I remember the VHS machine perched on top of our oak TV stand whirring to life; chunk-clunk the tape slid in and the movie started. Three littles were bundled into warm blankets with favorite teddy bears wedged all around them on the couch, the cord from the hanging lamp snaking up the wall behind them casting a soft glow in the deepening shadows of a winter evening. Aladdin was coming to life for the millionth time.

When our kids were young we watched that movie so often that every one of us could sing the songs by heart and could pretty well recite the lines right along with the characters. The fairy tale was complete with heroes and villains but honestly the genie stole the show. Rub the lamp and say what you wish for and pooofffff it came to pass.

Such a tantalizing story; it was designed to validate some deep part of me that was purely and deceitfully selfish. I want…..whatever.more.now. That’s what fairy tales do.

the Jesus genie

I’m a mess, clean me up 

I said some terrible things, make them forget

I’m angry, help me get even

I’m hurt, pay them back

I’m poor, give me some of yours

I’m safe, protect me at all costs

I’m comfortable, keep it that way

I’m stubborn, make sure I get my way

I’m right, elevate my influence 

I’m sick, make me well

Do any of these things sound like your prayer life? Well, maybe not exactly word for word right?! But at the heart…I guarantee we’ve expressed some version of each of these sentiments without realizing it. Our prayers kind of float around Jesus wrapped in robes of piety when sometimes our intentions are far from holy.

give me

give me

give me

I especially notice this when I pray for my children, grandchildren, good friends; I want a cotton ball shroud of Christ to envelope them from head to foot in only good, fluffy, soft things. No hardship for us, Jesus. No tears, uh uh, you can lay that on the other people but we’re speaking against that over here. Pain?! I rebuke you!

When my prayers aren’t answered like I expect, I have a toddler tantrum and question the goodness of God. Didn’t he, after all, in John 14:13 clearly say that whatever I ask for in his name he will give me? It’s doesn’t compute. I loudly stomp my foot.

But Jesus is not a genie.

faith

Holy hearts live in faith.

When we reduce Jesus to a genie, our relationship with him becomes transactional. I’ll give you this if you give me that we softly barter in our hymn-song voice.

We abuse the heavenly throne room and belittle the gift of being able to stand before Almighty GOD by thinking we can cajole him into appeasing our selfish desires. We’re looking for stuff, he longs for communion. We want instant relief and a dopamine hit, he desires relationship and a deepening of our hope in him that transcends circumstance.

John 14:13 says “Whatever you ask in my name…” which means our prayers need to be consistent with the will of God and according to his character. How can he answer prayer that goes against who he is? How can he align with requests that feed the dragon of our sinful nature?

Thy will be done Lord, says trust.

sovereignty

Holy hearts accept his sovereignty.

When we reduce Jesus to a genie we elevate ourselves above God by implying that we can manipulate and control him through our own whims and desires.

I get it, sometimes we’re bleeding from a slashed jugular; disappointment and anger leech out onto the ground leaving us too weak to raise our hands in surrender. We can’t risk more pain so we clumsily exert control over what we can but all we manage to do is numb the pain, we can’t make it go away. We forget that pain means healing in the arms of our Father.

“…this I will do that the Father may be glorified in the Son.” Prayers that align with both the will and the character of God bring glory to the Father through the Son. He stays on his throne. We stay at his feet.

Thy will be done Lord, says submission.

sacrifice

Holy hearts readily sacrifice.

When we reduce Jesus to a genie, self trumps sacrifice. It’s like Peter in the Garden of Gethsemane when he got scared and chopped off the ear of the High Priest’s servant. I can just imagine Peter slashing and dashing, calling out to Jesus “let’s go, I’ve created a diversion!” in a desperate attempt at self preservation.

And then I think of Jesus in that moment. Did he feel like running away? Did he for an instant long to walk through the crowds unnoticed and escape like he had on other occasions? Regardless, he stays. He sacrifices his own will to that of his Father even though he knew that excruciating pain and torture were mere hours away.

Read Romans 12; you’ll see words like: living sacrifice, holy act of worship, transformation through renewal of our minds and then a clear definition of what that sacrifice looks like in the flesh (vs. 3-21). Prayers that sacrifice our selfish desires in favor of serving a higher purpose always bring glory to God. Love and kindness and mercy, hospitality and humility, forgiveness. Sacrifice reminds us that we are merely clay, he is the potter.

Thy will be done Lord, says worship.

Jesus, we pray that you would increase our faith, be sovereign over our lives. Teach us to worship you through living sacrificially and above all may your name be glorified in every circumstances we find ourselves in.