From now until Advent, the scripture lessons are very troubling. If you read the Old Testament lessons with any expectation that they have something to say to us, the end of the world seems closer than the coming election. The gospel lessons are parables Jesus tells because his disciples have asked how to be his followers, and the faith models he gives are “snarky,” questionable and downright creepy. So, welcome to worship!

Hang onto that word of hope from Jeremiah today. It’s the last hope for a long time, and even that word has its “yes” and its “no.” The word is, “You’ll pay for your own sins,” apparently good news because the heart covenant will get us out of the old bad habits we got from our parents. Most of my construction career was spent fixing other people’s mistakes. A building leaked, the brick failed—I pulled together a plan and the resources to fix it. The good news about this challenging problem-solving was that at least I was solving someone else’s mistakes. I thought it would be a bigger relief when I built from the ground up, because I wouldn’t be making those mistakes. Not those. The bad news was I was now free to make my own.

That from Jeremiah is the “hope” we carry into a story about a troublesome saint who appears to model nagging. These days, we are careful not to characterize persistent females as “nags,” but that’s what she looks like in today’s parable. The judge sees her as a pest. Is this what Jesus wants us to understand to be “effective prayer”?

Sometimes people ask me to pray on their behalf. I wonder if it’s because they think I’m a religious professional, and my prayers count for more with God, or if they think I learned more effective prayer techniques at seminary. I remember being in the Baptist Sunday School and hearing a missionary tell about the tragic practice of pagan prayer wheels, that practice of writing prayers on pieces of paper, placing them in wheels to twirl as long as one’s wrist holds up. The idea was that the spinning of the wheel was one’s prayer. We felt sorry for the primitive pagans who practiced those prayers. But how different is that from our near-continual whining and begging to God? As if we might overcome God’s resistance by the sheer volume of our request, the prayer equivalent of blanketing the area with “Have you seen this child?” posters—photocopying our prayers, stapling them to utility poles and bulletin boards. When I was in a twelve-step group, this was called obsessing. Going over the same situation in your mind—setting it up, playing through all the possibilities, wheedling and bargaining with God, reworking scenarios, thinking up what others ought to say and do, plowing the same ground over and over. “God, make it come out differently this time!” Is this “persistent” prayer?

Nagging is not what this parable is about. Luke says this is about the need to not get discouraged, and Jesus tells us why. He interprets his own parable. The “moral” at the end isn’t, “Do what this widow does and God will answer your prayers.” Jesus’ summary is about the judge. This is a “not” story. We are to understand that the world is like the unjust judge, God is not. What prompted this parable was not “How do I pray correctly?” Jesus is talking to disciples who have just asked, “How can we be faithful?” Luke lets us know he has put this parable here because it’s about “their need to pray always and not to lose heart.” That’s faith. “Not to lose heart.” This parable is not “pray right and you’ll get what you want.” If even the corrupt world (the unjust judge) gives in to persistence, you can stake your life that God-who-loves-you-more-than-you-can-imagine is also God-who-only-wants-the-best-for-you. The call of discipleship is to prayer, not to be “successful.” Discipleship is about relationship, that thing Jeremiah wrote—the covenant written on our hearts.

Perhaps you have seen the movie, Bruce the Almighty. It’s about a guy who is so frustrated by God’s seeming inattention to his prayers that he figures he can do a better job than God. So God lets Bruce take over. At first Bruce is delighted with being able to do the magic tricks he needs to get his way. But about the time he discovers there really are other people in the world, he discovers God’s computer, a high tech method for handling our communications. Bruce the Almighty is supposed to be handling the inbox for God’s email account, which has become overloaded while he solves only his own problems. What if prayer were like God’s email inbox? We could write just one prayer and click-to-send every day. We could have a generic prayer and click “send” every morning before work. Or for more urgent requests, re-send every hour. Or have a prayer template with boilerplate to fill in for more specific requests. Virtual prayer—no paper, no stapling to utility poles, no filing. It’s perfect for those on-the-go lifestyles.

That strategy doesn’t work with the painful lesson I just learned about generosity. I have a lot more respect for God now. Like many parents, I love to be generous to my kids. I enjoy surprising and delighting them with gifts, but due to the natural effects of aging, my children have turned into adults, which means how I am generous with them has had to change. It’s not “what” to give, it’s “how” to give. This is relationship. Geography has deprived us of daily contact, so when I give them what I think they need without interacting, my generosity appears controlling. My mother used to give me clothes, but we lived close enough that we could shop together. The gift-giving was more about the event, the time together, than what Mom actually ended up giving me. A sweater became time together and laughter and sharing each other’s lives. When that event-type experience is not possible, a box of clothes can appear to be saying, “I think you need to wear this.” From the recipient’s point of view, without relationship, the gift can take on the appearance of coercion. From the giver’s point of view, the gift can look like bribery—“Look what I gave you! You should love me and thank me.”

This might be what God experiences when we are not persistent in prayer. The persistence in prayer Jesus recommends isn’t about nagging. It’s not about prayer wheels or posters blanketing the town or the ease and convenience of click-to-send. Prayer is not filling God’s inbox so that out of sheer desperation God is forced to pay attention to us. Persistence in prayer is about trusting the One to whom we pray. Persistence in prayer is about the kind of relationship that is open to God. Sort of like my shopping for clothes with my mom. “Is this what I should be asking for? Where would I use this? Does this look good on me? Is it what you wish to give me?”

When Jesus urges his disciples to persistence in prayer, he is asking them to actively show up, to stay in touch, to listen for God’s desires for us so that we can participate in bringing about the answers. Persistent prayer is empowering prayer. It’s that Jeremiah thing—relationship that is written in our hearts. The point isn’t “getting what you want.” The persistent and nagging widow didn’t passively wait for whatever justice might come her way. She had no reason to believe the judge would listen to her and answer her request. But we do. Passively taking whatever comes our way is not empowered prayer. We get to ask for what we want. We also get to listen for what God wants to give. The One to whom we address our prayers hears us, and in hearing, answers. Even more than a human parent, God is dying to be generous with us. But gifts without relationship are bribery, and God is not satisfied with those terms. Nor should we be satisfied with those terms, either.