Acts 1:6

This moment takes place during the forty days after Jesus rose from the dead, just before his ascension into heaven — one of the most remarkable stretches of time in the entire New Testament. The disciples, who had walked with Jesus for three years, are gathered with him one last time. For centuries, Jewish people had hoped for a Messiah who would restore Israel's national glory and free them from foreign oppression — at this time, the crushing weight of Roman military occupation. So the disciples ask what seemed like the obvious next question: now that you've conquered death, is it finally time to free Israel? They were asking about an earthly kingdom. Jesus was about to launch something far larger than a nation.

Lord, I come to you with my agenda more often than I realize. Like the disciples, I can be so sure of what I need that I miss what you're actually doing. Loosen my grip on my own plans, and give me the courage to want what you want. Amen.

Even after forty days with the risen Jesus — after touching his wounds, sharing meals on a beach, hearing him teach — the disciples were still asking about real estate. 'Lord, are you going to fix Israel now?' It is almost funny. And also completely human. We drag our predetermined agendas into the presence of the risen Christ and ask him to sign off on them. We show up to prayer not to listen, but to confirm what we've already decided we need. Jesus doesn't scold them for the question. He redirects. There's something generous in that — he doesn't say 'you've completely missed it.' He says, in effect, 'you're asking the wrong question, and the right one is coming.' God is often doing something bigger than the thing we've decided we need, moving in a direction we haven't thought to look. That's not a comfortable realization. But sitting with it honestly might be the beginning of genuine prayer — the kind that's actually willing to be surprised.