Luke 11:1–13
By the time you read this, I’ll be nearly done getting ready to preach my last sermon as your pastor. That’s still a strange sentence to type.
I’ve found it fitting—and strangely comforting—that the final passage we’ll share together is one where Jesus teaches His disciples how to pray. Not how to preach. Not how to run a church. Not how to grow a crowd.
But how to pray.
Because in the end, it’s not the programs or the personality that matter most. It’s the connection we have to our Father.
And yet… let’s be honest: prayer can be difficult, can’t it?
Even for pastors.
Especially for pastors.
There are seasons when prayer feels like throwing words into the wind, seasons when answers seem delayed or denied, and times when even the Lord’s Prayer becomes more of a routine than a relationship.
Jesus knew this.
That’s why He gave us more than instruction—He gave us permission. Permission to be bold. To be persistent. To speak not to a silent sky, but to a Good Father who listens, loves, and gives far better than we know how to ask.
In Luke 11, Jesus doesn’t just teach a method. He invites us into a mindset: childlike confidence in the generosity of God. He gives us a framework (the Lord’s Prayer), a story (the midnight friend), and a promise (ask, seek, knock). He assures us that our heavenly Father isn’t stingy. He delights to give His Spirit. Himself.
This, I believe, is what our congregation needs more than anything—not just in this moment of pastoral transition, but in every season that lies ahead.
We don’t need better slogans. We don’t need fancier strategies. We need prayer.
Not performative prayer, but personal prayer. Persistent prayer. Prayer that seeks the kingdom of God before it seeks comfort. Prayer that confesses, “Lord, I’m not sure I know what I’m doing,” and dares to believe He hears and responds.
And so this Sunday, my final one with you, I’ll be praying exactly that. Not because I have the perfect words—but because I trust the One who listens.
It’s not lost on me that transitions like this stir up all kinds of emotions. Gratitude, sadness, curiosity, frustration, maybe even uncertainty. If you’ve been with us for a while, you know I don’t believe in tying a big bow around complicated seasons.
But I do believe in Jesus.
And I do believe that He’s not only heard the prayers you’ve offered through the years—He’s still listening.
So here’s what I’ll be praying for you:
- That the Word of Christ would dwell richly among you.
- That prayer would become your native language as a church—not just before meals or meetings, but in hallways, homes, and hospital rooms.
- That you’d ask boldly, seek relentlessly, and knock with confidence—not because of who you are, but because of who He is.
- That your next season would be shaped not by nostalgia for what was, but by hope for what God still intends to do through you.
If prayer has grown cold for you, this is a good time to start again.
Start with the Lord’s Prayer. Expand each line in your own words. Set a time and place. Take an object, like a small rock, to hold and focus on as you pray. Be honest. Be messy. Be expectant.
Jesus didn’t teach prayer to create guilt. He taught it to create connection. And more than successful churches or happy church members, Jesus desires connection with us.
And if my final Sunday can help reconnect you to the Father who gives far more than we ask—well, that’s more than enough for me.
With gratitude and confidence in Christ,
—Pastor Mark
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