One of life’s lessons is learning who you can ask. When questions or needs arise, the available people arise as well. Meaning, they answer their phone. They’re glad to field your question or give counsel to a particular situation. On the other hand, when problems show up, you’ve also found the people who never seem to have time for you. You don’t call them anymore.

But you quickly learn: just because someone is available, that doesn’t necessarily mean you want their answer to your question. In fact, just 6 months ago, you asked that man or woman his or her opinion, and though you followed their counsel to a “t,” you still haven’t recovered. Therefore, as you work on your list, of the people eager and available to hear your question, you mark off the people you’ve now learned are unwise. No need to ask them again.

Along the way, though available and seemingly wise, you’ve also received counsel from people that sounds suspiciously like counsel not in your best interest. Even though you’ve asked them a question about you, they seem to be making it about them. Those people have been marked off your list. No need to be a bother.

However, once you’ve gone through this decade–plus process of trial and error, attempting to find those willing and eager to hear, those who appear to be wise, and those who seem concerned for your good, you’ve learned who you can ask when the questions come. Or when you have a need.

Our text today is about asking. And it’s about Who we should ask.

1. God’s Goodness Surpasses the “Goodness” of Our Friends

That sounds simple. And it is. Jesus tosses out an absurd story here to make this simple point. V. 5, And he said to them, “Which of you who has a friend will go to him at midnight and say to him, ‘Friend, lend me three loaves, for a friend of mine has arrived on a journey, and I have nothing to set before him’”;

At the outset, it’s vital to note that Jesus constructs a hypothetical situation to make His point. It’s not unlike one of us saying, “Can you imagine this or that . . . ?”[1] Though it’s not introduced as a parable, nor fit many of the other dynamics of parables, it’s parable–esque.

The first aspect is stated oddly, “Which of you who has a friend?” The NASB translates it this way, Suppose one of you has a friend. After thinning out the group a bit, v. 5, Which of you who has a friend will go to him at midnight. The timing on this is not tangential. It’s widely assumed that this culture went to bed earlier and woke up earlier than our culture does. For these folks, midnight is the middle of the night. After dark, without electricity, life’s pace slowed to a crawl. But there were exceptions. For example, men or women often began longer journeys at night in order to steer clear of the heat of the day.[2]

Which is what appears to be the case here. V. 5, Which of you who has a friend will go to him at midnight and say to him, ‘Friend, lend me three loaves, for a friend of mine has arrived on a journey, and I have nothing to set before him.’ Jesus uses the word “friend” a number of times in these two verses and it can be confusing. Just so we’re clear: He’s asking which of these hearers would go to one of their friends––possibly a neighbor––at midnight because one of his out–of–town friends showed up unannounced. And when the out–of–town friend knocked, he had no bread to give him.

In essence, he’s got more friends than he’s got food. This puts him in an ethical pickle. Because hospitality is so prized in their culture, were someone to knock on your door, it’d be shameful not to feed him or her. To further compound the issue, no stores––selling bread or otherwise––stayed open after dark in this culture.[3] We’re not used to this in Memphis, but in many small towns today this is still the case. I remember in high school in Sparta, TN nearly running out of gas––and nearly losing my mind––trying to find a gas station open at 8:30 pm on Friday night.

The only place where bread could be found at this [...]