And he said to them, Who among you shall have a friend, and shall go to him at midnight and say to him, Friend, let me have three loaves,
The disciples had just asked to be taught how to pray. The Lord answers with a scene: a man at a friend's door at midnight, asking for bread. Two hard questions follow. Why keep asking a God who already knows? And does persistence really move Him?
The Lord argues for prayer from the way one person feels toward another.
Here the Lord presses prayer on us. He argues (as He often does in Luke) from what the human heart feels. That shows even more strongly what God feels when men are earnest with Him.
The request in the story is not vague. It names one thing, and the man sticks to it.
In the first place, it teaches us to be definite in our prayers. "Friend, lend me three loaves." There is a real need, felt and spoken out. One thing is before his mind and on his heart, and he keeps to that one thing. It is not a long, rambling, aimless statement about all sorts of things. It is clear, direct, and pointed — I want three loaves, I cannot do without them, I must have them, I have no other way to get them, the case is urgent, it is the middle of the night. Every circumstance makes the appeal definite and earnest.
Everything about the hour argues against asking. He asks anyway.
Midnight, of course, seems a very bad time to come. Everything looks discouraging. The friend has retired for the night, the door is shut, his children are with him in bed, he cannot rise. All this is very depressing. But he still presses his definite need: he must have the three loaves.
Two things matter here: the men are friends, and something more than friendship opens the door.
Suppose a man has a friend — not just a neighbour. An emergency comes, and at midnight he goes to ask him for three loaves of bread. Would that friend excuse himself from helping because it would disturb his own comfort? The Lord answered that friendship alone might not move the friend to help at that hour. Yet because of the man's persistence — his earnest insistence in asking — his friend will respond (v.8).
Persistence in prayer is not selfish. Because God is gracious, we may press Him for others as well as for ourselves.
If we have learnt that He is gracious, He wants us to act on that knowledge. He wants us to go to Him with expectancy and persistence — whether for the blessing of others (11:5-10) or for our own deliverance (18:1-7).
Commentators differ on what the man's persistence teaches about God. One says the gap between God and man must never stop us asking.
So the Lord shows us that we may keep on seeking. We may seek with persistence, as one needy man seeks from another. Someone may object, You are forgetting the difference between God and man. There is a difference, indeed. But we must not let it stop us from pouring out our full hearts to Him... Ask as if He would give in to sheer persistence. Cling to Him as Jacob clung, and say, "I will not let you go unless you bless me."
Another presses the contrast. The man at midnight had selfishness in him to overcome; God does not, so a delay must have another cause.
There is no reluctance in God. There is no selfishness to be overcome, as there was in the man at midnight. But there may be reasons to delay the answer. When it does come, it may come in a way you are hardly prepared for.
The lesson is meant to reshape how believers pray in company, not only alone.
We believe it would bring great earnestness, freshness, warmth, depth, reality, and power to our prayer-meetings if we came with something definite on our hearts, which we could invite our fellow believers to join us in. Some of us think we must make one long prayer about all sorts of things. Many of them are very right and very good, no doubt. But the mind gets lost in the number of subjects. How much better to bring one object before the throne, earnestly urge it, and pause, so that the Holy Spirit may lead out others in the same way.
- Empty — the man asks because he has nothing and cannot do without the loaves; prayer starts with an admitted lack.
- Definite — "three loaves" is the model. Name one urgent need, not a wandering list of good subjects.
- Late — midnight, a shut door, children in bed. Every circumstance says don't ask, and he asks anyway.
- Persistent — friendship alone did not move the sleeping friend. Persistence did. So cling like Jacob and refuse to let go.
- Unlike — commentators differ on how far the picture runs. One says to ask as if persistence itself wins. Another says God has no reluctance at all, so a delay has a better reason.
since a friend of mine on a journey is come to me, and I have nothing to set before him;
A man wakes his neighbour at midnight, and the reason is not his own hunger — a traveller has arrived and there is no food in the house. Everything turns on that: the need belongs to someone else, and the man asking has nothing to meet it.
In the prayer the Lord had just taught, "Give us" covers the asker's own need. This story moves a step further out, to a need that is not his own at all.
But this is not all. We may not stop at the supply of our own need; God encourages us to come to Him about others. The prayer "Give us" has been answered and my own need has been met. But the case of "a friend of mine" who "has arrived on a journey," along with my own poverty and inability to help him, presses heavily on my spirit. It stirs up earnestness, persistence, and steady prayer that does not give up.
The man is not weighing options. He has a demand on him and no way to meet it. That is what makes him refuse to leave.
He tells us that the man gets what he came for by sheer persistent earnestness. He will not be put off; he must get the three loaves. Persistence wins even where the claims of friendship fail. The man is set on his object; he has no alternative. There is a demand, and he has nothing to meet it — "I have nothing to set before my travelling friend." In short, he will not take no for an answer.
Notice how short the request is.
First, it teaches us to be definite in our prayers. "Friend, lend me three loaves." A real need is felt and put into words. One thing is before his mind and on his heart, and he keeps to that one thing. It is not a long, rambling, aimless statement about all sorts of things. It is clear, direct, and pointed — I want three loaves, I cannot do without them, I must have them, I am shut in, the case is urgent, the time of night. Every circumstance makes the appeal definite and earnest.
Behind the boldness lies a settled conviction. Two facts overrule everything that would hold a person back: he is my friend, and he has the bread.
In the man who went to his friend at midnight, the Lord pictures how prayer begins: with the sense that my friend has what I want. The question is not so much what the need is. I know my friend has what I want, and I know he is my friend. So I go to him to relieve my need, without counting up the various things that might get in the way. One thing is fixed in my mind — he has what I want, and I have nowhere else to get it. This is the first great sense of prayer: complete dependence on God, and His infinite ability to meet what I need.
The story uses a reluctant sleeper, but the point is contrast, not likeness.
It is not, blessed be God, that He will ever answer us "from within." He will never say to us, "Do not bother me. I cannot get up and give you anything." He is always our true and ready "Friend" — a cheerful, generous Giver who does not scold. All praise to His holy name!
Commentators differ on how much weight to put on persistence. Mackintosh stresses it. Bellett presses the contrast further and explains delay another way:
There is no reluctance in God. He has none of the selfishness that had to be overcome in the man at midnight. But there may be reasons to delay the answer, and when it does come, it may come in a way you are little prepared for.
The Lord argues from the lower case to the higher — if a grudging man gets up, what will God do?
And the Lord illustrates it even from man, evil as he is, and though the appeal comes at midnight, when the difficulties were greatest. Even then the need was urgent and there was nothing to meet it. And a mere man does not fail to get up and give — not for friendship's sake, sad to say, but because the asking would not stop. How much more should the believer count on God!
- The demand. A traveller arrives and there is nothing in the house. The prayer starts from someone else's need, not the asker's own.
- The emptiness. He has no alternative and no resource, and that is why he will not take no for an answer.
- The request. Three loaves — definite, brief, one thing named and held to.
- The confidence. He goes because his friend has what he lacks and he has nowhere else to get it.
- The contrast. The neighbour gives because the asking will not stop. God never says "do not bother me" — so how much more will He give?
and he within answering should say, Do not disturb me; the door is already shut, and my children are with me in bed; I cannot rise up to give [it] thee?
Late at night a man knocks on a friend's door. His cupboard is empty and a guest has arrived. The voice inside answers with reasons. Is this how God meets us when we come to Him in need?
The man's reasons are all about himself.
And what answer is sure to come back from the one who speaks "from within"? Just what you would expect. "Do not bother me." This man has withdrawn into the narrow circle of his own comfort and enjoyment. He has closed his door and drawn the curtains around him. He does not like to be "troubled" by anyone. Such a man is sure to say, even when someone appeals to him as a "friend," "I cannot get up." And why could he not get up? Because "the door is now shut, and my children are with me in bed." His reasons for not getting up were all selfish. And when he did get up, it was only from a selfish wish to avoid more trouble.
Friendship is named at the door, but friendship is not what opens it.
The time may seem as inconvenient as could be. A man may not listen for friendship's sake to the one who asks to borrow bread. Still, he would rather get up and give than open himself to trouble. Everyone knows this is how a man tends to act with a neighbour who is bold enough to press him. He may be deeply annoyed at the caller who keeps knocking. But to avoid the trouble of a continued appeal at his door, he gives in.
Can the man in bed stand for God? One writer answers by pointing to where the comparison breaks down.
Can we apply this to God? Not the motive, of course: God does not give to get rid of the person asking. Even so, the Lord goes on: "Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you."
God never answers like that man. Still, He encourages us to keep asking:
Thank God, He will never answer us "from within." He will never say to us, "Do not bother me" — "I cannot get up and give you anything." He is always our true and ready "Friend." He is a cheerful, generous Giver who does not scold. All praise to His holy name! Still, He encourages persistence, and we need to weigh His teaching.
If God is not reluctant, the delay must serve some other purpose. One writer reads the wait as God's timing rather than His unwillingness.
There is majesty in God's goodness, and yet He takes notice of all our needs, and we must wait for His will and pleasure. Suppose a child asks his father for something. The father says, "You must wait five minutes." Is the child to say, "No, I cannot; I must have it right now?" Meanwhile the waiting exercises faith, and breaks down the spirit in the sense of need. Look at Daniel, and see another thing. God gave him a deep sense of being identified with Himself in what he was doing; so He made him pray three weeks before he received what he asked for. This is a great privilege, because it means fellowship with God. There is a certainty that God will answer in blessing, even though He delays.
The man at the door asks for one thing and keeps to it.
It teaches us to be definite in our prayers. "Friend, lend me three loaves." He feels a real need and says it. One thing is before his mind and on his heart, and he limits himself to that one thing. It is not a long, rambling, aimless statement about all sorts of things. It is clear, direct, and pointed: I want three loaves. I cannot do without them. I must have them. I am stuck. The case is urgent.
The habit behind that shut door is ours too, and Christ is its complete opposite.
We do not like to be interrupted when we have withdrawn from the world around us into the narrow circle of our own personal or family enjoyment. We are all too ready, when a call comes, to send our answer "from within." How unlike all this was the blessed Lord Jesus Christ! His door was never shut. He never answered "from within." He always had a ready response to every needy person who came. He was so taken up with human need that He had no time to eat bread or take rest. He never complained about the constant interruption of needy humanity. He never said to any child of need or sorrow, "I cannot get up and give you anything." The door of His heart was always wide open.
- The door. "Do not bother me" is the sound of a heart closed for the night — every excuse true, every excuse about self.
- The contrast. God never speaks from behind that door. He does not give just to be rid of us.
- The delay. A closed door is His timing, not His unwillingness. Waiting exercises faith and brings fellowship with Him.
- The asking. Three loaves, named and repeated: definite need makes persistent prayer.
- The mirror. Christ's door was never shut. He never answered from within — ours is the door that closes.
-- I say to you, Although he will not get up and give [them] to him because he is his friend, because of his shamelessness, at any rate, he will rise and give him as many as he wants.
At midnight a man wakes his neighbour to ask for bread, and the neighbour gets up — not out of friendship, but to stop the knocking. The Lord turns this grudging giver into a lesson on prayer, so is God like him, or unlike him?
What moves the sleeper is not politeness. Where the ESV says "impudence", older translations say "importunity" — and one writer explains what that word really means:
By the illustration He uses, He encourages them to earnestness, and even "shamelessness" — which is what the word for "importunity" really means. He points to the gift of the Holy Spirit as the Father's purpose for those who ask Him.
Read that way, the man wins because he refuses to feel ashamed. One commentator describes the ordinary human transaction the Lord is drawing on:
The time may seem ever so inconvenient, but although a man may not listen for friendship's sake to the one asking for a loan of bread, he would rather get up and give than expose himself to trouble. Everyone knows this is how a man tends to act with a neighbour who is bold enough to press him. He might be thoroughly annoyed at the persistent caller, but to avoid the trouble of a continued appeal at his door, he gives in.
Before persistence comes precision. Notice how small and clear the man's request is:
In the first place, it teaches us to be definite in our prayers. "Friend, lend me three loaves." There is a real need felt and expressed; there is one thing before the mind and on the heart, and he keeps to that one thing. It is not a long, rambling, aimless statement about all sorts of things. It is clear, direct, and pointed — I want three loaves, I cannot do without them, I must have them, I have no other way, the case is urgent.
These two qualities go together. Vague praying does not press for an answer:
There is a sad lack of persistence in our prayer meetings. The lack of persistence matches the lack of definiteness. The two go very much together. Where the thing sought is as definite as the "three loaves," there will generally be the persistent asking for it, and the firm purpose to get it.
This is where the comparison gets uncomfortable. One writer refuses to smooth it over:
The devil uses many arguments against keeping up prayers that seem to fail, and our own hearts agree with them because they sound plausible. Yet if there is nothing more than this against such prayers, the Lord teaches us here to press them still. The parallel between persistence with man and with God is as hard to apply fully, and as open to serious objection, as any parallel one could suggest. The Lord Himself points to the difficulty, while pressing the argument as if there were none... Can we apply this to God? Certainly not the motive: God does not give to be rid of the petitioner.
The shut door is the real contrast. One writer sets it against how the Lord Himself received people:
How unlike all this was the blessed Lord Jesus Christ! His door was never shut. He never answered "from within." He had no time to eat bread or take rest, He was so occupied with human need... He never said to any son of want or child of sorrow, "I cannot rise and give you anything." He was ready to get up and go with every needy applicant, and His gracious word was always "Give."
If God is willing, delay needs another explanation. One writer finds it in what waiting does to the one praying:
There is majesty in God's goodness, and yet He takes notice of all our needs, and we must wait for His will and pleasure. Suppose someone asks his father for something, and the father says, "You must wait five minutes." Is the child to say, "No, I cannot; I must have it right away"? Waiting exercises faith, and it breaks the spirit down into a sense of need... There is a certainty that God will answer in blessing, though He delays.
Commentators differ in emphasis. One writer warns against treating persistence as pressure on God:
Never say that persistence is needed to move God... There is no reluctance in God; there is not the selfishness to be overcome that there was in the man at midnight. But there may be reasons for delaying the answer, and when it comes, it may come in a way you are little prepared for.
The argument runs upward, from the worse case to the better:
The need was urgent, and there was nothing to meet it. Even so, a mere man does get up and give — not for friendship's sake, sad to say, but because of persistence. How much more should the believer count on God!... God gives to all life and breath and everything; it is His nature.
- Shameless — the word here means shamelessness: the caller keeps knocking and refuses to feel ashamed.
- Definite — "three loaves" is the model: one clear need, felt as urgent, held before God without wandering.
- Contrasted — the sleeper gives to be rid of the caller. God never gives for that reason: His door was never shut.
- Delayed — waiting is not refusal. Waiting exercises faith and deepens our sense of need, and the answer will come, though perhaps in a form we did not expect.
- Greater — if a grudging man rises at midnight, how much more will God give, since giving is His nature.