Teach Us to Pray: Recovery, Relationship, and the Fixer’s Surrender
Luke 11:1–13 begins with a simple request: “Lord, teach us to pray.” What follows is the Lord’s Prayer—short, direct, and powerful. But Jesus doesn’t stop there. He tells a story about persistence, and then delivers a promise: “Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened.”
For someone in recovery, this passage is a masterclass in spiritual connection. It’s not just about prayer—it’s about relationship, trust, and the courage to ask.
Recovery Lessons from Luke 11
1. Prayer Is Learned, Not Assumed
"Lord, teach us to pray."
Recovery Insight:
Prayer isn’t a performance. I’ve seen AA fellows fall into the trap of thinking that more visible prayer equals more divine attention. They carry rosary beads, race through the Lord’s Prayer, or go on spiritual retreats that feel more like theatre than transformation. It’s easy to confuse repetition with connection—like thinking more dumbbell curls will build spiritual muscle.
But prayer isn’t about building muscle. It’s about building meaning.
In early sobriety, prayer was foreign to me—absent for 40 years. I had to learn how to ask God for signs of His will and help with my shortcomings. And I didn’t feel comfortable until I linked prayer to my two missions:
- My business mission—to help clients build financial and legacy wealth so I can keep the lights on.
- My personal mission—to use the gifts God gave me (writing, organisation, business) to help as many recovering alcoholics as I can.
That was the tipping point. I wasn’t praying like a 19th-century gentleman asking his butler for help. I was increasing conscious contact with God so I could give my all to others. Prayer became less about box-ticking and more about loving God’s children the way He loves them—and helping them in the way I’m designed to.
2. Persistence Is the Path
"Because of his shameless audacity, he will surely get up."
Recovery Insight:
Recovery requires persistence. I’ve knocked on doors that didn’t open right away. I read deeply, listen carefully, interpret, get things wrong, adjust, and sometimes get it wrong again. But I keep knocking. That’s what Jesus honors—not perfection, but persistence.
3. Ask, Seek, Knock
"Ask and it will be given… seek and you will find… knock and the door will be opened."
Recovery Insight:
These are action verbs. Recovery is active. I ask for help. I seek truth. I knock on the doors of opportunity, healing, and grace. And sometimes, the door opens in ways I didn’t expect.
Fixer Reflection: Surrender in the Asking
As a Fixer, I’m wired to solve problems. But Luke 11 reminds me that some solutions don’t come from strategy—they come from surrender. My job is to act with integrity, stay sober, fine-tune my wisdom to know what I can change and what I cannot, and identify “Go Time” moments—then let grace do the heavy lifting.
Prayer is one of those moments. It’s where I stop fixing and start trusting. It’s where I ask, seek, knock—and then let go and let God.
Jason Bresnehan
Jason is a fixer—of businesses, of broken momentum, and occasionally of entire spiritual frameworks gone sideways. He speaks fluent boardroom and AA, deploys Catholic doctrine with the subtlety of a scalpel, and isn’t afraid to lace his insights with both war-room metaphors and dad-sermon tenderness.
Founder of Evahan, a consultancy built on the idea that legacy and liquidity don’t need to fight, Jason draws on 30 years of commercial grit, tactical leadership, and emotional radar to help people rebuild what entropy took. He works with companies, communities, and recovery misfits alike—often using the same principles to sort both cap tables and chaotic lives.
He’s finalising his first book—a memoir-in-doctrine forged in the trenches of alcoholic recovery, endurance motorsport obsession, and spiritual trench marches. That book, partly teased on his Pursuit of Luck blog, is the cornerstone of a broader movement to connect practical wisdom with satirical grit, spiritual heat, and a recovery roadmap lined with breadcrumbs and tactical grace.