"If You're Asked to Pray for a Drunk"

Pastor Nagle
02/20/2005

“If You’re Asked to Pray for a Drunk” John 3:16 The Second Sunday in Lent February 20, 2005
“Pastor,” she said, “I need to add something to the prayers this morning.” “Of course,” I said. “For whom should I pray?” “For my husband,” she said. “For my drunken no- good husband who has pushed me to the limits. And I want you to ask God to send him to hell if he doesn’t stop.”
The text for this morning is at the conclusion of the gospel lesson. It’s the very familiar John 3:16—what Martin Luther called “the gospel in miniature.” Conceivably, you could throw away a lot of the New Testament and concentrate on this: that God intends the whole world should be saved. A world which, I suppose, includes drunken no-good husbands. Though some suggest that in order for the whole world to be saved, the whole world needs to believe. Shall we suppose that the drunken no-good husband was a believer? Do believers push those around them to the limits? Would anyone accuse you of not being a believer? Would anyone pray for you to become a better believer?
Prayer. That’s the emphasis for our gathering this morning, knowing that we’re supposed to be in conversation with God. A lot of people converse with God about the food they’re ready to eat. A lot of people converse with God about the trials they face in life. A lot of people converse with God about the sickness and pain common to us all. So that we’re all likely to admit that prayer is a good thing. But do you think I should have prayed about the drunken no-good husband, and where he should spend eternity? The doctrine of the church is that God wants everyone in, but that because some people act as if they don’t want to be in, they are in effect out. Some people would challenge that and say that, since we’re all sinners, we’re never likely to get in except through God’s grace. But some people say that for us to get God’s grace, for good things to happen, we need to work at it. But still others say that if you have to work at getting his grace, if you obey and sign on with him, even if you see your love of God as the guarantee of his favor, grace isn’t exactly the gift it was intended to be. Which may be far more theology than some people want to think about. Let me try again.
This morning, should we pray for drunken no-good husbands? Or would it be more right to pray about drunken no-good husbands? Either way, do you think God really notices, or cares? I mean, with a whole world to run, do you suppose God is going to concentrate on your problem? We say he does, we hope he does, but is it right for us to just sort of dump stuff on him, and expect he will handle it, and handle it the way we think he should. Or does he expect us to meet him half way? Or most of the way. Or at least a part of the way. Can I pray and ask God for a cure if I refuse to go to the doctor? Can I pray to God for peace and still pay taxes to finance war? Can I ask God to deal with my drunken husband if my husband drinks because of me? Or should I learn sometimes to sit quietly? If prayer is conversation you have with God, who does most of the talking? And what form should it take? In prayer, should we beg? In prayer, does God scold? In prayer, should we be patient and wait for direction? Would we follow God’s direction if he gave it clearly?
Church people, and even some people outside the church, generally accept John 3:16 as God’s directions. Or as his intentions. That God so loved the world that he wanted to hold an open house in his presence. And that he is far more ready to include people in than to exclude them out. Some people think that includes drunken no-goods. But be careful how you share that thought with people because not everyone agrees about the generosity of God. They say that God has standards. But in saying that, they seem to forget about John 3:17—what comes right after John 3:16. That “God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.” But what does that mean? That God has no standards, and that there’ll be drunks hanging off the pearly gates? Shouldn’t we pray that God has and maintains standards?
Foolish people insist that God should set standards, when they don’t see that they themselves stand in violation of the standards God has already set. But we still often go to God in prayer and list the sinners, all the people we consider sinners, maybe just to be sure that God knows who of us is faithful and who of us is not. Who of us is obedient and who of us is not. Who of us is holy and who of us is not. And do we pray like that because we think he’ll pay more attention to our petitions if we can convince him of our holiness? That’s what people believe, isn’t it—that God listens to the prayers of pillars of the church more than anyone drunk and no-good?
“Pastor,” she said, “I want you to pray about my husband.” Would I have reacted differently if the husband had asked me to pray for his wife? Should I have accepted the assignment for prayer but checked first to see what wording was expected? If someone asked you to pray for a drunken no-good, what should you do? Figure out who has the problem? Figure out who asks with kindness and who asks with spite? Figure out all the story’s sides? Figure out what other people believe? Figure out what you believe? Because what you believe colors what you pray.
”Pastor, I want you to pray for me and my drunken no-good husband.” OK. But what did you have in mind? “How about, Pray that he stops drinking. Pray that I stop nagging. Pray that he gets strength. Pray that I get patience. Pray that neither one of us is led into temptation. Pray that I see my own faults. Pray that other people are moved to love us. Pray that he and I both find insight into our lives. Pray that I won’t turn against God if my husband doesn’t put down his bottle this very day. Pray that I can love my husband in his troubles as much as God has loved me in mine.” Well, you get the idea. There’s more than one way to pray. But that the first petition that comes to mind may not be the best. Or the most appropriate. Certainly is not the only thing that can be said. About any of the drunks of the world. And they are many.
While some around us are drunk with liquor, some are drunk with power. Some are drunk with ignorance and some are drunk with arrogance. Truth be told, some are drunk with fervor, even religious fervor. And while some people over-consume and become happy drunks, some people turn mean. And selfish. And violent. And petty. And exclusive. Even religious people, who sometimes use John 3:16 as their touchstone for helping God keep people out. I say to you, Beware of people who use scripture as a means of keeping people out. Who pray to God like the Pharisee did and say, Thank you, Lord, that I’m not like that person. Thank you, Lord, that my family isn’t like that one. Thank you, Lord, that my church and my country isn’t like that one. But dear Lord, I pray to you that if my family or church or country ever starts to be like that one, give me a heads-up so I can get out of the way while you cut them down. While you look with horror at those awful people and cut them down. While you smile at me and cut them down in anger. But isn’t an attitude like that simply another example of drunkenness? If you’re ever asked to pray about a drunken no-good, be sure to ask what the drunken no-good prays. For it’s possible we might have to stand in line to get God’s ear.
Is part of the problem that we think we need to approach God first? You know, fully inform him about the state of affairs in our house, and the effect it’s having on us all. Make sure God knows that my no-good drunk is at it again. And ask God to make my life easier. And maybe you don’t see anything wrong with that. Isn’t one part of prayer the idea that we would like our life to be easier? That it is good to be free from pain, free from enemies, free from doubt. Have you ever prayed like that? And is that OK or not? Can’t I pray for myself, or should I always ask that someone else’s way be made easier first? And that if my own way is ever helped, that it comes to me as a bonus?
Pastor, I want you to pray something today, but it’s probably not what you think. Pray that I can know how many people are already praying about me and for me. Not to build up my conceit but to add to my humility. That in my own time of honesty, I can look at myself and say that my selfishness and my righteousness sometimes get in the way, so that I think I’m a virtual cornucopia of prayers poured out for others, when instead I should see myself as a sponge soaking up the love God sends to me.
Lord, my husband’s a drunk. And I’ve got my troubles too. Help us both understand John 3:16—and John 3:17—in such a way that we’re glad you’re willing to keep on talking with us, in prayer. Amen