David Bahn – Reflections

Now as they went on their way, Jesus entered a village. And a woman named Martha welcomed him into her house. ³⁹ And she had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to his teaching. ⁴⁰ But Martha was distracted with much serving. And she went up to him and said, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to serve alone? Tell her then to help me.” ⁴¹ But the Lord answered her, “Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things, ⁴² but one thing is necessary. Mary has chosen the good portion, which will not be taken away from her.”

11 Now Jesus was praying in a certain place, and when he finished, one of his disciples said to him, “Lord, teach us to pray, as John taught his disciples.” ² And he said to them, “When you pray, say:

“Father, hallowed be your name.
Your kingdom come.
³ Give us each day our daily bread,
⁴ and forgive us our sins,
    for we ourselves forgive everyone who is indebted to us.
And lead us not into temptation.”

⁵ And he said to them, “Which of you who has a friend will go to him at midnight and say to him, ‘Friend, lend me three loaves, ⁶ for a friend of mine has arrived on a journey, and I have nothing to set before him’; ⁷ and he will answer from within, ‘Do not bother me; the door is now shut, and my children are with me in bed. I cannot get up and give you anything’? ⁸ I tell you, though he will not get up and give him anything because he is his friend, yet because of his impudence he will rise and give him whatever he needs. ⁹ And I tell you, ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. ¹⁰ For everyone who asks receives, and the one who seeks finds, and to the one who knocks it will be opened. ¹¹ What father among you, if his son asks for a fish, will instead of a fish give him a serpent; ¹² or if he asks for an egg, will give him a scorpion? ¹³ If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!”

I used to think I was a pretty good pray-er. I had leaned into the praise hymns of Revelation, had taught the P.R.A.Y. (Praise, Repent, Ask, Yield) prayer outline. I regularly exercised my prayer muscles by praying with church staff and members. I regularly led our elders to spend the first 20 minutes in prayer at our monthly meetings. Although I haven’t completely failed at praying the same way I used to, I do feel as though I’m a bit off my game.

Thankfully I do have some help. Occasionally I will read John Baillie’s A Diary of Private Prayer. It is a treasure trove of morning and evening prayers for each day of the month. I also subscribe to the Moravian Daily Text email. It has two Bible verses and a brief prayer. Well and good. But still feel like a musician who hasn’t practiced as much—still able to play, but not with the same confidence or ease. My prayers feel a bit scattered, sometimes routine, sometimes reaching, but not always as deeply connected as before.

So I’m with the apostles when they ask Jesus to teach them to pray. Jesus offers us a beautiful pattern in The Lord’s Prayer. It’s found here and in Matthew’s gospel. Luke has,

“Father, hallowed be your name.
Your kingdom come.
³ Give us each day our daily bread,
⁴ and forgive us our sins,
    for we ourselves forgive everyone who is indebted to us.
And lead us not into temptation.”

Simple words with profound meaning. I use it nightly, sometimes even falling asleep while I’m praying. (What better way to fall asleep, right?) Perhaps I need a bit of Mary’s better choice of sitting at the feet of Jesus, not worrying about how I’m going to pray, but listening to his voice.

In the end I take comfort in knowing that prayer is not about my eloquence or performance, but about God’s presence and embrace. He hears, even when my words feel weak, and He welcomes me, even when I struggle to find the right ones. It’s not about my ability to pray well, but about his gracious invitation to be with him, and his promise to hear when I call.

Father…