On Earth as It Is in Heaven

-->

From Luke 11:1-13

*****

In today’s translation of the Lord’s Prayer, we read it simply:

God:

Reveal who you are.

Set the world right.

Keep us alive with three square meals.

Keep us forgiven with you and forgiving others.

Keep us save from ourselves and the Devil.

If this prayer isn’t clear enough, Jesus tells a parable.  You’ve finally gotten your kids to bed and they’ve stopped with the “one more story,” “a last sip of water,” “a final hug,” “I need to pee,” “but I love you so much” routine and they’re asleep.  You’ve shut off the lights, brushed your teeth, collapsed into bed.  Exhausted from the day’s routine of work and family life – there’s never enough time for it all – you’ve fallen into a deep and sound sleep.

The doorbell rings.  Blearily, you open your eyes.  You glance at your clock.  It’s 2:00am.  With every fiber of your being, you despise, utterly hate the person ringing your doorbell.  And you ignore it.  If they don’t know they’ve woken you, perhaps they’ll go away.

Listen – I get it.  I don’t have kids and I love my job, but let me tell you a story.  For those of you who don’t know, our house is a small and lovely little Cape Cod in a charming neighborhood just a couple of block from the college.  It has a delightful three season porch on the front with side-by-side windows on all three sides.  Even better, the porch not only has a door with glass panels that opens into the living room, but that same wall has three massive windows that open between the living room and porch as well.

I like my quiet life and I’ll freely admit that I know exactly none of my neighbors by name and fewer than three of them by sight.  There may or may not be children living on my street, but I can say with high confidence that there are children in – or who visit – the larger neighborhood.

Not long after we’d moved here (probably in the 14-16 month time frame – maybe 20 months), the Boy Scouts were once again selling popcorn.  The boys (who looked at most to be in 3^rd or 4^th grade) were wandering through the neighborhood in pairs, carrying their brochures and order slips, and pulling a red wagon of available product behind them.  I swear to you, Normal Rockwell once painted this scene.

I have just finished a walk around the closest college campus – and I had a lovely time.  Husband has wandered off to his campus office at the University.  The house will be empty except for the cats.  And because those charming little creatures like to see more of the outside world, Husband has left the door between the three season porch and the living room open.  The shades have been pulled up.  The windows are open.  Light is streaming into the house as I walk up the street and I’m looking forward to getting home and resting in the peace and quiet.

And then, I see them.  The Boy Scouts.  Five houses down and headed in the wrong direction.  I know that if I enter the front door, they’ll see him.  I begin to panic.  This wasn’t part of the plan.  This isn’t how I wanted to spend my afternoon.  So, I keep walking.  To the end of the block.  And around.  To the alley.  And I walk carefully through the backyard.  And I slowly, and as quietly as possible, slip my key in to the back door.  I unlock it.  I turn the knob.  I slide the door open just enough to enter.

And then I hit the floor on all fours as the doorbell begins to ring.  I slide the back door closed.  I army crawl into the kitchen – being careful to remain behind the dining room table and the living room couch.  Once in the kitchen, I roll to a sitting position with my back resting against a cupboard.  “How long, oh Lord!?” I silently plead, as the doorbell rings and rings.  A mystical windchime that serves as the harbinger of death.

The cats have disappeared entirely.  I swear the Boy Scouts stand there ringing the bell for 45 minutes.  (It’s probably more like 45 seconds).  “Deliver me from evil, Lord!” I pray.

Eventually the Boy Scouts left and I spent my afternoon doing what I had hoped to do all along – avoid all contact with human kind.

So, back to our story – it’s not 2:00pm, it’s 2:00am.  It’s not the faceless, nameless Boy Scouts who might living nearby; it’s your next-door neighbor and good friend Bob.  He isn’t there selling the devil’s snack that will inevitably got stuck in your gums and requires industrial dental floss and minor surgical instruments to remove; he’s in desperate need of a loaf (or three) of bread.  An old friend from his neighborhood has shown up – in dire straights – and Bob is delighted by the opportunity to lend a hand, but he doesn’t have enough on hand.  Can you please just help a guy out?

And because he’s now been ringing the doorbell and calling out loudly for 45 minutes, you know he isn’t going away.  The rest of the neighborhood is beginning to rouse.  And everyone knows that you are the generous, reliable, helpful, good Christian in the neighborhood – the person everyone counts on.  You’ve built your entire life on this reputation.  So, you get up; you welcome Bob in; you invite him to your kitchen; and together you pick out a couple of loaves of bread, a quart of milk, a half a dozen eggs, and a slice or two of ham.  You wish Bob well and after shutting the door, locking the deadbolt, cutting the electricity to the doorbell, and collapsing back into bed.

Here’s the thing – Jesus isn’t telling us, “God is just like you in this story!  If you keep knocking and asking and seeking, God will get up and give you bread to save God’s reputation!”  No!  Jesus is telling us, “God is the one who is knocking and this is what it means for God to reveal Godself – on earth as it is in heaven:

“Open your door!”

“This is what it means for God to set the world straight:

“Show hospitality to your neighbor and the stranger!”

“This is how God meets our daily needs:

“You feed the hungry among you!”

“This is how we know and understand God’s limitless forgiveness of our sins:

“Only in the measure by which we show forgiveness to others will be experience the forgiveness of God.”

“This is how God makes the world a safer place:

“Our choosing to live in community keeps us all safer together.”

God’s love is never conditional – so why is ours?  Why do we ask for full forgiveness from God, yet dole out piecemeal forgiveness to others?  Why are we surprised when we experience God’s forgiveness only in the same measure by which we extend forgiveness to others?  Why do we ask God to meet all of our needs, yet we only meet the needs of those we’ve deemed “worthy,” or “good,” or “legal”?

The whole world is watching us as God knocks at our doors, pleading with us to care for the stranger.  Will we continue to hunker down in imagined safety, pleading with God to keep the rest of the world’s needs at bay?  Will we continue to claim that we simply do not have the resources to do what is right?  Will we continue to close our doors to the Kingdom of God, refusing to let it into our lives today – just as it is in heaven?

Sometimes, when I think back that fine, late summer day when the Boy Scouts came knocking on our door, I wonder if I made the wrong choice.  Honestly, I know I did.

I trust that if Jesus actually lived in my house (or in my heart) all the time (instead of only the times when it’s most convenient and expedient for me), he would have answered the door.  And if he’d had the cash or a checkbook available, he’d have bought a bit of popcorn, to boot.  But even if he hadn’t, he’d have welcomed the people at the door and treated them like they were part of his community – because they are, whether they live in the neighborhood or not.

I think that if I fully realized who Jesus is, I would have known that in answering the door, I was welcoming him.

And I guess that’s the lesson in the Lord’s Prayer for me – I need to stop hiding behind the counter, thinking about what it means to follow Jesus, and debating with others who is truly deserving of the love of God.  I need to stop hiding and start living.  And frankly, that takes work.  The work of loving the world, of living the kingdom of God on earth, of providing for the needs of the whole human family – regardless of whether or not we deem them worthy – is work worth doing – and I hope you’ll join me in doing it.

Amen.