Kirkepiscatoid

John 15:16:

"You did not choose me but I chose you. And I appointed you to go and bear fruit, fruit that will last, so that the Father will give you whatever you ask him in my name."

I came home last night with the full intent of winding down from a long week. I swear, I had a week of Mondays this work week with Thursday being the equivalent of two Mondays packed into one. My tendency when the week is particularly hectic, is that it takes a while. I can't just "sit." I have to sit a while and get up and distract myself a while, and sit again a while, etc.

This went on clear until midnight or so, when I was reclining in my lawn chair in the back yard and finally, the dancing of the moon behind thin clouds could catch my attention long enough that I could just sit and be gentle with myself. Just lounged there with a blanket on me, watching the night sky, feeling my inner self finally able to loosen and join in the dance that the moon and the light cloud cover had provided.

I realized this week has been a huge week in my prayer life, too. Many people this week with troubles, issues, and catastrophes in my world. My tendency is to want to "do something" for them. But most of these are issues where I must simply "sit and be with where they are," and let things unfold for them. None of these things have a single facet where I can even begin to have a delusion of control.

In working on John 15 this week, verse 16 keeps jumping out at me, for two different reasons.

"You did not choose me but I chose you."

Huh? Wait a minute. Wasn't it me that did all the work? Haven't I been the one who became disciplined in prayer? Learned to sit still, at least a little bit? Don't I get any credit here?

As I watched the moon trip behind a cloud and pop back out again, as I heard the breeze rustle in the trees, the limbs fan-dancing across the moon, I had to admit...nah...I have only entered into what was already there for me. God had prepared a banquet in my wilderness heart, and had been keeping the food warm all this time, simply waiting for me to finally show up and sit down at the table. When I finally sat down, it was the banquet that drove all that work. It was the eating of this nourishment that was there all along that gave me the energy to do all those things "I" have been doing. My only "credit" was to have enough sense to eat.

Then I focused on the other half of that verse that kept poking at me.

"...so that the Father will give you whatever you ask him in my name."

That "getting what you ask for" thing that is sprinkled throughout John really historically bugs me. It's one of the most misinterpreted things in the Bible, I believe, and entire ministries, particularly in some segments of evangelical Christianity, have been built on people praying up wish lists to Santa God, or God the Cosmic Coke Machine, where you stick your prayer quarters in, and out comes a fat bank account, true love, or a Cadillac.

But a lot of John 15 talks about how when we follow Christ, or obey God for that matter, we are "not of the world." I got to thinking there is a transformation in "what we ask for" as we become more Christ-centered and more spiritually connected. Our heart's desires become clearer and what we "ask" for changes. As we understand better what is of God and what is of the world, we also understand what "asking in his name" really means. It doesn't mean "if I tack 'in Jesus' name' on the end of my wish list, I'm covered." It means to ask for what truly comes out of the holy parts of ourselves at those moments we feel connected to God. They tend not to be things of the world.

I could sit down right now and simply go, "Ok, God, I want an extended cab pickup, a winning Powerball ticket, and for my sick and hurting friends to be healed." Maybe one of two things go the way "I want." Most will not. God's going to let us down every time when it comes to simple "worldly wants."

Does that mean God doesn't listen? Does that mean "I'm not doin' it right?" Does that mean God really doesn't exist? The answer, of course, is "none of the above."

More and more, when I pray for, as we say in Form III, Prayers of the People, in the BCP, "our own needs and those of others," I realize what I am really, truly asking for is for others and myself to simply see God in everything.

When I pray for a sick or hurting friend, I am really asking that they see God in the darkness.

When I pray over a strained relationship with a friend, I am really asking that we find a way to honor our Baptismal Covenant to "seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself."

When I pray over a difficult circumstance, I am really asking God to help me put my whole trust in His grace and love.

I am not asking for "a worldly outcome."

In those things, if we can accept what has been chosen for us, we will always "get what we ask for." Even if the outcome is "not what we wanted or ordered."

In the death of a friend, you might finally come to the full realization of what the intensity of their life's light was in your heart.

In the loss of a job, you might finally come to the place where the next job "fits you" better.

In the pit of financial uncertainty, you might discover what it is that you really need.

These are all things God can deliver, and does, time and time again.

But you have to dare to sit down at the table and eat.