So it’s the middle of the night
How successful would we be if we went around to our neighbors banging on their door asking for 3 loaves of bread?
It’s 130 AM.
Actually just pounding on someone’s door in the middle of the night is not a real sane method of getting a hand out.
I’m sure it might become a grievance committee issue.
Then rules & regs would have to convene.
This is worse then your dog pooping in the neighbors yard.
Not a socially gracious, positive when your trying to survive in a hair trigger
environment fired up by bitter old cranks.
But here we have Jesus endorsing this as good methodology for receiving answers
So we knock!
And we yell!
Neighbor, be a friend & give us three loaves of bread.
We need it.
We’re out of bread!
We hear the answers,
I’m in bed, ‘Don’t bother me.
Your acting weird & freaky.
My door’s locked;
We’re sleeping. Get out of here!
Obviously, the police might get called.
We look like We’re acting like we’re off our meds
Now Jesus has some odd advice here
stand your ground,
Keep pounding, keep knocking, keep yelling!
waking all the neighbors! Huh,
They’ll finally get up & get you whatever you need.
Ask & you’ll get;
Seek & you’ll find;
Knock & the door will open.…
I love the paradoxes of Scripture
The Word of God is bulging with paradox
G.K. Chesterton, noted that a paradox is
“truth standing on its head to gain attention.”
He added, sometimes, not only is the truth on it’s head but it’s waving it’s legs
This is unusual wisdom. Because we live in an upside-down kingdom,
biblical paradoxes explain how something seemingly on its head is actually right-side up.
There’s a minister named John Day who pastored in Bellevue, Wa. He wrote an intriguing
First sermon called the paradoxical Beatitudes.
Paradoxical blessings are “mind-expanding & life-transforming” experience.
Our Lord wants us to employ prayer persistence
Be indefatigable, tireless & even stubborn
There’s nothing like Brother Square-Toes’—Rewards & Fairies BY RUDYARD KIPLING
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!