Ask. Seek. Knock.

Preacher: Fr. Columba

Scripture Reading: Gen 18:20-33; Ps 138; Col 2:6-15; Lk 11:1-13

This week we move from listening to speaking. In Luke we heard Martha’s bustling hands and Mary’s quiet heart. We learned that love of neighbor flows from love of God. Now Jesus turns to teach us how to pray. He shows us that our words matter. He shows that our posture matters.

He begins by offering a version of the Lord’s Prayer. It is lean and piercing. It lacks some of Matthew’s flourishes. It strips away what we do not need. What remains are six simple petitions. “Father, hallowed be your name.” We bow in awe. “May your Reign come.” We long for God’s reign here and now. “Give us each day our daily bread.” We admit our need. “Forgive us our sins.” We name our failures. “Lead us not into temptation.” We ask for strength. “Rescue us from evil.” We seek God’s saving power.

We pray this prayer in nearly every liturgy. We recite it by heart. Yet Luke’s tight phrasing calls us to fresh attention. Each word stands alone. Each plea rings clear. We would do well to learn it by heart again. We would do well to speak it slowly.

The early church loved this prayer. In the Didache believers were urged to say it three times a day. Monks soon wove it into eight offices. They sang it with the psalms. They chanted it at dawn and dusk. They took those words into the fields and kitchens. They carried them into the desert. Other faiths took up similar rhythms. Islam has five prayers. The Bahá’í faith has nine. All trace back to ancient Judaism’s three daily prayers. We see that prayer shapes our lives. It forms our day. It forms our soul.

Yet if we repeat words as a ritual shell we lose their power. Jesus warns against that. He condemns prayers offered to impress others. He mocks the superstition that treats words like magic spells. He wants our prayers to spring from honest hearts. He wants our words to hold real intention.

So he follows with a parable. A friend wakes at midnight. He begs for bread. His neighbor sleeps. Yet he keeps knocking. He will not be ignored. He will not go empty handed. This story shows us that prayer is active. It is not a plea we utter once then forget. It is a life we live. It is a persistence we embrace.

Jesus tells us: ask and you will receive. Seek and you will find. Knock and the door will be opened. We pray with humility. We admit our needs. Yet we pray with boldness. We refuse to be ashamed. We persist until God answers.

When we pray “may your reign come,” we ask for God’s reign in our hearts. We ask for justice in our world. We ask for mercy in our homes. We ask for peace in our streets. We pray for the hungry, the lonely, the captive. We pray for the strong and for the weak. We pray for our church and for our city. We pray for our enemies and for our friends. We pray for the world God loves.

Prayer is not separate from action. It leads to it. It fuels it. A humble prayer births generous service. A bold prayer births bold love. Prayer and action form a single rhythm. We cannot skip one without skipping the other.

So here is my invitation. Carve out time each day to pray. Begin with this prayer. Speak it slowly. Reflect on each petition. Let the words settle in your mind. Then enter into silence. Let your heart listen. Ask God to speak. Pour out your hopes and fears. Be honest. Be bold. Be humble.

If five minutes feels too much, try three. If three is too much, try one. Name one need. Name one praise. Then end with the Lord’s Prayer. Let it guide your soul back to God.

As you pray, watch how your days change. Watch how your heart opens. Watch how your hands reach out. Watch how your life becomes a living prayer. Amen.