Böcker av Eli Landrum

The writer of Ecclesiastes noted that "there is no end to the making of many books" (Ecclesiastes 12:12).[1] His observation certainly applies to books on prayer. Why, then, another book that explores the prayer-pattern Jesus gave His early followers? That is a good question. After all, countless books have been written on the subject. Furthermore, vast numbers of sermons have been delivered based on the texts, and myriads of Sunday School lessons have examined the prayer. It has been put to music, and many of us are moved by its beauty. To undertake to write another book that explores the brief accounts may seem presumptuous, even somewhat arrogant. I do not presume to be a New Testament scholar, and I do not claim insights no one else has received. In fact, most of my understanding of Jesus' words come from insights teachers, preachers, and writers have expressed. I have undertaken to write out of a personal interest in and fascination with Jesus' teaching that is preserved for us in the Gospels of Matthew and Luke.I long have been convinced that the title "the Lord's Prayer" is a misnomer. Most of those who use the title may well mean the prayer the Lord gave His followers. Some may take it to mean a prayer Jesus prayed and shared with His disciples. Yet the petition for forgiveness is evidence to me that Jesus did not pray the prayer but intended it to be a pattern used by His followers. He had no sin for which He needed forgiveness; we are sinners and constantly need God's mercy. I believe the best title for Jesus' outline is "the Model Prayer." To me, it is a pattern or framework-a guide to authentic and productive prayer.

The beatitudes are not mild, pious platitudes without strength or deep meaning; they form a challenge hurled into the teeth of normal world standards. The first three Beatitudes are the "great reversals" of Jesus; heaven's standards are seen to be the direct opposite of earth's. God's evaluation of people is shown to be far different from humans' assessment. The continuing profile of the member of God's kingdom reveals character fashioned by God's measurements, not by people's standards.I am convinced that believers need to revisit the Beatitudes from time-to-time to maintain the creative tension they present for Christian living in our progressively secular and permissive society. In a time marked by sharp moral and ethical indifference and decline, kingdom citizens are to represent their King well and unashamedly. I have not fully achieved that goal, but with God's help, I will remain on the way.

Life has exhilarating moments when the spirit soars and the heart sings out of pure, unrestrained joy. A person experiences such elation, peace, and satisfaction that music¿or at least some semblance of melody¿seems to be the only appropriate response. So, in monotone, on perfect pitch, or somewhere in between, the soul sings its happy expressions of praise, gratitude, and sheer celebration of life that, for the moment, is good. Often, spontaneous songs that well up from life's depths are addressed to God in answer to His grace and goodness. Conversely, life also has dark moments when the heart cannot sing. The spirit can produce no melody; and the words of song cannot get around, over, or under a large lump in the throat. Life inspires no rhymes. A long night of the soul settles in and presses down on life with its inky, suffocating darkness. In a blackness almost physical in denseness, no song comes to lips drawn tight by anxiety's strain and by tension's taut pull. An individual has come to the point where God gives no song in the night; in fact, God seems to be absent or, at best, the great, silent Spectator. As I write, scattered across my denomination's landscape are pastors in various stages of pilgrimages of pain. They struggle through a seemingly endless night with no song to sing. They comprise a society of sufferers, bound together in a brotherhood by the burden they bear. These pastors are facing increasing pressure to resign immediately or by a set date, regardless of whether they have a place to go. Some have been told they are being terminated. Their churches¿or groups of leaders who hold the power¿have decided and decreed that the pastors' tenures have come to a screeching halt. Often, the verdicts are delivered in the name of the Lord, piously phrased in self-assured religious dialect. The pastoral victims' names are legion. Many laypeople would be shocked to know the number of pastors who face termination each week across the Southern Baptist Convention. People genuinely concerned about ministerial leaders would be dismayed at some churches' treatment of pastors. How many pastors per day fall in the religious arena? People in the pews would be surprised. According to statistics supplied by the Church Administration Department of the (then) Baptist Sunday School Board, a survey revealed that in 1984, 1,056 pastors had been terminated, a rate of 88 each month. In 1988, a similar survey showed that 1,392 pastors annually were terminated, about 116 pastors each month¿ almost four pastors a day and an increase of 28 per month from the 1984 survey. Again, according to compiled statistics, in 54 percent of the cases involving serious church conflicts, the pastor left or had to leave. In 1999, 72,000 pastors and clergy were fired across America for various reasons. In some cases, the pastors were partially at fault; but in others, they were not at fault. Yet they and their families were pinked-slipped and shown the door.

After a long span of time, I still remember the gist of the story. I read it in the Sunday School quarterly my church provided for boys in my age group. In the story, a young boy came downstairs dressed to go to church services with other family members. This Sunday, however, he was not wearing his usual dress clothes. Instead, he had on casual or everyday clothes, which in my boyhood would have been overalls or blue jeans, a shirt he wore for work or play, and everyday shoes-clod-hoppers, as we called them. His father objected to the boy's attire and told him to go back to his room and put on his Sunday best. The boy explained his reason for what he had chosen to wear. He had invited a friend to attend church with him, but the friend's family was poor and the friend had no Sunday clothes to wear to church. He would feel out of place and ashamed to go to church in the clothes he had. The boy told his father that to put his friend at ease, he would dress as the friend did and accompany him to Sunday School and worship. All these years, I have remembered the lessons of that story, even if I often have failed to practice them: True friendship involves caring, sensitivity, and a willingness to put another's feelings first; concern for another person's spiritual welfare will accommodate itself to that person's needs. A simple story made a lasting impression on me.Most of us can recall stories that remain meaningful to us, for almost everyone likes a good story. Somewhere, individuals may exist who do not have time for or appreciate stories no matter how gripping, moving, entertaining, or educational they may be. My guess is that such people are few. From childhood, most of us have been drawn to stories, written and oral. Today, we appreciate good stories skilled storytellers tell or write. Good storytellers can make mediocre stories come alive; inept storytellers can butcher excellent stories. Talented storytellers can enable us to experience dramatic stories that are memorable, enriching, and enduring.