What Kind of Father?

Note: This transcript is AI-generated and may contain errors. Please refer to the original audio for the accurate information and meaning.

Summary

In this sermon, the speaker wrestles with the difficult reality of unanswered prayers and the grief of losing a close friend named Drew. By examining Jesus’s teachings on prayer in Luke 11, the message challenges the congregation to shift their perspective of God from a transactional manager to a loving, welcoming Father—much like the father of the prodigal son—who invites our raw honesty and offers us the ultimate gift of His enduring presence.

Key Points

• The Struggle of Unanswered Prayer: The speaker acknowledges the deep difficulty of prayer, especially when requests seem ignored during times of tragedy and loss.

• Questioning God’s Character: When prayers go unanswered, it forces us to ask the harder question: “What kind of God are we praying to?”

• God as the “Father of the Prodigal”: Jesus instructs us to address God as “Father.” This is not a distant patriarch, but a Father who runs to embrace His messy, broken child, even in their “stink.”

• The Invitation to Radical Honesty: True faith allows for raw honesty with God, including expressions of anger, frustration, and feelings of abandonment, much like we see throughout the Psalms.

• The Ultimate Answer: The promise of prayer is not that we will always get exactly what we ask for, but that the Father gives us Himself—His Holy Spirit and His presence to hold us in the midst of our suffering.

Transcript

Introduction and Gratitude All right. There’s an aura. It’s awesome. Great to be here, it really is. I’ve been tied in with Hanover Valley for 25 years. Forever, however long. I remember meeting in the basement of Drew and Becky’s house, and a lot of fun memories. A lot of fun memories with Drew.

Before I go any further, I’ve been asked to thank you all from the staff and team at Logos Academy Harrisburg. I’m no longer part of the leadership team. They didn’t fire me; they just got smart and transferred the leadership to a much more competent bunch. They are actually doing really, really well. In fact, people ask me to give a report, and every time I report on it, I stop and go, “Oh yeah, they’re really doing a whole lot better than when I was there.” There is more money, a stable staff, and we started this school year with everybody actually showing up—I mean teachers! We’ve had years where teachers just don’t show. We’ve been hiring, and some of you in the business world know that.

But in any case, it has been a great year, and I just wanted to express my thanks personally, and certainly from the staff, for your prayers, your support, and your efforts on behalf of what’s going on up there. Currently, pre-K through third grade, serving inner-city kids in Harrisburg primarily, making a Christ-centered education possible for them by underwriting about 90% of the tuition cost. So it’s an incredible mission. I am super proud of what’s going on, and I appreciate your support.

The Struggle with Prayer This morning, we are going to look at a passage, and it’s one of these passages that, frankly, made me mad. Linda said, “Why don’t you preach on something easier?” It’s Drew’s fault, frankly. I blame Drew, and he’s probably laughing, but I’ve been wrestling with this topic for several years. Once you step out of full-time pastoral ministry, you can start asking some really honest questions. Maybe you all do that, I don’t know. I get in my head pretty bad, and Linda knows that and suffers through it, but this whole idea of prayer—and then it comes to a point when we wrestle through the loss of Drew.

So I wrestle with this passage, and I think we’ve got to look at it. We’ve got to see what’s going on here. So if you don’t like it, it’s Drew’s fault.

Reading the Word: Luke 11 Hear the word of the Lord, from Luke 11, beginning in verse 1:

He was praying in a certain place, and after he had finished, one of his disciples said to him, “Lord, teach us to pray, as John taught his disciples.” He said to them, “When you pray, say: Father, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come. Give us each day our daily bread. Forgive us our sins, for we ourselves forgive everyone indebted to us. And do not bring us to the time of trial.” And he said to them, “Suppose one of you has a friend, and you go to him at midnight and say to him, ‘Friend, lend me three loaves of bread; for a friend of mine has arrived, and I have nothing to set before him.’ And he answers from within, ‘Don’t bother me; the door has already been locked, and my children are with me in bed; I cannot get up to give you anything.’ I tell you, even though he will not get up and give him anything because he is his friend, at least because of his persistence he will get up and give him whatever he needs. So I say to you, Ask, and it will be given you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you. For everyone who asks receives, and everyone who searches finds, and for everyone who knocks, the door will be opened. Is there anyone among you who, if your child asks for a fish, will give a snake instead of a fish? Or if a child asks for an egg, will give a scorpion? 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!”

By your grace and mercy, we pray in Jesus’ name. Amen.

What Kind of God Do We Pray To? As I mentioned, I’ve struggled with prayer. I’ve wrestled with it. I’ve mainly struggled with the question: “Why aren’t there answers?”

One of the reasons this is Drew’s fault is because there was a group of us that would get together and work on sermons pretty regularly. We did that for years. We’d preach on the same text in different churches, and we’d wrestle, do some initial work, and then go preach sermons that ended up being very different depending on the context. It was in that context that Drew made this famous statement that we harassed him about forever. He denied it most of the time, but at one point we were talking about prayer, and he said, “Prayer doesn’t really work anyway.”

A very Drew-like statement, and I love that about him. I love that he wasn’t afraid to doubt, and he was very transparent, but he took the Bible seriously. I’ve run into people who aren’t afraid to doubt, but then they don’t take the Bible seriously. He had that great balance. It frustrates me as I’m wrestling and struggling, as you are I suppose, with the loss of Drew. He’s the guy I’d sit down with and start asking some of these hard questions that I wouldn’t ask other people.

As you come to this passage, you read, “For everyone who asks receives, and everyone who searches finds, and everyone who knocks the door will be opened.” What? These sound like promises! My reaction is: I’ve got to scramble and fix this, and kind of bail God out on this one. Does He really mean that?

I kept sitting with this and wrestling with this, and what I realized—and in some ways it’s even more troubling than the struggle with the issue of prayer—is a tougher question: What kind of God? That’s what’s unnerving. Why doesn’t God answer a prayer that should be answered? Over the last several years, there have been a number of those that should be answered! If I was God, I would have answered them! And all of you, I know, experience that to some degree. What kind of God? Can we trust Him to ask, seek, and knock?

Frankly, when I read verses 9 through 10, I go, “You know, that’s the kind of God I want.” When I ask, I receive; when I seek, I find; when I knock, the door is opened. I’ve got it. That’s the kind of God I want—a God I can manage, that will manage my life, that will fix my problems, that will arrange things the way I want them to be.

The Father of the Prodigal But notice what Jesus’s very first word is in these instructions on prayer. The disciples ask him, “Teach us to pray.” What’s the first word? I know we’re Presbyterian and we don’t shout out. What’s the first word? Father.

I think that’s the key to all of this. Father. Not a God we can manage, but a Father with whom we have a relationship. A real relationship.

You’ll notice that’s where Jesus takes us in verses 10 and 11. Not a God to manage, but a Father. Which Father? A “how much more” Father. I have to pause there for a couple of reasons. I had coffee with a supporter of the school not too long ago, and we were talking about God the Father, and she said, “Oh, you know, the patriarchy with that. Why Father? Can’t we do parent?” If you’re struggling with that, put that aside. Then there are those of you whose situation in life when it comes to fathers is not pleasant. It’s painful. Many of my students in Harrisburg have missing fathers, or fathers who are in prison. When they hear the word “Father,” it’s anything but comfort.

But what’s the kind of Father that Jesus has in view here? It’s the Father of the prodigal. When you hear that word, you need to think of the Father of the prodigal. You know the story. The prodigal comes to dad: “Dad, give me my inheritance. I’m tired of hanging out here, I want to go off and live a life of fun.” So dad graciously gives him his inheritance. A horrible insult, kind of like asking the dad to be dead. The prodigal takes the funds, parties, and eventually finds himself working with pigs, eating pig food, stinky and dirty. He says, “You know, I could go back to dad’s house and live as a servant and be even better than this.” So off he goes.

The picture of a Father in view here is that prodigal’s Father. He is apparently watching, because the text tells us in Luke 15 he sees him when he was a long way off. And he goes running towards him. He’s not sitting back and going, “This guy took all my cash, he ripped me off, he insulted me. I’m going to see how really sorry this guy is.” That’s certainly what I would do!

But not that kind of Father. He runs towards him and embraces him. Think of that! Here’s a guy that’s been rolling in the pig slop. He had to stink! I love that imagery. This is a Father who is hugging a stinky son. Hugging someone who hasn’t even mentioned a word of repentance yet, who simply was coming toward him, and the Father runs. That’s the image you need to embrace in your brain. That’s what the cross shows us about the kind of God we have. A good Father. A Father who hears, who invites us to ask, who invites persistence like the pesky neighbor.

Radical Honesty in Prayer Prayer isn’t learning how to get something from God, and that’s starting to make sense to me. It’s about learning how to live as a child with our Father.

If you want a distant relationship, that’s not the kind of Father Jesus has in view here. It’s a real relationship with a real Father, a Father we can pester, a Father we can annoy. Sometimes I pray for open parking spaces. I go, “Should I bother the God of the universe with that?” Yeah! Sure! Ask freely, ask boldly! And the great thing is, we know if it’s not something that’s good, He’s not going to give it to us. You can think of prayers that you prayed earnestly for, and then, if you’re honest with yourself, you’ll go, “Oh yeah, I’m really glad God didn’t give me what I wanted there.”

But if it’s a real relationship, it’s a Father you can be honest with.

Drew again—see, it’s his fault. He went through some pretty terrible things. I remember saying, “Drew, what happens if it happens again?” You know what he said to me? He said, “I’m done with God.” This is a pastor saying that! I’m going, “Oh my goodness! Lightning, watch out!”

But can you say that to God? That wasn’t unbelief; that wasn’t heresy. That was somebody who had a real relationship with a real Father. A Father you can be totally honest with. I’ve talked to people who have said, “I could never say anything like that to God.” What does your prayer life tell you about your relationship with God? Can you be that honest?

“Oh, but that’s not biblical!” Have you not read the Psalms? There is not a single human emotion that’s not picked up in the Psalms. The psalmist accuses God of things! Look at Psalm 89. “God, you made this covenant, and you’re not delivering.” The psalmist is accusing God of lying! And then read Job. “You’ve abandoned me, you’ve forgotten me.”

That’s a relationship with the kind of Father Jesus has in view here. Why do we keep secrets from the one who knows every secret thought? He knows anyway! But for us to articulate it makes it real. When you’re able to do that, it draws you in. You wonder why there’s a barrier, that you’re not connecting with God? Could it be you’re too afraid to be honest?

I was talking to a lady in our church who lost her husband. I said something very pastoral like, “Now, don’t forget, God is with you and loves you.” She said, “It doesn’t feel that way.” But then the very next line was, “I don’t know how people get through this kind of thing without God.” I love that realness. There’s an intimacy that sustains.

Trusting the Father’s Heart We’ve got a Father who can be trusted even when He cannot be explained.

What about those things that we’ve prayed for? Prayed for Drew, prayed for others. There’s been tragedy, heartache, things that make no sense. What do you do with that? Why keep asking? Jesus doesn’t answer that. He points back to the character of the Father. What kind of Father do you have? It’s a “how much more” Father. A Father that when you ask for a fish, doesn’t give you a snake.

I want the “why.” But what I’ve realized is if I can figure out a “why”—part of God’s plan, God makes everything work out—that’s not the same thing as trusting a good Father. It’s trusting a design, a plan, but not the Father. Jesus doesn’t give us a “why.”

Trust begins when I don’t need to know why. This is what Drew was so good at: he’d point to the cross. God loved us so much that He gave His son. The cross shows us the kind of love the Father has for us. Look at Jesus’s ministry. He weeps. He enters into our suffering. When I can’t understand His ways, I can look at the Father’s heart. I may not understand what the Father permits, but I know the Father’s heart because I’ve seen it in the Son, I’ve seen it on the cross, and we rest in that.

The Ultimate Answer to Prayer What is it that the Father gives? Look how it ends: The Father gives Himself. Matthew says “good gifts,” Luke says “the Holy Spirit.” He gives Himself especially in the valleys. We often imagine prayer working like this: I ask, and God gives me the outcome I prayed for. The ultimate gift of prayer is not an outcome! It’s God Himself. His Spirit, His presence, His strength, His life in the middle of death. The greatest promise of prayer is not that the Father will always change what’s happening, it’s that the Father will meet us in what’s happening.

I brought up Drew’s statement, “Prayer doesn’t really work anyway,” in a small group. One person who was horribly abused as a kid said, “I prayed that God would stop the abuse. And it didn’t. But when I prayed, I sensed God’s presence with me.” Another guy who lost his spouse said something very similar: “I prayed, and God was there.”

We miss how much of a central part of the scriptures is the very presence of God. What does Jesus say to his disciples right before the ascension? “I will be with you always, to the end of the age.” The ultimate gift, the good gift, is God Himself. Our Father’s presence can be known, not merely believed. Sometimes His presence takes place in flesh—casseroles, a text, a call. Other times, it’s this sense that God is holding us.

I have moments where, frankly, I don’t want God. I want my friend back. I don’t want to live by faith. I don’t want Becky to hurt. I don’t want Hanover Valley to be without their founding pastor. Those are real. But then there are other moments in the dry bones of darkness and grief where God brings life and is holding me. What I’ve learned over the years in pastoral ministry is that’s when God seems to draw the closest. When did Jesus take hold of Peter? When he begins to sink.

I was helped by a friend going through a terminal illness. We asked her if she prays for healing. She said, “You know, I know He loves me, and I know He’s with me, and that’s enough. But I still ask, because He tells me to.”

The greatest gift is not what we get from God, but God Himself. His presence, His nearness. He is the “how much more” Father. That’s the kind of Father we have, and that’s the kind of Father that Jesus showed us.

Closing Prayer

Let’s pray.

Our gracious God, we are so thankful that You are the “how much more” Father. You’re not stingy, You’re not far from us, You’re near us. And yet there’s so much of our lives where we just feel that You’re distant, that You don’t hear. We get angry or hesitant to express it. Help us to see the Father that is defined by Jesus, the ultimate revelation of You. Help us to see the Father that embraces us and holds us even in our smelliness, even in our worst moments, even when we are overcome by doubt or we’re furious with You. Help us to be able to see Your love, Your grace, and mercy on the cross. And we pray that You would bless, grow us in grace, might we know Your nearness, might You draw near to us, and might You bless us. We ask in Christ’s name. Amen.