If someone challenged you to choose three words to describe Jesus, which would you pick?

Righteous?

Compassionate?

Loving?

All those would be good choices, but here’s another description that doesn’t usually make it to the top of our list.

Honest.

Jesus was honest. He told a woman caught in adultery, “Go and sin no more.” He called the Pharisees and Sadducees “a brood of vipers.” To their face.

Jesus didn’t mince words. He said, “I am the bread of life. . . . Unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. . . . the one who feeds on me will live because of me. . . . Your forefathers ate manna and died, but he who feeds on this bread will live forever.”

His teaching was so new, so fresh, so honest, that some who followed him walked away (John 6:35-60).

That happens today, too, when we tell people the truth about Jesus. Some turn and leave because they can’t handle the demands Jesus makes on our lives. But many more, hungry for the truth, can’t resist Jesus when we’re honest about him. And that’s only one of five results I’ve seen when churches decide to be honest.

I was wrecked within the first 10 pages.

I’d received a prepublication copy of Craig Groeschel’s latest book, Dangerous Prayers: Because Following Jesus Was Never Meant to Be Safe. As founder and leader of the revolutionary multisite Life.Church and presider over the international presence of Life.Church Online, he deserves a hearing. So I expected to appreciate his book.

But I didn’t expect to be undone by it. I didn’t expect it to lead me to deep repentance about the wrong ways I’ve led in every sphere of influence: with my family, with our staff, and yes, with our church. I didn’t expect to learn why I must be more intentional about the types of things I pray for. I didn’t expect to realize that my inadequate prayers have gotten in the way of people coming to know Jesus.

Anything I’d write here wouldn’t do the book justice. You must read it for yourself. And, besides, my purpose isn’t to post a book review. Instead, I want to tell you about the three prayers Groeschel challenges us to pray. And I want to explain how those prayers are changing me.

We’ve all been told we ought to pray. Some of us pray often. More of us struggle to pray. Many Christians feel embarrassed or guilty when they’re urged to pray, because they already knew they don’t pray like they should. Often they don’t pray because no one has taught them how.

As I’ve mentioned here before, I’ve been praying most mornings as I walk a giant circle around our church property. I take at least three laps, and for two of those I talk out loud (more about the silent lap below). I wear ear buds so passersby will think I’m talking on the phone instead of babbling incoherently.

Through the weeks, I’ve developed a process for prayer that helps me stay on track. It’s not complicated. (I need something simple!) Anyone can do it. I encourage you to try my four R’s.

Last week’s post painted a pretty bleak picture of division in the church. If it did not describe the church you know, maybe you haven’t been looking. Or maybe the situation isn’t as serious in your world as I’ve seen it in mine.

I’ll agree it’s too soon to give up hope. Certainly many Christians are weary of all the political wrangling. Some have decided to quit watching the news. Others have agreed never to bring up politics or their presidential choice with certain friends or family members. They’re concentrating, instead, on strategies to build and maintain relationships. They’re looking at a world in need and asking how they can make a difference.

We need more of them, because even a vocal minority of Christians with an unbalanced focus on politics can bring dangerous consequences. I listed three of them last week. This week I’ll mention two more.

Not long ago I passed a house with a shocking photo on display in the front yard. It showed a man holding up a middle finger above a caption that used the ugliest epithet to suggest what viewers could do if they didn’t vote for this guy’s presidential choice.

At first I couldn’t believe it, but quickly I realized how typical this is of what’s happening too often today. But here’s the worse part. Behind this unpleasant middle finger soared a huge white cross, the symbol of Christian love and sacrifice, also on display in the yard. But I doubt many who saw the photo noticed the cross, and those who did certainly received no clue of what the cross of Christ is all about.

When we put our political views in front of the cross of Christ, we hide it from a watching world. When politics becomes our praise, our effectiveness for God in this world is diminished, if not ruined.