I tell you, even though he will not get up and give you the bread because of friendship, yet because of your shameless audacity he will surely get up and give you as much as you need.
Luke 11:8 (NIV)
Like most people, almost everything I was taught about God, church, and worship was all about propriety.
Sit still.
Be quiet.
Fold your hands.
Bow your head.
Dress nice.
Take off your hat.
The problem with this is that God’s description of worship is not that.
“Clap your hands, all you nations; shout to God with cries of joy.” (Psalm 47:1)
“Shout for joy to God, all the earth…” (Psalm 66:1–2)
“…let us shout aloud to the Rock of our salvation.” (Psalm 95:1–2)
“Let them praise his name with dancing…” (Psalm 149:3)
“Praise him with timbrel and dancing…” (Psalm 150:4)
This past Sunday, I yelled in church. More than once. I shouted out praise.
People were uncomfortable. I did it anyway. It wasn’t about them.
The further I progress in my journey, the more I have come to embrace just how significantly His ways are not our ways. Which means if I’m going to do things God’s way, I’m going to have to break out of my comfort zone.
And then there’s prayer.
In today’s chapter, right after teaching His disciples the “Lord’s Prayer,” Jesus tells one of His strangest parables. It’s one of those you rarely hear taught because, it’s uncomfortable.
A man shows up at his neighbor’s door at midnight after everyone is asleep. He needs to borrow some bread for unexpected guests. The woken neighbor tries to beg off, but the man will not stop pounding and begging until the neighbor finally relents and gives the man bread to shut him up.
Jesus says the man had “shameless audacity.” But this is another case of the original Greek word not having a good English equivalent.
The Greek word is anaideia. It is literally translated “without shame,” but here’s the twist… in Greek culture, anaideia is almost always negative.
It’s not polite boldness.
It’s not admirable persistence.
It leans more toward:
The person who keeps knocking when everyone else would slink away.
Brazen nerve.
Thick-skinned insistence.
A refusal to be embarrassed.
Jesus is essentially saying: “This guy gets what he needs not because he’s polite, but because he refuses to feel shame about asking.”
That feels like yelling out loud in church.
In a culture built on honor and shame, this is almost scandalous. The man at the door is violating social norms:
It’s midnight
The household is asleep
The request is inconvenient
And yet… he just keeps knocking.
Not a gentle tap.
Not a “sorry to bother you.”
This is persistent, socially inappropriate, borderline annoying knocking.
And Jesus says:
That’s the posture that moves the door.
And in the quiet this morning, that makes me extremely uncomfortable. Shame has always been my native language. It seeps out of me as pessimism. I was taught to be timid in asking for things.
“Be content with what you have.”
“Take what you’re given and be happy.”
“Don’t ask for too much, it’s rude.”
“You don’t deserve it anyway, so just don’t ask.”
“Don’t expect too much, you’re probably not going to get it anyway.”
Jesus paints a picture of prayer that feels almost… scandalous:
Not polished.
Not proper.
Not carefully worded.
But:
Bold
Relentless
Unembarrassed
The kind of prayer that says:
“I know it’s late.”
“I know this is inconvenient.”
“I know I’ve already asked.”
“But I’m still here. Still Knocking. Not going away.”
Heaven’s door doesn’t open for the well-mannered.
It opens for the ones who won’t stop knocking.
For me, there’s something quietly intoxicating about this.
A permission slip… to be a little undignified with God.
To knock like you mean it.
It’s like shouting in church.
Undignified.
Uncomfortable.
And exactly the point.
If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.
