Matthew 6:9-13
"This, then, is how you should pray:
" 'Our Father in heaven,
hallowed be your name,
your kingdom come,
your will be done,
on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us today our daily bread.
And forgive us our debts,
as we also have forgiven our debtors.
And lead us not into temptation,
but deliver us from the evil one.'



Prayer is rooted in the stuff of life. Notice how Jesus teaches us to pray: we acknowledge who God is, we emotionally invest ourselves in his name being revered and his way of doing things happening HERE. And then, we pray about everyday, normal things. We open up every sphere of our lives to him - the food we eat, the people we bump up against, and the unknown future that is the source of so much worry and anxiety.

This prayer is often called “The Lord’s Prayer” or the “Our Father”, but it was given to the disciples as a prayer that we can pray together. Notice the use of plurals; “us” and “we” - not “I” and “me”. This is a prayer of community - it begins with adoration, moves into a longing for God’s rule to be established (as above, so below) and then it forces us to pray with and for each other; it’s almost as if the first few lines are fulfilled in the last few. Maybe God’s Kingdom is lived out as we pray for each other’s material needs, and live more generously the more we pray it. Maybe God’s Kingdom is lived out as we realize that our reception of forgiveness is entirely dependent on our willingness to “pay it forward”. And we pray for the well-being of each other; that nobody we are praying for and with would fall into the emptiness of the Dark Story of fear and worry, but live in the Real Story of grace and abundance.

In short, this prayer leads to action; and you can’t keep praying it without starting to do it. Jesus’ disciples ask him to teach them to pray; he replies by giving them a prayer that leads to a life lived out. How can you continue to pray for “our” (not “my”) daily bread and live a greedy, self-absorbed life? How can we ask for forgiveness and refuse to show any, and keep praying this prayer? How can we live apathetically, knowing there is an enemy (the Prince of Chaos) and not encourage and help each other through dark days? We can’t keep praying this prayer and not do the stuff.

But this prayer isn’t focused on doing stuff. This prayer is focused on OUR Father. Not “Jesus’ Father” exclusively (Jesus was willing to share!) or even “My Father”. OUR Father. The very first line places us in community, whether we like it or not. And as we realize that we are part of a larger story and a larger group of people, then we begin to see everything differently. The people around us are no longer separate entities passing by each other in a meaningless cosmos. They are our brothers and sisters. We share a common parent. We pray for his name to be “hallowed”. But the way we live either hallows his name or sullies it; regardless of what our mouths might say. For instance, if you speak very piously about how wonderful God is and very crudely about other humans made in his image, you are not hallowing his name. If you see yourself as somehow more spiritual or closer to God than anyone else, you aren’t being very Christ-like and are misrepresenting him to others. When we divide over miniscule doctrinal differences or theological pet peeves, we aren’t reflecting the heart of Jesus’ prayer for unity in John 17. When we make our own little group the “in-group” and refuse to let outsiders and sinners sit our table experiencing the complete acceptance of God as revealed in Emmanuel, “God-with-us”, we are grossly distorting his heart for his creation, and at the very least - not hallowing his name.

We can’t pray the prayer and continue to live like religious snobs.
And yet. This is hard stuff. To just hear it spoken like that makes it sound like God expects us to become this kind of person overnight. Just a cursory glance at his relationship with his disciples is enough to dispel that myth. He walks us through it. He shows us how. He does it himself through us. And when we fall, he picks us up and washes our feet. We see him doing this with his disciples again and again. He is not trying to get a perfect performance out of any of us; he is helping each of us become more and more like him by letting us experience his joys and his sorrows. In this way, we are formed from within, through the Spirit, so that we are authentic in how we live. He doesn’t want pious pretenders; he wants participants.

So maybe the best way to react to this is by saying, “Jesus! You ask too much!” Because it’s true; he does ask too much. And pretending that we are okay with it is just phony. I look at the life he calls me to and say, “No way.” It’s too hard, the world is too scary, people are too mean and I don’t naturally want to put myself or anyone I love in harm’s way. I don’t want to be open and vulnerable. I don’t want to wish good things for people I can’t stand. I don’t want to live this way. I want to live for my own self-preservation. I don’t want to do hard things; I naturally desire the cowardly way. Let someone else do it. It’s someone else’s problem. Let the Mother Teresas and Saint Francises heal the world. I would rather just stay home and watch T.V.

Why say all that? Isn’t it just setting me up for defeat? Isn’t it just heaping more discouragement into my life? No, it’s me being honest. And if I ever want to go where Jesus is taking me, I have to be honest about where I’m at. I can’t airbrush my life so that nobody else can see my foibles and flaws and expect to be a disciple of Jesus. So I continue to pray this prayer, and little by little, I find myself living differently. While I am honest about what a scalawag I truly am, that tiny shred of honesty is what opens my heart wider for some more of his light to get in. It’s not mouthing a bunch of words I don’t mean that enlarges my capacity to receive him; it’s speaking from where my heart really is. When Adam and Eve “fell” by eating the forbidden fruit, they hid themselves. We can hide ourselves just as easily in sweet little prayers and sentimental religion.

But when we get a glimpse of the dangerous adventure Jesus calls us out into, our first reaction had better be to try to run the other way, because it shows that we see it for what it is. And that is precisely what every disciple did in the Garden of Gethsemane when the Temple Guard came to arrest Jesus. One disciple had to disrobe and run away naked just to escape. Shortly after, the same Peter who was so confident in his own spiritual strength denied he ever knew Jesus, just to save his own skin. It’s something every disciple of Jesus goes through; it’s a rite of passage of sorts.

But then, we realize that the place we run to isn’t any safer, and it’s a lot emptier. Staying home watching T.V. just makes us lonelier. Trying to find solace in pleasure for its own sake only opens the floodgates of despair in our souls. We find ourselves in a dark place, where there is “weeping and gnashing of teeth”. The Outer Darkness. The “me-first mentality” will lead us to utter isolation and an inability to break free from meaninglessness. Some call this a dark night of the soul; others compare it to the “far country” that the prodigal son ran off to. Whatever it is, don’t stay long enough to map the place out; go back to the places your heart hurts. Revisit the old wounds you’ve been trying to forget about. Cast yourself in a helpless heap where your deepest fears lie. Because that is where he can be found. The dying places in your soul are his stomping grounds. The deep dry places will be flooded with gushing springs when he arrives. And that is how you will be changed. Not by mouthing a prayer or reading words on a page - by walking with him through the parts of your life that hurt the most.

Does it sound easy?
Try it sometime.
And then give up, for Christ’s sake.