the pressure on one who will not give, but she asks simply because he is her father.

“The point is this: will I continue to bring my life before God in prayer when all tangible, empirical—and even all personal, experiential—evidence demands that I abandon prayer as worthless?” (page 88)

I want my answer to be, “Yes.”

Click to go to the next post in this series.

I’ll Read This One, by Dickens!

I was puzzling yesterday over what book to read next. I had just finished reading a collection of essays on living and dying called The Undertaking, and had read two more stories in The Complete Stories of Flannery O’Connor and wanted something a little less heavy. Rushing out the door to an appointment that might leave me waiting I wanted to take a book with me but which one? The decision could not be nursed; immediacy was required.

Several months ago, sitting with two Dombey Wrapper Web1friends, both retired professors of literature and therefore assumed to have some insight into these things, the conversation turned to Dickens. This sounds like a stuffy conversation, I suppose, but it wasn’t. My wife had said how much she disliked Bleak House, that she only got a ways into it before she had to stop. She was relieved to find out that both of our friends found that book to be, well, ‘bleak’ as well. So we asked them for their favorite Dickens, and they agreed on (if my memory is correct) Dombey and Son. Yeah, I don’t think I’d ever heard of it either. But that’s why people get PhDs in literature, to discover things like this.

So I bought it. When it was delivered, of course, I wondered if they’d had to ship it by freight, on a pallet, with a forklift. Its 948 page heft would make even Stephen King envious. My wife asked me if I was going to dedicate the entire next year to reading it (she has noticed my tendency to fall asleep at night reading). I wondered. In college I started a class on Dickens which I dropped when I realized that we had to read one Dickens book each week. That was not going to happen.

So, there I stood, debating between starting this monster (I’d paid for it after all) or waiting to find the next P. D. James Adam Dalgleish mystery at the local used book store. In the waning moments before I left, I decided to read the first few sentences.

“Dombey sat in the corner of the darkened room in the great arm-chair by the bedside, and Son lay tucked up warm in a little basket bedstead, carefully disposed on a low settee immediately in front of the fire and close to it, as if his constitution were analogous to that of a muffin, and it was essential to toast him brown while he was very new.

“Dombey was about eight-and-forty years of age. Son about eight-and-forty minutes.”

I decided then that Dickens and I could be quite good friends. For the next year, if need be.

Prayer: When Jesus Lies (?)

[This is a post in our ongoing series looking at the themes raised by David Crump in his book Knocking on Heaven’s Door: A New Testament Theology of Petitionary Prayer. We began this series here.]

When do we eventually entertain the idea that Jesus has lied to us? Few would confess to having this thought, but many face it.

We read in the Bible that Jesus said, “Truly, I say to you, whoever says to this mountain, ‘Be taken up and thrown into the sea,’ and does not doubt in his heart, but believes that what he says will come to pass, it will be done for him.” (Mark 11:23) And so we pray, with earnestness and fervor and persistence and faith. And the “mountain” remains.

When we ask, “Why?” some will tell us that we don’t have enough faith. Others will tell us that we’ve not prayed long enough. Still others will urge us to gather a team to pray. But at some point when our guard is down the thought will flit across our minds, “What if it is in fact not true?”

We may not exactly accuse Jesus of lying, but we will judge the text to not be true, which effects the same thing. And left unchecked, the thought will find a place to roost, and grow, and soon we will stop praying. Or worse.

But the problem is this: what other conclusions can we draw? Jesus says one thing and our experience reveals another. The fault is either in us not praying right or in the promise being faulty. What is it?

Gently, Crump points us in a third direction – that we have misunderstood the nature of the promise. He takes us back to the texts in which the apparent links between faith and prayer and the work of God are drawn and helps us see them in fresh ways, hopefully in the way that Jesus meant them to be understood.

Crump walks us through the texts to see if it is in fact possible for Christians to cause mountains to ‘do backflips’ into the Mediterranean as easily as Jesus caused the fig tree to wither. Crump helps us to see that Jesus’ point was not that a physical mountain would move, but that the personal God would act. The common believer has access through prayer to the full power of God. There are no limits.

“Anyone who places arbitrary, naturalistic limits on what a disciple can reasonably expect of God in this world should stop to consider whether that person’s God is the same deity that Jesus turned to when he said to the fig tree, ‘May no one ever eat fruit from you again’ (Mark 11:14).” (page 33)

The point is that we ought to expect that our prayers do connect us to all the power of God, no matter how weak our faith. But that does not seem to be helpful. Why do the mountains not move when I tell them to? The answer is, “God.” Regardless of what we ask, it is his decision to act in all the wisdom that is his.

No where in the Bible does ‘greater faith’ receive greater answers and ‘lesser faith’ lesser. Scripture invites every believer, no matter how weak his faith, to believe in the absolute power of God. There is no guarantee “expressed or implied”. There is a future sense in the promises of the Bible and, as hard as it is to accept, sometimes the answers to our prayers await the coming of the kingdom in its fulness.

The challenge here is to avoid the cynicism that says God cannot or will not ever bring the impact of that kingdom to bear upon the present. We are encouraged to ask things of God, believing that he, as God, can do what we ask. But God is not bound by what we ask. Greater faith or (as we will see) greater persistence does not obligate God.

“The Gospel writers carefully insist that faith itself is not the cause of miracles. God is.” (page 45)

That is the point we need to hear. Faith does not change things, and prayer does not change things, but God does. Prayer is taking what little faith we have and what little we know of prayer and asking the God who can move mountains to act. Even when we cannot receive what we ask, as Jesus’ prayer in Gethsemane demonstrates, we are to pray. But we pray believing that he can if he chooses do all that we might desire. He who is truthful in all else that he says is truthful here as well.

Click to go to the next post in this series.

Prayer and Its Misconceptions

Prayer is life for the Christian. It is the spontaneous and necessary cry to God arising from the struggles and hopes and failures and dreams of living in a broken world. Prayer is something we cannot imagine being without. At the same time, prayer is a mystery. It is a discipline and it is hard.

And for most of us prayer is a weakness which becomes, in the end, a burden.

KnockingBut is prayer a weakness because it is hard and unnatural for us, or do we find ourselves weak in it because of a misconception of what it is to be? If one trains to be a painter using a faulty and impossible standard, even though he may be good he will judge himself to be weak because he is using erroneous evaluative criteria. Perhaps we are overly critical of our practice of prayer because we are building our critique upon a false model of prayer.

Any book that would seek to correct our false ideas of prayer could, in fact, free us to pray. Such is, in my opinion, the value of David Crump’s Knocking on Heaven’s Door. It’s not well known, but surely any book whose title riffs on a Bob Dylan song is deserving of at least a glance.

A glance was all I needed. The book’s subtitle promises that this is “A New Testament Theology of Petitionary Prayer”. David Crump, a professor of religion and theology at Calvin College in Grand Rapids, Michigan, sets out to ‘explain’ prayer as it is presented in the New Testament, which means rescuing prayer from the misconceptions of a well-meant but often mistaken evangelical and fundamentalist heritage. Crump treats that heritage with respect, but his commitment is to Scripture, and it is in opening the Bible to careful attention that he excels and is most helpful.

In reading (and then re-reading – VERY rare for me) I found his explanations of the biblical text careful and thorough and his conclusions convincing. And this book did what few other books on prayer have been able to do. It made me want to pray. In this case, it made me want to pray not because of the effect prayer has had upon some great saint, and not because of some great promise made about prayer. It made me want to pray because I was able to better see it for what it is, and God for whom he is.

I want to spend the summer walking through this book giving readers of this blog a glimpse into Crump’s arguments and conclusions. I want us all to think more clearly about prayer. As well, I want this book to be more widely known. The content is good, the writing accessible (though, at times, more ‘scholarly’ in feel than some may want), and the exegetical model is exemplary. As with any book, I cannot agree with everything in it. But what is here has shaken my world in a good way and is inviting me to change the way I look at and practice prayer as little else has done. Crump’s goal and mine, as I attempt to summarize his work in these posts, are the same:

“May this study so transform both the author and the reader that we will learn to ‘always pray and not give up’ (Luke 18:1)” (page 19)

Yes. May it be so.

Click to go to the next post in this series.

Surviving Ministry

I posted a few weeks ago a post in which I pondered the oddities of Amazon’s book reviews. No matter whether the book was good, bad, or so-so (in my judgment, at least), every book’s profile eventually assumes a certain ‘shape’. Most reviewers love it, and few hate it.

It was as I was thinking about these things that my friend Mike Osborne gave me a copy of his recently released book, Surviving Ministry: How to Weather the Storms of Church Leadership, on dealing with the struggles of ministry. Mike has been through the mill, as they say, which is a powerful image when you think about the mill stones used to grind grain into flour. Who wants to go through that?

Which is precisely the question. But many pastors do, and some do not come out the other side. Mike’s heart and desire in this book is to help pastors endure, survive, and flourish. And he does a great job in reaching that desire.

But when Mike asked me to review it – on Amazon – I was inwardly conflicted. What if I only thought the book was ‘so-so’? What if I didn’t like it? I can’t write a glowing review of something I find less than stellar. I know Mike’s heart, but I did not know how that would translate to the page. If I had to write critical things, what would that do to our friendship?

As I say in the review (and what follows is taken largely from my Amazon review) that was an unfounded fear. I can honestly say that this is a wonderful book. It is deeply helpful for the pastor entering ministry or struggling to survive conflict. Mike is genuine and transparent. He is a good pastor and a man committed to Christ’s church and Christ’s people. And he cares for pastors.

He gives practical guidance for those seeking a call to a church, for those seeking to survive one, and for those who have come through a difficult experience. His words ring true because he has lived that of which he speaks. He has made the mistakes he calls us to avoid. From the vantage point of one who has survived, he reaches out a hand to guide us through.

The book is well paced, showing a careful balance between instruction and illustration. It is practical and biblical and thoughtful. And it is SHORT which in itself is a virtue. Mike gets to the point quickly, and I consider that a gift (one I do not have).

Having read the book, the best testimony I can give is to buy it and give it to others, which I have done. I recommend other pastors buy it and read it themselves.

The only problem I have is the book’s price. Amazon has it listed for $22, pricey for a book of 150 pages. The publisher explained to me the reason for that, but that does not make it easier for us on a budget. What does make it easier is to buy the Kindle version ($9.99) or to buy it directly from the publisher ($17.60 plus shipping). And yet, I say, ‘Pay it’. I’ve paid such prices for books far less helpful.

Amazon Ratings

Below is a screen shot of the spread of Amazon ratings for three books. The first, I really liked. The second, I was not too thrilled with, but it was not bad. And the third I thought was awful (also here).

I’m guessing there is a lesson here of some kind, but I’m not sure what it is. At the least, it’s interesting. To me, at any rate.

Reviews

How to Experience Awe and Intimacy with God

Tim Keller, the now well-known pastor of NYC’s Redeemer Presbyterian Church has had a significant impact in my circles and on me personally. He’s one of the finest preachers I’ve ever heard, uniquely gifted to speak with wisdom and clarity to a confused and skeptical age. His teaching has straightened a great deal of my own confusion. I have been thankful for just about everything Tim Keller does and has done until now. His book Prayer: Experiencing Awe and Intimacy with God seems to be one in which he loses sight of both his audience and of the type of book he wanted to write.Keller Prayer

Instead of writing a book on prayer, he has written a manual on how to use prayer to have an experience of God. The subtitle has swallowed the title.

Keller says many good things. Prayer, he reminds us, is not about getting stuff. It’s much bigger than that. And he reminds us that emotions are to play a role in our Christianity as much as our brain. Prayer is more than a routine and a duty and a tool, and it is important that we are reminded of that.

But I get the odd feeling that prayer remains a tool, in this case a tool by which we get an experience of God.

I appreciate Keller’s insistence that we who are created for an eternity of the ‘full enjoying of God’ are in fact to experience some level of awe and intimacy. Communion with God and an experience of his nearness and fatherly affection are great gifts. But that is a different book, it seems to me, than one on prayer. I think that is the book he wanted to write.

There is a wealth of wisdom deposited here, but it feels like a research paper. The wisdom revealed is wisdom wedged into a fairly sterile report on the teaching of the saints of the reformed church. We hear very little of Keller’s passion and very little of any struggle he’s had in prayer. I come away knowing what Calvin, Luther, Augustine, John Owen, Jonathan Edwards, and CS Lewis taught about prayer, and more pointedly, about experience with God and, to be honest, to be in the company of such men can often discourage we mere mortals.

And this is where I think he loses sight of his audience. I consider myself a fairly mature Christian and I believe myself to be fairly disciplined in my Christian walk. And yet I think I need to turn in my Christian Maturity Card whenever someone tells me to read Luther’s letter to his barber which is called ‘A Simple Way to Pray‘. His barber may have found it simple, but I find nothing simple about it at all. I find it daunting. I’m greatly moved by Calvin’s chapters on prayer, and I’ve read and been touched by John Owen’s “Meditations on the Glory of Christ” and “Communion with God“. But I can’t be these men any more than members of my congregation can be me.

To set them as the standard for intimacy with God is to set a standard that none of us can reach, and we will instead, more likely than not, walk away or give up or despair.

Give up

I have experienced awe and intimacy with God, but I can’t show another how to ‘do’ that. I’ve wept in services of worship when my life situation and the word preached and the songs sung all flowed together to remind me of my Father’s love. I’ve been moved to deep humility holding the communion cup in my sinful hands knowing how undeserving of such grace I am. At times I’ve almost danced! I’ve had those experiences, but they come by putting myself where God works and waiting for him. I can’t teach another how to have such an experience.

Keller shares a tender story about a father and a son. The son knows he has a father when he is walking with his father. But he knows that reality with far greater warmth and passion and depth when the father scoops the child up in his arms and holds him tight. Keller’s point is that it is this latter experience of God that we should long for.

I agree! But it is a mistake to think that by doing prayer and meditation as he outlines it here will guarantee this. As I think about that image, what I learn is that it is good to be near to the Father. It is good to walk in his presence. It is good to be where he works. But it is his sovereign choice to grab us and hug us. If I try to implement a strategy whose goal is experience, I’ll meet frustration.

You will not have my experience of God, and I will not share yours. You should not aspire to the experience of Augustine, Calvin, or Keller. We can simply walk with God, even through the wilderness. If he chooses to reach down and hug us, we are grateful. But if we know that he has lived, died, and been raised for us, that may need to be enough.

Experiencing PRAYER

Keller PrayerI want to ask a favor of any of you who have read Tim Keller’s book Prayer: Experiencing Awe and Intimacy with God. I want to know about your experience of reading the book. I’m not asking what you thought of the content, though that is related, and I’m happy to hear.

But I’m mostly interested in knowing how your heart reacted to reading the book. That is, were you encouraged or discouraged or something else? Did the book make you feel like you could do more or did it frustrate your efforts? How did you respond to the book emotionally? Did it make you angry? Did it make you happy? Did you feel like it was written for you? Or did you find the book mystifying, like the author aimed and missed where you were at?

I’m not asking for a publishable review. Just a few thoughts on the experience of reading it. You can put these in the comments section below, for all the world to see (and I rather doubt that Tim Keller reads this blog, so you are certainly safe on that front) or you can email me privately. Either way, I’m interested.

Thanks!

Wit and Wisdom

Watching the deeply moving movie Wit several years ago made me deeply appreciative of the work that nurses do. Among other things, the film reminds us that the most direct connection between medical care and the patient is the nurse. Her (or his) skill and compassion makes a world of difference in how illness and death is experienced.

After it was over, I had to call my daughter, a nurse, and thank her for what she did. (Further thoughts on that first viewing here.)

20696006I recently finished reading Being Mortal by surgeon, professor, speaker, writer, husband, and father (a man with way more time than the rest of us) Atul Gawande. It is a deeply personal, well-written, and engagingly thoughtful book, subtitled “Medicine and What Matters in the End”. Gawande leads us through the tangled web of issues that confront us when we consider death and what leads up to it. I read it as a pastor but found that it would be a worthy read for any who expect that someday they might, you know, die.

I especially appreciated the tour that Gawande gives of the line, the very thin and often imperceptible line, between decisions that prolong life and those that simply postpone death.

If the hero of Wit is the nurse, the heroic role in Being Mortal is played by hospice. Hospice nurses and doctors navigate that line between life and death with greater insight and often a better hold on reality than the rest of us. In my experience, and that of Gawande, they humanize experiences that others make clinical. And they do it well. In thirty years of ministry when I’ve been in the presence of death, I’ve always found the presence of hospice to be deeply comforting and an indispensable blessing.

And so, when I finished reading Being Mortal, I had to, once again, pass on my appreciation to my daughter who is, to be precise, a hospice nurse.

The point for readers here is not my daughter, as it is for me. The point is to watch the movie, to read the book, and to be pointedly grateful for those you know whose work and calling bring them to the side of those who need them when, in life and death, they need a humanizing touch.

To Rest

One of the more famous, or oft-quoted, observations of Herman Melville in Moby-Dick is his judgment that it is rest that best equips the harpooneer to fulfill his role of spearing the whale.

To insure the greatest efficiency in the dart, the harpooneers of the world must start to their feet from out of idleness, and not from out of toil.”

As with many such observations, we can manipulate this one to fit our situations, even to justify our transgressions. “Mom, I can’t clean my room right now as I’m preparing to do my homework and, as Melville says, ‘To insure the greatest efficiency’ I must start to my feet ‘from out of idleness, and not from out of toil.'”

Whaler

Still, the observation bears the aroma of painfully ignored wisdom. For many, and pastors such as I can be the worst offenders, rest is equated with inactivity and inactivity with idleness and idleness with ungodliness.

Through such twisted logic we limp to our pulpits worn out from too many late nights and early mornings. We put off our children and friends until we can fit them into our schedules. We assign our wives one night of conversation per week. And we leave our passions untouched and our gifts un-nurtured until we ‘find the time’ that forever eludes. We lead lives of noisy and busy, not quiet, desperation.

Rest is a precious gift that characterizes much that we can profitably say about Christianity which is why my inability to rest is at best counterintuitive and at worst a revelation of a deep-seated lack of faith. Jesus calls to himself all ‘who are weary and burdened’ so that he might give them rest. And through the prophet Isaiah God says:

“Come, everyone who thirsts,
come to the waters;
and he who has no money,
come, buy and eat!
Come, buy wine and milk
without money and without price.
Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread,
and your labor for that which does not satisfy?
Listen diligently to me, and eat what is good,
and delight yourselves in rich food.” (Isaiah 55:1, 2)

I come. Slowly, but I come. And I come with the help of kind and generous friends. Friends within and outside of my church last weekend sent my wife and I away to a resort cottage near the Gulf of Mexico. Our orders were to do nothing, to avoid certain stressors, and to reconnect with ourselves and one another. We went. We rested. And maybe we moved closer to genuine habit. Time will tell.

Melville set his famous observation as a corrective to the then common practice of making the harpooneer serve as an oarsman on the whaling boat. When the boat drew near to the whale and the time came for him to launch his spear his energy was spent. So Ishmael observes,

…in the vast majority of failures in the fishery, it has not by any means been so much the speed of the whale as the before described exhaustion of the harpooneer that has caused them.

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