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2022

The Problem With Prayer STEVE BROWN

ALEX EARLY WHY I QUIT PRAYING FOR GOD TO "USE ME" KENDRA FLETCHER MAYBE OUR FREEDOMS AREN'T QUITE WHAT WE THINK THEY ARE?

BARRY SMITH THIS IS GOD! I HATE YOU! KeyLife.org

The Problem with Prayer by Steve Brown

I told God today what he did wrong yesterday. You what? Yeah, sometimes I grade God. Sometimes I cuss, spit, rant and complain. You’re probably not saved! I always had my doubts. Actually, I am saved and that’s the reason I pray the way I do. I don’t wear masks. In fact, prayer is about the only place where I can be honest, say what I think, and know I won’t be kicked out. I don’t tell God I love him when I don’t nor do I use religious phrases that aren’t true. (It really isn’t a good thing to lie to God because he knows exactly what we’re thinking.) If it weren’t for that honest time with my Father each morning, I’m not sure I would survive. Let me tell you about prayer and why it’s such a pain for many of us. You don’t fool me. I’ve been doing this for a long time. I know me and I know people. We use spiritual words (“quiet time,” “devotion,” etc.) to mask the reality that we would rather do something religious to ameliorate our guilt than pray. Most of us don’t like praying because 1) we’ve listened to “testimonies” from others about prayer (they’re generally lying but you don’t know that) and there is no way their experience comes close to matching our own, 2) we’re really busy doing God’s work and don’t have time to pray, 3) we really don’t believe that it does any good, and 4) frankly, we’re not sure that God will show, and it’s better to hope that he’s around than to check and find out

that it was all a fantasy and then have nothing. So we nod in God’s direction and get busy…always hoping that maybe God will show. It’s a kind of “waiting for Godot” without the waiting. More a “looking for Godot/God” thing while doing stuff for him, and hoping that he will be pleased and show up. All of us have been convicted at one time or another about our lack of commitment to prayer. When that happens, we promise God and ourselves that we’ll do better. Then we go about creating an “effective prayer life.” We think a “season of prayer” will reflect our seriousness and commitment. Then in our new “hour of prayer” each morning, we hit a wall. After the first five or ten minutes, we find that we said all we meant to say, worshiped all we knew how to wor-

The very seriousness with which we take prayer becomes the reason we give up “serious” prayer. ship, and prayed for everybody we’ve known since the third grade. That’s when our minds begin to wander… followed by the inevitable guilt. The guilt pushes us to “try harder” with no more success than the first time around. Eventually prayer becomes the proverbial “hot stove” the cat sat on—he won’t ever sit on a hot stove again, but he won’t sit on a cold one either. The very seriousness with which we take prayer becomes the

reason we give up “serious” prayer. So stop it! Just stop it! Let me give you a biblical base (these aren’t my ideas) for what I plan to say and then…just say it. The book of Psalms is, among other things, one of the most honest religious books ever written. It is a book of human emotions—all of them. As Dan Allender and Tremper Longman pointed out in their book, The Cry of the Soul, there is anger, hatred, doubt, fear, complaint and worship, always with an awareness that God is in charge of the whole show. In other words, if you get beyond Psalm 23 (a great Psalm, by the way, but not the only one), there is praise, worship, joy in God…and “cussing and spitting.” The writer of Hebrews says, “Since then we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast our confession. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us then with confidence [boldness in KJV] draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need” (Hebrews 4:14-16). After talking about how the mystery of the Gospel has been revealed, Paul says, “This was according to the eternal purpose that he has realized in Christ Jesus our Lord, in whom we have boldness and access with confidence through our faith in him” (Ephesians 3:11-12). Most of us know (but need to be reminded) that the term “Abba” in the Bible is a term of endearment…the way a beloved small child would address his doting father, not altogether dissimilar to our term “daddy.” Jesus addressed God as “Abba Father” (Mark 14:36). We are told it’s the way we address God (Romans 8:15). And Paul says that the Holy Spirit in us cries out to “Abba! Father!” (Galatians 4:6). Almost every Christian teacher,

preacher and leader (I include myself) urges us to pray more. There is noth-

Let me suggest that you should do it wrong...and then you'll discover the power of prayer. ing wrong with that and it’s probably a good idea. We get into trouble, though, when they (me included) tell us our problem is that we don’t take prayer seriously enough. There is nothing wrong with that either… except it’s not true. Let me tell you what is true: The problem with prayer isn’t that we don’t take it seriously enough, but that we take it too seriously…way too seriously. We’ve been taught to follow certain formulas and rules that are a part of proper prayer. We think that real prayer is a very sacred action and totally separate from the secular world. We’re sure that there is a proper position for prayer, a proper place for prayer, a proper way to address God, and a proper set of words that constitute prayer. We have schools of prayer, prayer retreats, and courses on prayer in our churches. We design certain liturgical forms of prayer to make sure we cover all the bases; and everybody knows that if you don’t close your prayer with the name of Jesus then your prayer won’t “work.” Do it right, we imply, and you’ll find that there is great power in prayer. Let me suggest that you should do it wrong…and then you’ll discover the power of prayer. I have a close friend who asked me to help him with his poor prayer life. He expected me to teach him techniques and methodologies of prayer to make him into a “prayer warrior.” Instead I told him to allow only five minutes a day for prayer. “Not only that,” I told him, “You don’t have to

do it on Saturday because God will want a break and you don’t have to do it on Sunday because going to church will be sufficient. So take five minutes and only five minutes. If you take more than that, I’ll pray you get the hives.” He asked me what he should do in those five minutes. “Whatever you want to do,” I replied. “Just take the five minutes and show. You can dance or laugh or tell God jokes if you want to. You can cry or complain if you need to. God will be glad to see you. But don’t increase the five minutes until you come back to me and ask permission to increase it.” Do you know what happened? It changed his prayer life. He found that the time with God was one of the best parts of his day. While my friend didn’t ask permission, he found that his prayer time increased naturally and so did his looking forward to that time with his Father. Do you remember when Jesus’ disciples asked him to teach them how to pray? They expected far more than he gave them. In fact, before Jesus taught them, he said, “And when you pray, do not heap up empty phrases as the Gentiles do, for they think that they will be heard for their many words. Do not be like them, for your Father knows what you need [or think] before you ask him [and before you express it]” (Matthew 6:7-8). Then to their surprise, Jesus gave them a very short and to the point prayer. In fact, it was so short that ever since he taught them, Christian teachers have been trying to correct Jesus’ “mistake” by saying that The Lord’s Prayer is a “pattern prayer” or a “formula” for serious prayer. No, it isn’t. It’s a “cover the bases” prayer that, once you’ve prayed it, you can do what you want in his presence. So for God’s sake (and yours), don’t do it right. Do it wrong. Just show. Getting it right is so much a part of our DNA (one of the major repercussions of the fall) that we see God’s

primary goal in dealing with his creatures is to get us to “do it right.” Prayer isn’t the exception. There is no “right position.” There are no “right words” (a pastor said that when he fell down a well it was the best praying he ever did…on his head shouting, “Help!”). There isn’t a “right formula.” And there isn’t a “right way” to do it. I once went to dinner at a friend’s house. He picked me up on his way home from work and when we went through the front door his two children (a little boy and a little girl) completely ignored me and practically knocked me over getting to their father. They jumped into their father’s arms and, to my surprise, they all started dancing and laughing. I remember the little girl shouting in between her giggles, “Daddy, daddy, listen to what happened to me today!” So my time of prayer each morning is not very religious. Sometimes I am prostrate on the floor, sometimes I play solitaire on the computer with him looking over my shoulder, sometimes I just quietly sit in his presence, sometimes I tell him where it hurts or plead with him to help, sometimes I confess my sins (those prayers are very long), and at other times I “cuss and spit” or tell him where I think he did it wrong or, maybe even, tell him a joke that I know he’s already heard…all the time in his arms shouting, “Daddy, Daddy!” When you’re dancing with someone who likes you a lot, that person doesn’t generally care if you dance properly. He asked me to remind you.

WHY I QUIT PRAYING FOR GOD TO "USE ME" by Alex Early

know me, I know you’re grinning).

Me, the navel-gazer

To this day I still have all of my old journals. They’re so embarrassing to read. Though when I wrote them, I thought they were filled with wisdom and profound insights. Turns out, I may be the greatest naval-gazer in the history of the world. Every couple of years, I’ll pull them down to read them and see if I’ve grown much, if any, in my walk with God. The one phrase that is on every page is “Use me.” And you know what? That’s sad. Really sad. “Why is that sad that you asked God to use you?” Here’s why—I’ve come to believe that God is far more relational than utilitarian. God did not save me so that he could merely “use me.” The obvious rebuttal would be “Oh! But ‘you were created in Christ Jesus for good works!’" (Eph. 2.10). And I could not love that verse more! However, chronology counts and chapter one comes before chapter two. My huge error has been to study chapter one and want to apply chapter two. In Ephesians one, Paul says that “he [God] predestined us in love for adoption as sons” (Eph.

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I grew up in the church and for that I am eternally grateful! I have given my life to the planting of churches and raising up leaders within churches. I simply cannot imagine my life without the local church and the invaluable role it has played in my life. Though often messy, it is clear to me that God has not given up on but rather loves and inhabits his Church. The Church is what Jesus gave his life for and therefore, the church is what I am giving my life to. I became a Christian at the age of 15 and knew I was called into vocational ministry within 90 days. So, one prayer that I picked up on by leaders around me and started praying myself was this—“God, please use me in this world for your glory and our joy.” It sounds right and even biblical. Yet, to be quite honest, I didn’t pray that prayer from a heart that was content with God. No, I prayed that prayer because I wanted to perform for God, others, and myself. I wanted God to give me a platform, put me in front of people that would laud me with praises, and admire my piety. True story. (For those who are reading this that

1.5). That now changes everything! Jana and I did not have children in order to “use them.” We had children so as to love them, raise them, teach them, and bless them and I’m becoming more convinced that this is nearer to the heart of God.

My confession is simple

Deep down, for the majority of my Christian life, I have lived, prayed, and “served” because I related to God as my employer, not my “Abba Father” (Gal. 4.6; Rom. 8.15). With God as my divine employer, I could count and quantify my work for him and be the judge of whether I was “useful” or not. Having God as my employer, love, intimacy, acceptance, and belonging were not the name of the game. No. Productivity and getting things done are what was important. Meditation, confession, and repentance were replaced with planning and strategizing. Communion will always trump the calendar. Furthermore, with a divine employer, it was so easy to compare and compete with other Christians, who I saw as fellow employees. Measuring myself against other Christians or students in Bible College and seminary, a secret pride in my heart, robbed me from authentic friendships that include transparency and gut-wrenching vulnerability. When I was broken, at my lowest, I found out just how consumer-based my relationships were. I needed family, not coworkers, to comfort me, and I had none. I’ve wondered why I’ve tried to create a wobbly platform or climb the rickety ladder in evangelical circles so many days of my Christian faith and I’ve come to conclude and repent of the fact that I’d rather study the love of God rather than be

consumed by it; thinking about the love of God rather than actually feeling loved by God felt safe. I, like so many Christians that I know, would rather forego my daddy issues and sweep my own brokenness under the rug and look like I have it all together and get on to the “good works prepared for me.” My struggle is not one with being productive in the work of the church as much. No, my struggle has been to actually see myself as one of God’s sons based solely on the work of his Son, the Lord Jesus. To believe that God wants me, loves me, and totally accepts me is where it gets real.

“Are you not my darling child”?

In the most powerful anthropomorphic language in the Bible, God is communicating that he is far more relational than utilitarian. In Isaiah 49, the image is one of a nursing mother with her baby. In Hosea, the image is a daddy teaching his toddler to walk by taking him up by his little arms. In Jeremiah, the Father says, “Are you not my darling child?” Do I want to be used by God in this world? I think that’s the wrong question to be asking these days. Will I have the nerve to go beyond studying the love of God and allow God to love me in such a way that I feel his love in this world? If so, I’m certain that walking in the good works prepared for me won’t feel so much like “work” but will in and of themselves feel much more like the reward because I’m going to work with my Abba Father. Bottom line—God has children, not employees. God gives us a covenant, not a contract. God gives us love, not busy work.

MAYBE OUR FREEDOMS AREN’T QUITE WHAT WE THINK THEY ARE? by Kendra Fletcher The whole entire book of Colossians is blowing up my life. The explosion is a long time coming, because back in the First and Second books of Peter (letters he wrote to struggling Christians he knew), I couldn’t walk away from my reading without wrestling with a lot of little niggling things. I read those two short books just last month, so the collateral upheaval is acute as I sit here in February of 2022 in the wake of what isn’t quite yet a wake of a pandemic. I’m not a Bible teacher, so I won’t be parsing Scripture here. But if you are curious to know where God seems to be lighting a little TNT under the churches Peter and Paul wrote to in the books of 1 & 2 Peter and Colossians, hold onto your hat for a few combustible moments.

Actually, just two:

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Peter lays out the Christian’s identity in the second chapter of 1 Peter. He uses words like a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his possession. The meaning of each of those monikers can be broken down and cross-referenced and have been done so by commentators across the centuries. The short version is that when God enters the life of a believer in Christ, that believer becomes his. He goes on to say, Look—you’re so loved by God and protected by him and secure in his love for you, you don’t need to do all the empty things you were doing to make yourselves feel better about yourselves. The reminder of who the believers are and whose they are should make us religious people relax. He loves us! And then, Peter drops the bomb. “Submit to every human authority because of the Lord, whether to the emperor as the supreme authority or to governors as those sent out by him to punish those who do what is evil and

to praise those who do what is good. For it is God’s will that you silence the ignorance of foolish people by doing good. Submit as free people, not using your freedom as a cover-up for evil, but as God’s slaves. Honor everyone. Love the brothers and sisters. Fear God. Honor the emperor." — 1 Peter 2:13-17 Excuse me, but what? I picked up my phone and texted an older, wiser friend who actually is a Bible teacher and I asked, “How do we read the second chapter of 1 Peter and demand from our leaders our perceived freedoms? Is it just me, or do we submit to our government, even if we lose our earthly freedoms to do what we want?” Before I disclose her reply, I want you to know that I wasn’t being pawky when I asked. And in the political climate that has seen mask mandates and protests and freedom convoys, I know I risk losing some of you, too. It’s okay. Maybe you read this passage differently than she and I have. You have that freedom. But here’s her response to me: “I think we submit. And look like Jesus whatever the cost.” Can you feel the shrapnel? When Jesus blows up our expectations and bids us to take up our cross to follow him and “look like Jesus whatever the cost,” there’s a lot of shrapnel. It changes us. It makes us look at our lives a little differently. It burrows itself into our broken places but always, always in light of the reminders that we are just what God has called us: His. For his glory and our good. Remember whose you are and that he never, ever wastes what we give up to follow him.

This collection includes: - Steve’s book Approaching God: Accepting the Invitation to Stand in the Presence of God - Audio CD - a special event featuring Pete Alwinson and Steve discussing the themes of the book. - We’ll also include a handy booklet with excerpts from the book.

GET IT TODAY!

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THIS IS GOD! I HATE YOU! by Barry Smith

bly until he died. An unfortunate side effect of long-term use of some antiseizure medication can be a medication-induced psychosis. Paul’s psychosis had started several months before and was getting progressively worse. I dropped my head and ran a finger across my broken nose and then rubbed my broken rib. The previous Sunday, during a psychotic episode, Paul head-butted me in the face and punched me in the chest. This is God! I hate you! Everyone hates you! When I married Gail, I knew that that also meant having Paul in my life. While not trying to replace his father, I had, for seven years tried to be a “Dad” to him. But this was too much. I hadn’t signed up for this. This is God! I hate you! Everyone hates you! “I can’t do this anymore,” I thought. “I’m done.” Right on the heels of that 9 thought, I mean immediately

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This is God! I hate you! Everyone hates you! I was sitting at my desk in my home office, trying to work on a lecture for the Seminary-inPrison class I was scheduled to teach the next afternoon. My 26-year-old stepson Paul was standing in the hallway, just outside the office door. This is God! I hate you! Everyone hates you! If this was like previous episodes, Paul was going to stand there for a couple of hours, yelling at me until he was hoarse. This is God! I hate you! Everyone hates you! Sixteen years before, when he was nine, Paul had contracted an encephalitis virus which left him with cognitive impairment and intractable epilepsy. It was necessary for him to take maximum dosages of multiple antiseizure medications. Even with the medications, he often had 15 or more seizures a month. Without the medications, he would have seized uncontrolla-

after that thought, I heard a “voice” in my mind, “If Jesus is patient with you, how can you not be patient with Paul?” This was not the first time this had happened, not the first time, as Paul’s psychosis had gotten worse, as he had screamed at Gail or me for hours, as it had become increasingly difficult to leave the house with Paul, as I had looked into a future of this with no end, that I’d thought, “I’m done,” and then instantly been challenged by the “voice.” “If Jesus is patient with you, how can you not be patient with Paul?” I reflected on Jesus’ patience with me. I thought about my many sins, my broken promises, my failures, my selfishness, my willful disobedience. I meditated on the truth that even though I had given him many reasons to say, “I can’t do this anymore. I’m done,” Jesus had never said that about me. There are 202 times in the ESV translation of the Bible where the phrase “steadfast love” is used to describe God’s covenant commitment to his people. His love is steadfast, unchanging, not because of what his people do or don’t do, but because of who he is. Jesus is a steadfast lover. I meditated on Psalm 25:6-7— "Remember your mercy, O Lord, and your steadfast love, 10 for they have been from of old.

Remember not the sins of my youth or my transgressions; according to your steadfast love remember me, for the sake of your goodness, O Lord!" This is God! I hate you! Everyone hates you! I again bowed my head, but this time in prayer. I asked God to help me remember Jesus’ patience and steadfast love for me, and to give me the grace to be more like him, to be patient and loving with Paul. I am not yet perfected. I still have moments when the old man comes out of me. But I did learn patience and love during those terrible months. I am a better person, more patient, more kind, and more considerate of others. Though I am not glad that Paul had to suffer with psychosis, I am grateful that God used it redemptively in my life. This was one of the last psychotic episodes Paul had. Two weeks later, after several failed attempts at finding an effective medication, Paul was prescribed one that eliminated the psychotic symptoms. That was April 2017. In July, Paul passed away in his sleep. Gail and I will always be grateful for the gift of having the “old Paul” with us for his final few months.

Laughter and Lament: The Radical Freedom of Joy and Sorrow

g Arrivin ! r 24 e b o t c O

What do we do with the sadness and the joy that living in a broken world brings to our lives? Most try to avoid the tears and focus on finding happiness, but does that really work? Denial might help to alleviate pain for the short run, but eventually lament must be faced and expressed. Learning to lament honestly to God is the surprising path to learning about real joy.