Faith and Persistence (Luke 18:1-8)

It’s nice to have a scripture to preach on which tells you upfront what it’s about. That’s not always the case with scripture. Sometimes, it’s hard to tell just what the scripture is about. Sometimes, the meaning of Jesus’ parables isn’t obvious at first glance. Sometimes, Jesus would tell a story, and when he would finish, the disciples would just stand there in silence, scratching their heads, until one of them would blurt out, “What are you talking about?” And then Jesus would explain it to them, or, in some cases, just shake his head and say, “Oh, ye of little faith….”

And sometimes, Bible stories will have a depth and complexity of meaning, different layers of meaning. Some Bible stories, like the one we heard last Sunday, I think I could preach on a hundred times in my life, and each time find some new meaning or significance.

For the past several weeks, I’ve been reading a new book by Diana Butler Bass on church history, and one of the things that has surprised me is how many Christian leaders and thinkers, even in the decades and first couple of centuries following Christ, found a plethora of metaphorical and allegorical meanings in scripture. Those ancient ones thought it a mistake to always interpret scripture literally, and they believed that there was some deeper meaning or truth to much of scripture; they believed that the meaning of scripture was what was important, not whether it actually happened or not. We sometimes think of this sort of Bible reading as a modern phenomenon, but actually, it’s as old as the faith itself.

The older way of reading scripture, the way that stresses deeper meaning rather than historical fact, is a type of reading that asks, for example: what was the significance of the exodus? Why was that event important? What does that story say about God? What does it say about us?

Such questions are deep, they’re timeless, they’re complex; they’re the type of questions that can lead to a lifetime of pondering and reflection, a lifelong journey of discovery as more and more layers of meaning are uncovered.

The parable of the unjust judge is not like that. There is deep meaning here, but we don’t have to peel back any layers to get to it. It’s right there on top. The introductory sentence explains very clearly what this story is about – or, at least, what the gospel writer Luke thought this story was about. It says that this is a parable about the need to pray always and to not lose heart.

And since Jesus told a parable about the need to pray always and to not lose heart, it seems that the disciples, despite their commitment to following Jesus, did, at times, lose heart, and that they also, at times, gave up – or were tempted to give up – on prayer.

They’re not alone.

A lot of people have given up on prayer. They’ve given up, because they prayed for a loved one’s miraculous healing, but death came anyway. They’ve given up, because they prayed to an end to their struggles, but the struggles just kept on coming. They’ve given up, because they prayed for an end to the sadness within them, but the sadness remains. They’ve given up, because they prayed for their family, and yet they’re forced to watch as sons and daughters continue to make one bad choice after another.

They’ve given up, because it seems that God has forsaken them. Like the psalmist, they say to God: “Why are you so far from helping me? Why are you so far from the words of my groaning? O God, I cry by day, but you do not answer; by night, but find no rest. Why, God, have you forsaken me?”

They’ve given up, because they don’t see the point of prayer. What’s the use? Too often, it feels like talking to a wall.

Jesus told a parable about the need to pray always and not to lose heart. It involved a judge who is cold and heartless. The scripture describes him as an unjust judge, although it seems to me that a warm, loving, overly sympathetic judge could be just as unjust, and perhaps even more so, since his sympathy could be used to sway his opinion. A just judge, at least in a court of law, is swayed only by the facts. His decision is based solely on the law. No sob story will influence his decision, and that, in a court of law, is usually a good thing.

Even a judge like that, Jesus says, is capable of favoring a person who pleads and pleads, a person who bugs him incessantly. Even a judge like that will eventually give in to a persistent widow.

God is not a judge like that. God is not impartial. God is not unbiased. God is not unsympathetic. God is partial to those who have been oppressed. God is biased in favor of those who are poor. God is sympathetic to those who suffer. God tends to side with those who are in need of healing and wholeness.

How much more, then, will God be open to listening to their cries! God, whose very nature is compassion, hears the cries of the oppressed, the sorrow of those who suffer.

Ah, but someone will ask, what about when prayer doesn’t work? What about when we pray for healing that never comes? What about when God is silent?

Well, I don’t know everything about how prayer works. I don’t know why God is silent much of the time. I don’t know everything.

However, I do know a story about a man who persisted in prayer. An ancient form of daily prayer is called the office, and this man prayed the office persistently.

I read about this man in a book on prayer by Robert Benson, whose friend this man was. I want to share with you the story as Robert Benson tells it:



My friend told me he had hated his ex-wife for a long time. He was not a particularly hateful person, and he was not particularly happy about feeling that way, but it was true, he told me.

I know this woman. I have known the two of them since they first met. It is hard for me to square the notion of writing a book on prayer and what I am going to say next, but here it is – it was hard to blame him. She is not the easiest person in the world to like….

In my friend’s prayer each day, he had a list of those who were close to him for whom he prayed at the appropriate moment in the morning office. He would pray, as the words of his office go, “for those who had been given to him and to whom he had been given.” And it was his custom not to say much about the names he said in his prayer; he would simply say the names and see their faces in his mind’s eye, trusting, as the prayer says, “that you will do for them far more than we can desire or pray for.” His kids were on the list, of course, and so were his brothers, and his new wife. I think I was on that list, though he never mentioned it, and I was too insecure to ask.

He told me that one day he decided to add his ex-wife’s name to the list. He said that he never said anything about her; he just said her name aloud and kept going. Dwelling on her name would have been more than he could do.

After some years, he said – he did not know how many – he realized one morning that he no longer hated her. It is, evidently, hard to hate those for whom you pray. The two of them are not best friends by any stretch, he told me, but the anger and the hatred were gone.

I know the words of the office he uses. I know the words he said before and after that particular part of the prayer. I know that repeating those fifteen or so words day after day, week after week, changed him, which is, of course, one of the objects of the exercise.

Some folks might have gotten their sooner. Some folks would have pretended to. Without the ancient words of the ancient prayer, he might never have gotten there at all.



It sounds almost ritualistic to pray day after day, week after week, especially if many of the words in our prayers are the same day after day, week after week. And maybe that’s true, especially if we are only praying to change God or to appease God with our prayers.

But if we are open to the Spirit working through our prayers to also change us…. if we say the words and trust in God even during the times of silence, well, who can say what will happen? Maybe hatred and bitterness will be wiped away. Who knows? Maybe, using ancient prayers, or even not-so-ancient prayers, we don’t always know what we’re praying for until one day the realization hits us in a powerful way. Maybe, we’ll even find wholeness and healing for ourselves as well as those for whom we pray.

What words shall we use?... The widow’s words were simple: “Grant me justice against my opponents,” she said to the judge. Day after day she said that, and in the end, the judge granted her justice, not so much because of the words she used, but because of her persistence.

What words shall we use?

You could simply pray for those who have been given to you and to whom you have been given, saying their names out loud, asking that God will do for them far more than we can desire or pray for….

You could pray the prayer that appears in our church newsletter, a three-sentence prayer that goes like this: “Use me to bring wholeness to my neighbor. Use my church to bring wholeness to our community. Show us how your kingdom of shalom can be made real on earth through us.”

You could pray the Lord’s Prayer. Probably you don’t even need to see the words written down to pray that one; most of you know it by heart.

You can use any of these, and you can pray. Day after day, week after week. If you are consistent and persistent, it’s possible that it still might be along time before you notice anything.

But I bet that if you continue in prayer, day after day, week after week, the day will come when you will realize that something has changed. And when that day comes, you will know, without a doubt, that God has heard your prayer.