Nola's Knees

The following is excerpt from post written by Frank G. Honeycutt, from Living Lutheran. To read the article in its entirety go to: HERE.

Nola was a member of one of my parishes in South Carolina. On any weekday afternoon at her residential care facility, you could press the button for the second floor, step out into the lobby and find her sitting in a chair facing the elevator, as if she’d been expecting you.

Nola brought up prayer that day, and we talked about how important it is in the life of a disciple, how vital it was in her own life. “Nola,” I asked, “didn’t you once tell me that you prayed an hour per day, on your knees, at the foot of your bed?”

Without batting an eye, this woman who’d lived for more than a century started rolling up the legs of her pants—one side, then the other—to reveal calloused knees. Knees that knew prayer and its power. There wasn’t a hint of pride in this act. Prayer was simply so much a part of Nola’s life that here was God’s mark upon her—prayer completely embedded in her identity, her person, her body.

Jesus often withdraws from his active life of ministry to go and pray somewhere. Sometimes people (even the disciples) won’t leave him alone long enough and he has to hide. “In the morning, while it was still very dark, he got up and went out to a deserted place, and there he prayed. And Simon and his companions hunted for him” (Mark 1:35-36).

His prayer in John 17 is the longest we have in any of the Gospels. Jesus prays here in a fashion that resembles a stone thrown into a pond—the concentric circles from the original ripple keep spreading.

First, Jesus prays for himself, giving thanks for his mission and ministry. It’s OK to pray for yourself, by the way. I need all the guidance I can get to avoid bad decisions and manage the fallout after making one anyway. “It’s me, it’s me, O Lord, standing in the need of prayer!” It’s me!

Second, Jesus prays for his disciples. He could pray for any of the issues facing his community or world, and those would be legitimate and needed in any era. But Jesus prays instead for his disciples, the people who will lead the early church. “Holy Father, protect them in your name that you have given me, so that they may be one, as we are one” (17:11). Seeming to anticipate their future conflicts, he prays for the unity of the early church.

Third, Jesus prays for Christians like us—“those who will believe in me” (17:20, italics mine). Don’t miss this! Peering into the future a couple millennia, he sees a band of Lutherans and intercedes on our behalf. He prays for the body of Christ in all its diversity of expression.

This chapter-long prayer is remarkable as a stand-alone example of faithful intercession. In context, however, it’s even more noteworthy. Immediately after it concludes, soldiers arrive to arrest Jesus (18:1-11), as if Jesus could hear their galloping approach as he prayed. I don’t know about you, but if a band of soldiers bent on arresting me was heading my way, I might not be praying. I’d probably be running....