Oct 4-6 Column

Don't Talk About God Behind his Back

 

Last Sunday, I admitted to my congregation that I sometimes, feel like the man who had had enough with life's difficulties, so he went to live in a monastery.

 

The abbot restricted the man's spoken words to only two words every year.  

 

After his first year, he reported to the abbot to share his first two words – "Bed hard."  

 

On his second annual opportunity, he pronounced, "Food bad."  

 

Finally, on his third year, he came to the abbot's office to proclaim, "I quit."  

 

"I'm not surprised," said the abbot. "You've done nothing but complain since the day you arrived."  

 

Well, I don't want you to think I complain too much, but I once spent a few days fretting over lost keys, car repairs and my daughter's somewhat risky international travel to Honduras.

 

On those occasions, "Mrs. Chaplain," (that's what I call her when she's not around) asked, "Have you prayed about it?" 

 

"At this point," I said, "honestly, my prayers would sound more like complaining."  

 

"What's wrong with that?" she asked.  

 

I took a few minutes to think about her challenge when I remembered a guy who did a fair bit of complaining himself: Moses.  

 

You remember Moses. He's the one who bugged, literally bugged, the Egyptian Pharoh to free the Jewish people from slavery. Once the people were liberated, Moses ran his egress route through the oppressive heat of the Sinai Desert.

 

The people quickly forgot their wonderful freedom and started whining about the lack of good Chinese takeout. (OK, maybe they weren't that picky, but they were a bit famished. Read the complete story in Numbers 11.)

 

So Moses, also resenting his situation, asked God, "Why are you treating me this way? What did I ever to do to deserve this? Where am I supposed to get meat for all these people?"

 

He continued. "If this is how you intend to treat me, do me a favor and kill me. I've had enough."  

 

Just an observation here – I don't recommend daring God to kill you; it's not a prayer for the faint of heart.  

 

Nevertheless, God threw down a challenge of his own and said to Moses, "Gather together 70 men from among the leaders of Israel, men whom you know to be respected and responsible. . . (and) you won't have to carry the whole thing alone."  

 

In the end, Moses wasn't struck dead for his audacious request. Quite the opposite. God answered the prayer – providing a little help from Moses' friends.  

 

Now, I don't pretend to know how prayer works, but I think Moses' prayer was effective for two reasons.  

 

First, the prayer was simple and direct. 

 

It wasn't a flowery prayer packed with analogies, metaphors or obtuse tangents. 

 

God likes direct words. (He also dislikes dictionary words like "obtuse.")

 

Whenever I encounter someone complaining about their raw deal, I've always told them: Stop gossiping about God. Talk to God directly, not behind his back.  

 

Go right up to God (wherever you talk to God) and say, "Hey, God! My life stinks!"  

 

Then turn it into the prayers Anne Lamott describes in her book, "Traveling Mercies." 

 

"Here are the two best prayers I know: 'Help me, help me, help me' and 'Thank you, thank you, thank you.'"  

 

Moses' simple prayer worked because God heard the heart of the prayer — honesty.  

 

In the midst of the griping, God heard a confession known by anyone in a 12-step recovery process. 

 

It's a prayer that has various wordings, but the gist is, "I'm powerless to do anything by myself. I need help." 

 

It was the same kind of prayer my wife was challenging me to pray. 

 

A little later, she asked, "Find your keys yet?"  

 

"No, but I think God's given me a plan to find them."  

 

"Really?" 

 

"Yeah. How do you feel about having 70 readers come over and help me look for my keys?"  

 

"Really? After 23 years of column writing, do you still claim to have at least 70 readers?"  

 

I think I'll start calling her "Mrs. Moses."  

 

Just not to her face.  

 

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