Wednesday, March 29, 2017

Pray for Parking? Seriously?


I have a quick question.

Let's say that after church I want to rush home and watch some afternoon football. But first I'll stop in downtown Lawrence to pick up a Chipotle burrito for a carry out lunch (probably a grilled chicken with sour cream and cheese).

Now the question. As I rush downtown, do I pray for a parking place?

If we say yes to the question, that would be selfish and self-absorbed. It would be like making God our personal genie, whose main duty is to make our life easy.

But hold on a minute. Do we really want to say no? Do we actually want to say to a holy God that we don't need His help? Is this not the primordial sin of self-exaltation and independence from God? And if that isn't bad enough, what if we think God is too busy to listen to our dinky supplication? Or that maybe He doesn't care? Those thoughts blaspheme the character of God.

So do we pray?

So much for a quick question.

Paul wrote to pray without ceasing (1 Thess 5:17), and just as it was important to the Thessalonians, so too is it important to us. Prayer shows us what we are, finite and needy, and if we give any thought to the matter, self-focused and sinful. Prayer also shows us what God is, sovereign, infinite, and holy. In prayer we acknowledge our dependence upon God. But more importantly, ceaseless prayer keeps us before the throne of grace, before the face of God, where we are forced to decide whether we want our will to be done, or His.


So pray for a parking place?  Well if I'm praying without ceasing, my prayers have begun long before I reach Chipotle. But what if I haven't been in prayer and am now confronted with the need for a parking place? I vote to pray, to consciously place myself before the face of God. For what an excellent time to begin the practice of ceaseless prayer. After all, downtown Lawrence can be messy, just as life.

Originally posted February 2014

Monday, March 13, 2017

What Does God Look Like? (The Power of Story)


Children are full of questions, but its usually the five-year-old boy who asks this one. You know the kid. He'll be running around the place with his toy plane, swishing it around and making noise. Then all of a sudden he'll turn to you and ask, "What does God look like?"

And there you stand.

Adults dont ask such questions. They dont have the time for such things. Also there are the problems of the physical describing the spiritual, the finite understanding the infinite, in short, the creation comprehending the creator.

But even in the adult world, the question remains. Its haunting and demands an answer. What does God look like?

When Jesus walked the face of the earth, he actually addressed this issue. No, he never told us what God looked like; instead he showed us. And he used the power of story to do so.

So whats the answer?

God looks like a shepherd who leaves 99 sheep to search high and low for a lost lamb (Luke 15:4-7), then calls all to rejoice when it is found. God looks like a king who forgave an unbelievable debt, one impossible to repay, just for the asking (Matt 18:23-35). God looks like a rich landowner who showed grace when he paid his vineyard workers at the end of the day (Matt 20:1:16). Or how about this? God looks like dad, running towards his stinking son, a boy dressed in rags and smelling like pigs (Luke 15:11-32).

When we read these stories what do we read? Well we may read a story about a dignified father running, hugging, and kissing his filthy son, but we are shown a stunning picture of our heavenly father.

Though these images are not photographically clear, the stories of Jesus have provided us, as through a dark or dim glass, a picture of the face of God. Only story has this power to communicate the infinite to the finite, the holy to the sinful, and truth into a hard heart.

So what does God look like? Is the question really important?


The question is extremely important, for in the quest to seek its answer will reside the meaning of life. And that is very important to the five-year-old who lives within all of us.

Originally posted February 2014