The Audacity of Sons: A Primer on Prayer Text: Luke 11:1-13
Introduction: The School of Prayer
We come this morning to one of those moments in the Gospels that ought to arrest our attention completely. The disciples, who have seen Jesus heal the sick, cast out demons, and teach with an authority that made the scribes sound like sputtering schoolboys, make a very particular request. They do not ask, "Lord, teach us to do miracles." They do not ask, "Lord, teach us to confound the Pharisees." They see Him praying, and whatever it was they saw, it was compelling enough to make them say, "Lord, teach us to pray."
They recognized that the engine room of Christ's entire ministry was His communion with the Father. Everything else was exhaust. And they wanted in. They had seen John the Baptist's disciples praying, and they knew there was a form, a discipline, a way to it. They were not asking for a sentimental, spontaneous gush of feeling. They were asking to be trained. They were enrolling in the school of prayer, and the Lord Himself was the headmaster.
What Jesus gives them, and us, is not a magical incantation. It is a grammatical structure for relating to the living God. It is a primer on reality. This prayer is short enough for a child to memorize and deep enough for a theologian to drown in. It is both a set form of words to be prayed and a template for all our other prayers. It teaches us the proper priorities, the proper petitions, and the proper posture for approaching the throne of grace. And then, because our Lord is a master teacher, He follows the lesson with a series of parables and exhortations designed to drive the point home with the force of a sledgehammer. He teaches us what to pray, and then He teaches us how to pray it: with a relentless, persistent, shameless audacity.
Our generation is desperately confused about prayer. For some, it is a therapeutic exercise in mindfulness, a way of centering oneself. For others, it is a cosmic vending machine where you insert pious phrases to get what you want. For many, it is simply neglected altogether. But Jesus teaches us that prayer is the central business of the Christian life. It is a declaration of dependence, an act of war against the kingdom of darkness, and the loving conversation between a child and his Father.
The Text
And it happened that while Jesus was praying in a certain place, after He had finished, one of His disciples said to Him, “Lord, teach us to pray just as John also taught his disciples.” And He said to them, “When you pray, say: ‘Father, hallowed be Your name. Your kingdom come. Give us each day our daily bread. And forgive us our sins, For we ourselves also forgive everyone who is indebted to us. And lead us not into temptation.’ ” Then He said to them, “Which of you has a friend and will go to him at midnight and say to him, ‘Friend, lend me three loaves, for a friend of mine has come to me from a journey, and I have nothing to set before him’; and from inside he answers and says, ‘Do not bother me; the door has already been shut and my children and I are in bed; I cannot rise up and give you anything.’ I tell you, even though he will not arise and give him anything because he is his friend, yet because of his persistence he will get up and give him as much as he needs. “So I say to you, ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. For everyone who asks, receives; and he who seeks, finds; and to him who knocks, it will be opened. But what father among you, if his son asks for a fish, will give him a snake instead of a fish? Or, if his son asks for an egg, will give him a scorpion? If you then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask Him?”
(Luke 11:1-13 LSB)
The Divine Grammar (vv. 1-4)
The disciples' request is simple and direct. They see the reality of Jesus' prayer life and want to learn the discipline.
"And it happened that while Jesus was praying in a certain place, after He had finished, one of His disciples said to Him, 'Lord, teach us to pray just as John also taught his disciples.' And He said to them, 'When you pray, say: ‘Father, hallowed be Your name. Your kingdom come...'" (Luke 11:1-2)
Jesus' first word rearranges the entire universe for the believer. "Father." This is not a generic title for a distant deity. For a Jew to address God with this kind of familial intimacy was revolutionary. Through Christ, we are not slaves groveling before a tyrant; we are sons and daughters who have been adopted into the household of God. This one word is the foundation of all Christian prayer. If He is Father, then He is for us. He loves us, He provides for us, and He disciplines us. Prayer is not about convincing a reluctant God to do something; it is about a child talking to his Dad.
The first two petitions are not about us at all. "Hallowed be Your name. Your kingdom come." This is the essential God-ward orientation of all true prayer. Before we bring our shopping list of needs, we must align ourselves with God's supreme priorities. To pray "hallowed be Your name" is to ask that God's reputation, His character, His glory, be held as holy and sacred in all the earth. It is a prayer that God would act in such a way that the whole world would be forced to reckon with His holiness. It is a prayer for revival, for reformation, for the public vindication of God's honor in a world that constantly blasphemes Him.
To pray "Your kingdom come" is the great, optimistic, postmillennial petition. This is not a prayer for a secret rapture to escape the world. It is a prayer for the manifest rule and reign of Jesus Christ to advance on earth as it is in heaven. It is a prayer for the Great Commission to succeed. It is a prayer that the gospel would run and triumph, that nations would be discipled, and that the crown rights of King Jesus would be acknowledged in every sphere of life, from the family to the halls of government. We are praying for victory, for dominion, for the mountain of the Lord's house to be established over all other mountains.
Only after our hearts are aimed at God's glory and His kingdom do we turn to our own needs.
"'Give us each day our daily bread. And forgive us our sins, For we ourselves also forgive everyone who is indebted to us. And lead us not into temptation.'" (Luke 11:3-4)
"Give us each day our daily bread." This is a prayer of humble dependence. We are creatures, and we depend on our Creator for everything, from the air we breathe to the food we eat. This petition rebukes both anxious fretting and arrogant self-sufficiency. We are to work for our bread, of course, but we recognize that the strength to work and the fruitfulness of that work are gifts from His hand. It is a prayer for "daily" bread, not a lifetime supply. God trains us to trust Him one day at a time.
"And forgive us our sins, For we ourselves also forgive everyone who is indebted to us." Here is the hinge of our fellowship with God. We ask for forgiveness based on the finished work of Christ, but the evidence that we have truly received that grace is that we extend it to others. This is not about earning our forgiveness. A fountain cannot receive fresh water if it is clogged with mud. An unforgiving spirit is a sure sign that a man does not grasp the grace he has supposedly received. If you are hoarding bitterness against someone, you are choking the channel of grace to your own soul. Forgiveness is a debt, and because we have been forgiven an infinite debt, we are commanded to cancel the petty debts others owe us.
"And lead us not into temptation." This is a prayer of humble self-awareness. We know our own weakness. We know that our flesh is prone to wander. So we ask our Father to steer us away from situations where our faith would be tested beyond our ability. This is not a prayer to avoid all trials, for trials produce endurance. But it is a plea that God, in His wisdom, would not lead us into a trial that would shipwreck us. It is a prayer for protection from the evil one, and a confession that without God's guiding hand, we would surely fall.
Shameless Audacity (vv. 5-8)
Having given the content of prayer, Jesus now turns to the manner of prayer. And His illustration is intentionally shocking.
"Then He said to them, 'Which of you has a friend and will go to him at midnight and say to him, ‘Friend, lend me three loaves...’ I tell you, even though he will not arise and give him anything because he is his friend, yet because of his persistence he will get up and give him as much as he needs." (Luke 11:5, 8)
Notice the setup. It's midnight. The entire household is asleep. To get up would be a major disruption. The request is inconvenient in the extreme. And the friend inside initially says no. "Do not bother me." This is a picture of what our circumstances often feel like. The heavens are brass, the door is shut, and God seems to be asleep.
Jesus' point is an argument from the lesser to the greater. If a grumpy, inconvenienced human friend will finally give in simply to get you off his back, how much more will your loving, heavenly Father, who never slumbers or sleeps, give you what you need? The key word here is "persistence." The Greek word is anaideia, which is better translated as "shamelessness" or "impudence." It's the audacity of someone who will not take no for an answer. This is not about nagging God into submission. It is about demonstrating that you truly believe He is a good Father who gives good gifts. The persistence is not for His benefit, but for ours. It trains our desires. It strengthens our faith. It proves we are serious.
God is not the sleepy friend in the parable. God is the contrast to the sleepy friend. The parable works because of the difference, not the similarity. If shameless audacity works on a reluctant human, how much more will faith-filled persistence be honored by a willing Father?
Ask, Seek, Knock (vv. 9-10)
Jesus then distills the principle into three powerful, cascading commands.
"So I say to you, ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. For everyone who asks, receives; and he who seeks, finds; and to him who knocks, it will be opened." (Luke 11:9-10)
These verbs in the Greek are in the present continuous tense. Keep on asking. Keep on seeking. Keep on knocking. This is not a one-and-done affair. This is the rhythm of the Christian life. We ask with our words, expressing our dependence. We seek with our actions, participating in God's work and looking for His answers in the world. We knock with our perseverance, refusing to give up when the door remains closed. There is an escalation here. Asking is the petition. Seeking is the petition with feet on it. Knocking is the petition that refuses to be denied.
And the promise is absolute. "Everyone who asks, receives." This is one of those verses that our sentimental age gets tangled up in. Does this mean God is a cosmic genie who gives us every foolish thing we ask for? Of course not. The promise is given in the context of the entire teaching. We are asking as sons, according to the pattern He gave us, for things that hallow His name and advance His kingdom. When we pray like that, the promise is ironclad. We will receive. We will find. The door will be opened.
The Good Father's Good Gifts (vv. 11-13)
Jesus concludes with his final, and most powerful, argument from the lesser to the greater. He appeals to the basic, creational goodness of earthly fatherhood, even in its fallen state.
"But what father among you, if his son asks for a fish, will give him a snake instead of a fish? Or, if his son asks for an egg, will give him a scorpion? If you then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask Him?" (Luke 11:11-13)
The logic is devastatingly simple. Even fallen, sinful, "evil" human fathers know how to give good things to their children. We are selfish and broken, and yet we love our kids. We want what is best for them. We would not mock their hunger by giving them a snake or a scorpion. It is unthinkable.
Now, Jesus says, consider your heavenly Father. He is not "evil." He is perfectly good, perfectly wise, and perfectly loving. If you, in your brokenness, know how to give good gifts, how much more will He? This is the bedrock confidence of Christian prayer. We are not praying to a reluctant deity, or a cosmic force, or an indifferent universe. We are praying to our Father.
And what is the ultimate good gift He gives? "How much more will your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask Him?" In Matthew's account, it says He will "give good things." Luke specifies the greatest of all good things, the gift that contains all other gifts. God does not just give us things; He gives us Himself. When we ask for wisdom, He gives us the Spirit of wisdom. When we ask for strength, He gives us the Spirit of power. When we ask for comfort, He gives us the Comforter. The ultimate answer to every right prayer is a deeper and fuller experience of the indwelling Holy Spirit. He is the fish, and He is the egg. He is the daily bread. He is the power by which the kingdom comes and the passion by which the Father's name is hallowed.
Therefore, we are to come to God with the simple confidence of a toddler asking for a cookie. We are to come with the shameless audacity of a friend banging on the door at midnight. We are to ask, and seek, and knock, knowing that the one we approach is our Father, and He gives good gifts. He gives us His very own Spirit. So ask. He is waiting to give.