Homilies
Call on the Lord
Holy Spirit take my words and speak to each of us according to our need.
There are some verses in Scripture that just jump out at you. When I was reading the scriptures for today and preparing this sermon, I fully expected to be preaching on the Gospel but then one verse from the Psalm struck me. Psalm 145:18 “The LORD is near to all who call on him, to all who call on him in truth.”
It is a comforting promise. But for me, it also raised some questions. What does it mean to call on God in truth? What happens if we get that bit wrong? And, if God is near, why does the world so often feel so distant and at odds?
If we look at the world today, there is much that causes fear and uncertainty. We see wars and conflicts, people driven from their homes, famine and poverty, violence and crime, the impact of climate change, and an unspoken anxiety about the future.
Psalm 145 does not tell us though that God is near only when life is peaceful. Neither does it say that God is near to those with perfect understanding. It says: “The LORD is near to all who call on him.” Most people would emphasise the word ‘all’ but I believe that the word “call” is equally important. To call on God is much more than simply saying prayers.
In Scripture, calling on God means turning towards God, away from things that draw us away, acknowledging our need for and dependence on him, and bringing our whole selves before him, even the bits we would rather hide.
Sometimes we imagine that faithful prayer is calm, confident and certain. We imagine that good Christians pray the right words and always know what they believe. Which can lead to us feeling that we are not enough or have somehow failed
But when we look at Scripture, we discover something very different. The Bible is full of imperfect prayers. Moses, overwhelmed by the responsibility God had given him, cried out: “Why have you brought this trouble on your servant?” Job, in the depths of his suffering, asked: “Where are you, God?” The psalmists repeatedly cried: “How long, O Lord?” And Jesus himself, on the cross, cried: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
These are not failures of faith. They are expressions of relationship. They are people bringing the reality of their lives honestly before God.
Sometimes the most faithful prayer is not: “God, everything is wonderful.” Sometimes it is: “God, I don’t understand.” “God, I am frightened.” “God, I am angry.” “God, I need you.”
Calling on God begins with honesty. And that brings us to the second part of the verse: “Call on him in truth.” What does it mean to call on God in truth?
Well, it means that we do not pretend before God. God does not need our polished prayers. Sometimes we can think that prayer is about finding the right words, having the right emotions, or presenting ourselves as the kind of people we think God wants us to be. But God already knows the truth of our hearts.
We cannot hide from God. But that is not something to fear. It can set us free. Because if God already knows us completely, then we do not need to perform for him. We can come as we are.
To pray in truth is to say: “Lord, this is who I am today.” “Lord, this is what I am carrying.” “Lord, I am struggling.” “Lord, I believe; help my unbelief.”
The mistake we risk in not bringing our doubts, our fears, our anger, or our confusion to God is in thinking we have to hide them.
But calling on God in truth also means calling on God with sincerity and integrity. The Hebrew word for truth, ‘emet’, carries the idea of faithfulness, reliability and sincerity. It reminds us that prayer is not about using God as a kind of spiritual emergency service.
We can fall into the habit of calling on God only when we need something: “God, fix this.” “God, make this happen.” “God, remove this difficulty.” And there is nothing ultimately wrong with bringing our needs to God. Jesus himself taught us to pray, “Give us this day our daily bread.” God welcomes our needs.
But prayer is not about controlling God. Prayer is about opening ourselves to God. The question should be not only: “God, will you change my circumstances?” but also: “God, will you change me within my circumstances?” or “God, how are you shaping me through this?”
One of the questions I posed at the beginning still remains - Can we call on God sincerely, but still get it wrong?
Well I believe we can. Because sometimes our understanding of God needs to be transformed.
Throughout Scripture, there have been people who have misunderstood God. The disciples expected Jesus to bring political power and overthrow Rome. They wanted the Messiah to be someone who would defeat their enemies. The Pharisees believed they were defending God, but struggled to recognise God standing in front of them in the person of Jesus.
Sometimes we call upon a God we have created rather than the God revealed to us in Jesus. That may be a God who rewards success, one who always agrees with us.
But calling on God in truth means allowing God to be revealed to us. And God is always bigger, kinder and more compassionate than we imagine. This is particularly important in a world where there is so much division. We can be tempted to believe that God is only on our side.
But the truth of the gospel is far more challenging: God is on their side too. The person we disagree with. The person whose experience is different from ours. The person we struggle to understand.
God’s love is not limited to our boundaries. God’s compassion is not restricted to our group. The God who promises to be near is the God who calls all people towards himself.
So what happens when we get it wrong? What happens when our faith feels weak? What happens when our prayers are confused? What happens when we are not even sure what we believe?
The answer of Psalm 145 is grace. “The LORD is near to all who call on him.” Every prayer we offer is imperfect. Even our best prayers are shaped by our limited understanding.
A child asking a parent for something may not fully understand what they need but the parent still listens, because the parent hears the heart behind the words.
God is not grading our prayers. God is receiving our hearts. God understands.
This is why the Eucharist is such a powerful expression of this promise. At the table, we remember that God does not remain distant from us. God comes near. We do not come because our faith is perfect. We do not come because we have everything worked out. We come because Christ invites us.
We bring our joys and our sorrows. We bring our confidence and our doubts. We bring our whole selves. And in bread and wine, Christ meets us with grace.
The Eucharist reminds us that God does not wait for us to become worthy before drawing near. God comes to us in our imperfection and our weakness. God comes to us when all we can manage is a simple cry:
So perhaps today, if you are wondering whether you can really call on God, remember this: God is not waiting for perfect prayers. God is not waiting for perfect faith. God is waiting for honesty.
Bring God your questions. Bring God your fears. Bring God your doubts. Bring God your hopes.
Because the God we meet in Jesus is not a distant God waiting for us to find the right words. He is the God who has already come near.
“The LORD is near to all who call on him, to all who call on him in truth.”