Pray. Act. Repeat.
Texts: 1 Timothy 2:1–7 & Luke 16:1–13
The Verbs That Won’t Let Us Go
Paul says: pray.
Jesus says: act.
Pray for kings and rulers. Act with whatever resources you’ve got.
Pray. Act.
These aren’t soft verbs. They don’t sit politely in the pews. They trail you into the grocery aisle. They whisper when you’re scrolling the headlines.
Pray. Act. Repeat.
Praying for Everyone (Even Them)
Paul says, “Pray for everyone.”
Everyone. Even the ones who make you mutter. The ones who make your stomach twist. The ones whose names you can barely say without rolling your eyes.
Prayer isn’t always noble. Sometimes it’s a sigh. Sometimes it’s swearing. Sometimes it’s silence because the words just won’t come.
And here’s the scandal: God still takes it. Even our muttered curses get hauled into heaven and turned into something we couldn’t make on our own.
The Parable That Refuses to Behave
Then Jesus tells a story that makes us squirm.
A manager wastes his master’s money. He panics. He hustles. He rewrites debts that don’t belong to him. And the master commends him.
This is not a Sunday school coloring page. It’s a scandal.
Why would Jesus point to a crook and say, pay attention?
Maybe because this man saw a way forward when no way existed. Maybe because he refused to be paralyzed by shame. Maybe because he believed mercy could bend the math.
Or maybe—because Jesus loves to mess with our sense of fairness.
Whatever the reason, it’s not neat. It’s not polite. And maybe that’s the point.
What If We Tried It?
Paul says: pray.
Jesus says: act.
So what if you prayed for the person you don’t want to? Not an elegant prayer—just a name, spat out between clenched teeth.
What if you acted with mercy this week in a way that makes zero sense? Not because it feels holy, but because it feels impossible. Which is exactly where God tends to show up.
And what if you left space for God to imagine bigger than you ever could?
Practicing in Real Time
Try this:
Think of someone you’d never put on your prayer list.
Someone you resist. Someone you’d rather erase.
Hold their name. Whisper it if you dare. Offer it to God.
That is prayer.
That is act.
That is repeat.
The Last Word
Here’s the truth: we’re not just clumsy at this. Sometimes we flat-out refuse. We hoard out of greed. We choose cruelty because it feels good for a minute. We don’t pray because we like the story where we’re right and they’re wrong.
And yet—Christ shows up right there. Not when we’re almost good, but when we’re not even close.
That’s the gospel: God doesn’t wait for us to get better. God meets us in the worst of it. Christ takes even our ugliest prayers, our stingiest acts, our intentional selfishness—and still, still, still carries them to God, who insists on mercy.
So yes, the invitation is: Pray. Act. Repeat.
But here’s the good news: when we won’t, when we can’t, when we refuse—God still does.
And that mercy is enough.
Amen.
