I Need Thee Every Hour - 578
Call to Worship
Good morning! I’m Pastor Ashley. To those here in the sanctuary and those joining us online: we are so glad you’re here!
This morning, we will sing songs of worship, pray together, hear from scripture and one another, as we move toward the pinnacle of our service: the table of our Lord, where we will take the bread and drink the cup in remembrance of our most Gracious Host, Jesus. The purpose of our time together each Sunday is to bring our hearts closer to the heart of God, so I invite you to participate in as much or as little in our prepared liturgy as your spirit is willing.
We welcome all sounds and smells from the youngest to the oldest among us. The Kids Corner is in the back for anyone who needs to move around and play to worship God this morning. There is also a nursery available. We know that the energy and spirit of children can be different than adults and we consider that a gift.
There are information cards in the pew in front of you—if you are a guest, or if you have moved and have not updated your info with the church, please fill it out and drop it in the offering plate when it goes by later in worship.
For those watching online or for those who would like to follow along, our liturgy for every service is posted on our website before the service begins.
Thanks to everyone who helped make the golf tournament happen yesterday! It was a beautiful morning.
We invite you to Sunday School at 10 AM every week. There’s classes that meet in the Seekers room and the Parlor. There is also a combined children and youth class that meets in the MUB. Godly Play meets behind the sanctuary for our younger elementary students.
The Seekers’ Class invites you to game night next Wednesday in the Fellowship Hall at 6:30 pm.
Mark your calendars for Trunk or Treat on Sunday, October 30 at 5 PM. If you’re interested in helping, please see Becky or Nancy.
We will also have our annual All Saints service on Tuesday, November 1, at 7 pm in the Heritage Building.
And putting this on your radar now: on November 6, we will have a Blessing of the Animals and Stuffed Animals. We will have a pancake breakfast service in the parking lot at 11 AM where you are invited to bring your pets for a blessing. It will be a very abbreviated service, so there will be no need for you to sit through long service wrangling your animals. If you animal does not play or pray well with others, or if they’re too big to transport, I invite you to bring a picture of them for the blessing. Children are invited to bring their favorite stuffed animal for a blessing. All creatures of our God and King are welcome.
And finally, in bittersweet news, Gini will be leaving us soon. Her last Sunday is next week, October 23. You can read her letter to the congregation in this week’s eblast. We invite you to send notes of love and gratitude to her for her extensive service to Azle Christian Church over the years. We’ll pray a prayer of blessing and send-off over her next week so make plans to attend.
We continue our October series today called Let Me Tell You a Story: Jesus Stories from Luke.
Let’s pray to turn our hearts toward God for this hour.
Spirit of truth, open to us the scriptures, speaking your holy word through song, through the bread and cup, and through offering ourselves, and meet us here today in the living Christ. Amen.
Alleluia! Hear God’s Story - 330
Litany of Faith
One: I lift up my eyes to the hills; from where does my help come?
All: My help comes from the LORD, the maker of heaven and earth.
One: The LORD will not let your foot be moved, and the One who watches over you will not fall asleep.
All: Behold, the One who keeps watch over Israel shall neither slumber nor sleep.
One: It is the LORD who watches over you; the LORD is your shade at your right hand.
All: The LORD shall watch over your going out and your coming in, from this time forth for evermore.
(From Psalm 121)
Come, Holy Spirit, Heavenly Dove - 248
Children’s Moment
Anthem: I Won’t Back Down
Sermon
Luke 18:1-8
Then Jesus told them a parable about their need to pray always and not to lose heart. 2 He said, “In a certain city there was a judge who neither feared God nor had respect for people. 3 In that city there was a widow who kept coming to him and saying, ‘Grant me justice against my accuser.’ 4 For a while he refused, but later he said to himself, ‘Though I have no fear of God and no respect for anyone, 5 yet because this widow keeps bothering me, I will grant her justice, so that she may not wear me out by continually coming.’ ” 6 And the Lord said, “Listen to what the unjust judge says. 7 And will not God grant justice to the chosen ones who cry out day and night? Will God delay long in helping them? 8 I tell you, he will quickly grant justice to them. And yet, when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?”
This is the word of God for the people of God. Thanks be to God.
We have to remember that Luke is a doctor, not a poet. While his account of the life of Jesus is detailed and methodical, and at times beautiful because of the stories in it, he’s no John. You know, John writes these long essays that you might find on a syllabus about theological theory. And Mark, well, he writes little poems about Jesus—short and to the point—but never with the aim to make the reader feel comfortable. And then there’s Matthew, of course. He lays out historical significance, he includes key sermons, he draws on Jewish imagination.
But Luke, well, he doesn’t want to be disruptive, you see. At the same time, he tries to say: look here at Jesus, and also, nothing to see here, Rome. Which is why I find it comical that before Luke tells us the parable that apparently Jesus gave, he tells us what it’s about. Everyone knows if you explain a joke, it becomes less funny. It loses its punch.
But Luke does it anyway. He says, look this parable you’re about to hear with its tenacious widow and unjust judge, it’s about prayer, okay? Don’t read into it.
Well, I’m sorry, Luke, but I’m an English teacher at heart, and we are going to read into it today. And we may find that it’s not about prayer, or not only about prayer.
And here’s how we’re going to do it. I’m going to tell the parable 3 ways. And then we’ll regroup afterward and discuss what we’ve learned. Sound good? Alright, let’s go.
Take 1:
In a certain city, there was widow. She was the ripe old age of 32, having just lost her husband in a boating accident. She had been to court three times trying to get some kind of justice for what had happened to him.
She would swear on her three children that it was the fault of the captain. Everyone knew he drank too much, and he didn’t exercise caution when the clouds rolled in. And now the whole crew is dead, except magically the captain, and there’s nothing to show for it. She’s got mouths to feed and no prospects for another marriage anytime soon, and besides, she misses her husband.
So since she can’t get any justice the old-fashioned way, the acceptable way, the civil way, she’s got to take matters into her own hands. She is a mama bear, and a grieving, raging widow, and she is not taking no for an answer.
So one night, she decides to roll out of the bed she shares with her children while they are sleeping, and walk down the road to where she knows the judge lives. She tiptoes down as the rest of the street settles down for the night, and she stands quietly in front of the judge’s door, gathering her nerve.
And then she starts pounding on the door. The door swings open, and a disgruntled judge stares at her bleary-eyed, trying to place her.
She says, “You have now heard my case three times, and you have denied me justice every time. Once on a technicality. Once because you thought I was too emotional. And the last because you were just tired of hearing from me. You asked me if I had any men in my life to take care of things. Well, obviously I don’t. And I’m here because I have kids to take care of. I lost my husband because of a reckless captain that is still taking boats out on the water. I am owed justice.”
He mumbles something rude and slams the door in her face.
Stunned, she stumbles home and climbs into her bed with her children and cries hot tears of bitterness. By the morning, she has resolved to repeat the night before. And so she does, every night, for three weeks.
On the last night, she is so angry and exhausted from knocking on the door every night, that spittle flies from her mouth and she ends with these words, “I swear to God, if you do not give me justice, the justice you have the power to give and are refusing to do so, I will punch you in the face in broad daylight, and these bleeding knuckles of mine that have been pounding on your door for three weeks, will smile in satisfaction.”
And so the judge gives her justice. He charges the captain, takes him into custody, dries him out, and makes him pay recompense to all the families who lost their men at sea.
In the end, the widow got her justice. But not without severe cost to herself and to her family. To some, she’ll be known as the tenacious widow. The one who did what it took to get justice for her family. To others, she’ll be known as the one who broke the law and threatened a judge and couldn’t take of her grievances the appropriate way.
And to still others, it won’t matter whether or not she got justice or how she got it, they’ll just think of her as the one who kept them up with all that knocking, not caring about who she woke up or what noise ordinances she broke.
And when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?
Take 2:
In a certain city there was a judge who neither feared God nor had respect for people. He had seen too much in his job. He became jaded a long time ago. He knew that religious folks weren’t always the nicest folks—in fact, it kind of seemed to be the opposite. Sometimes the religious folks were the meanest folks. And he wasn’t interested in any God that was responsible for that.
He had gotten into law because he wanted to make a difference. It was a family business that he admired, and his altruism as a boy led him to that first day in court like a lamb to a slaughter. He had no idea what was coming. It quickly became clear that justice wasn’t blind and the law was bent toward those who already had the power to weasel out of things.
What could he do? He had tried to stay clear-eyed and open-hearted, but society was just bad. Maybe that wasn’t kosher to say, but he didn’t see any point in the work he was doing besides collecting a paycheck.
That’s why it was so surprising to him that night when the widow pounded on his door. As she was yelling at him, he tried to clear the sleep from his eyes and from his mind to remember who she was.
She was in his court? Three times, she said? Well, honestly, that’s on her. If she couldn’t get the law to work in her favor, she just needed to accept her lot in life. That’s just the way things are, honey. He slammed the door and tried to put her out of his head.
But then she came back. And she kept coming back. Every night. He had just grown accustomed to waiting up for her tantrum when she finally threatened him with physical violence. And it’s not like he wanted to press charges or anything.
It’s just, well, he didn’t want to walk around with a black eye and have to explain it was a woman who had done it. And everyone would know—she had been pounding on his door and shouting for three weeks straight. They all knew her case backwards and forwards by now.
So he relented. He brought the captain in. He made the drunk make reparation for his actions. She got what she wanted, didn’t she? I mean, he isn’t inspired to believe in his job again, but there’s a part of him that is glad she can get on with her life instead of being hung up on this and stuck on his doorstep.
But there was another part of him that wondered if what he did counted as the right thing. If his younger self would have been proud. Does delayed justice still count as justice? He didn’t want to know the answer to that question.
And when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?
Take 3:
In a certain city, there was a door. It had once been a tree, long ago. A mulberry tree, actually. He had once heard a carpenter tell a story about a mulberry tree being uprooted and planted in the sea with faith the size of a mustard seed. He always thought it would be nice to be planted in the sea. To feel his roots tickling the sand and fish come up to munch on the moss that grew on his trunk.
But then he was chopped down instead of uprooted and found himself cut and sanded and shaved until he was flattened out for a house. He was the door to a house of a judge.
He didn’t care much for human professions—he thought their whole system of deciding who was good and who was bad was nonsensical. They could learn a lot from trees, how they held roots underneath the ground and pulled each other gently down to water sources.
How they provided shade and homes for animals with no expectation of repayment. How they moved so slowly—indiscernible to the human eye. Over one day or one year, the tree may seem inanimate. But over the course of generations? Trees flourished and laughed and gave themselves to other life forms over and over again.
That’s why he wasn’t surprised when the woman starting hitting him so angrily that night. It hurt, he admitted. But he couldn’t blame her. This was her only way, he understood.
He breathed a sigh of relief when the judge swung him open to hear the woman’s case, but he was surprised to hear that the judge had already heard it. Three times already. And he was even more surprised when the judge slammed him shut.
He hated being used as a divider, as a weapon. He was meant to provide shade, to lay down his life as the carpenter had said, to give himself when it was time for the good of creatures’ flourishing.
And even though it hurt every time, he was glad the woman kept coming back. He had hoped she would. He absorbed the blood from her knuckles and considered them a sacred offering of her own. He accepted her pain and listened to the stories her blood told. Of her children. Of the time she was a child and skinned her knee after climbing a tree much like himself. Of the blood of her mother and her grandmother and her ancestors all speaking through her DNA.
He could sense a shift in her touch that last night. He ached to be swung open and bear witness to her receiving what she asked for. He wished he could give himself over to her to ease the pain she was in, but he knew that he was a vehicle, not justice itself. He was a threshold, not the end.
But when he heard the justice say those words the woman had been longing to hear, he didn’t feel relief like he thought he would. He felt like it was too little. Too late. Not enough. Not in time. He was glad something happened, but he was also ashamed that he was glad because he knew what could be.
Oh, if only the humans would focus less on chopping down trees and more on sitting underneath them. If only they could consider what it was to live an existence of freely giving, trusting in each other, rather than taking and hoarding and accusing. If only.
And when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?
The world inside this parable is one of futility. Nothing is as it should be. The characters don’t even fit neatly into their stereotypes. We think of widows as meek and mild because we read the Bible and know how much it talks about taking care of them, but in this story, she’s ferocious. She’s relentless. She could punch a civil servant in the face.
And the unjust judge, which is a trope that has a whole book in the Bible about them, and loads of passages in the prophets railing against them, actually does grant her justice in the end. We’re not happy with it. Justice delayed is justice denied. Why on earth is she having to knock on his door?
And we don’t feel great after hearing the parable because even the lines that follow about God granting justice to those who cry out and not delaying in helping his people fall flat.
Because I think we all know what it is to cry out day and night to someone who doesn’t seem to be listening. Who doesn’t answer our prayers. Who still lets our loved ones die. Who won’t cure our cancer or save our grandpa or fix our marriage or mend our relationship with our kid or help us make ends meet on a measly $7.25/hour or make our friend change their ways or restore what we have lost or whatever we have prayed for forever and ever amen without so much as a thumbs up from God.
In fact, this story of unsatisfactory justice might feel a lot like our prayer life sometimes. Or our relationship to the Creator of the Cosmos. Or our connection to the church. The notion that we must repeatedly bang on the doors of heaven if we are to catch God’s attention is hardly an appropriate theology of prayer, no offense, Luke.
But I wonder if this parable is less about the outcome of prayer and more about the experiment of it. Because in this world of futility found in the parable, the widow and the judge are not acting how we would expect them to. The world is not as it should be, that’s true. I wish a lot of things were different about it.
But the two characters both move beyond the confines of their roles. The widow pounds on a door and threatens to punch a judge in the face, that’s the actual Greek translation to “bothering me” that we see in the NRSV.
And the judge, though he has no fear of God or respect for others, is finally moved to action. That door opens to a more suitable outcome…eventually. The arc of the moral universe does bends a little toward justice.
As your pastor, I cannot promise that pounding on the door of justice or praying every day is going to bring you the outcome you’re hoping for. I’m not sure prayer works that way.
But I do think that prayer changes who we are. That it moves us beyond the confines of how we understand the world to work or what we can expect from each other.
I think some days we’re like the widow, and some days we’re like the judge.
But perhaps prayer is the door. The conduit for something to be different. For something to change. For something to break up the monotony of meaninglessness.
Our desire to resolve the story further is a prayer in itself. It is the doorway to a different world.
So don’t lose heart. Don’t back down. Amen.
O For a World - 683
Sharing Our Resources
There are many ways to support and resource the ministries of Azle Christian Church. You can give online on our website, on Venmo, or in the offering plate as the deacons come by during our final song. Don’t forget to drop your notification survey in the plate.
Invitation
If you’d like to become a member of this faith community, or if you’d like to become a disciple of Jesus, please talk with me after service or sometime this week.
Benediction:
Please rise in body or spirit for our benediction, the final song, and the Doxology.
Our benediction this morning comes from Tom Petty.
Receive this blessing….
May you know what’s right.
You’ve got just one life.
In a world that keeps on pushing you around,
May you stand your ground.
May you not back down.
Amen.
Take My Life - 609 v 1-3
Doxology