The Other Prayer Jesus Taught

Luke 18:13

Jesus commended only two prayers to his followers during his ministry—the Lord’s Prayer and the prayer of the tax collector in his parable contrasting the prayers of the tax man with those of a Pharisee. Many people use the Lord’s Prayer on a daily basis as the foundation for their walk with God, but the tax collector’s prayer is one we might avoid because of its darker implications about us and our place within the world. As Presbyterians, it forms the basis for one of our worship practices—the use of a prayer of confession to open nearly every worship service we hold, but even that practice leads to critiques that we are emphasizing only the negative. But I offer another approach, one that you will find in Barbara Brown Taylor’s (a TIME magazine 100 most influential persons in their recent issue) newest book, Learning to Walk in Darkness—instead of shying away from the shadowed sides of our existence, we should instead fully enter them, for it is in those recesses of our lives that God dwells in intimate presence.

Let’s begin with the prayer itself—

Lord, have mercy on me, a sinner.

That’s all there is to it—a seven word utterance. 

However, brevity is clarity.

First, there is the simple acknowledgement of God. That opening “Lord” is a salutation that puts us where we need to be—all things start with God; all things come from God—so begin with God in all things. The most effective prayers are not really about us—they are about seeking the ineffable presence of God in every moment that we have. They are not about wowing God with our poetic grasp of language or the profundity of our theology; they are about being wowed by the glory of God who orders all of life. It is also a clear statement of who holds the reigns. God is the only real power we will ever know, so we submit to God, giving ourselves over to God’s direction and counsel. 

Which leads directly to the next phrase—“have mercy.” We need help with life, with its puzzles, conundrums, questions, and temptations. We need help dealing with all those other human beings all around us every moment of our lives. We need help dealing with ourselves nearly every moment of our existence. I repeat a treasured truism—if there is more than one person in a room, there will be conflict, and the second person is not always necessary. We get tangled in life. We get caught in webs and nets of our own making as we seek to cover this or overcome that or meddle here or intervene there. A spider is a fearsome hunter because she does nothing. She spins her web and then waits. She knows passing moths or flies will do her work for her. They will get tangled in the web, then in their struggle to free themselves, they will only make the web more effective. She waits and watches. Lunch will come. God also waits and watches, but not to devour or destroy us, but to redeem us. God knows there will come a moment when, like the Prodigal Son, we will “come to our senses” (Lk. 15:17)—God waits for us to awaken to ourselves, and that awakening is sure and certain as soon as someone utters, “Lord, have mercy”—someone needs help, and, more importantly, they know they need help. Be aware, though, this move is completely counterintuitive in our time and place—asking for help is defined as weakness, needing intervention is termed failure, and actually voicing such a need is humiliation. Ignore conventional wisdom and stick with God’s counsel—ask for help, seek mercy—astounding strength will follow.

And we meet the final phrase—“on me, a sinner.” There it is—the dark, central admission. What I find so incredibly powerful in this phrase is its inherent minimalism. There are no qualifications, exceptions, excuses, or addenda—here I am, Lord—as I am, for what I am, in who I am. Now God can get to work. God can begin mending, repairing, and reclaiming us from all the mess we are in. God has room to work. We lose ourselves to find ourselves. We empty ourselves to allow God to fill us. We open ourselves to becoming the creatures God meant for us to be. We walk with God in righteousness as God would define righteousness—no “self” tacked onto the front—just a walk with God. 

What a treasure trove in seven simple words!