The Lord's Prayer

Musician and author Carolyn Arends shares a story in an issue of Christianity Today magazine:

On a recent trip, I had a conversation with a man who learned I was from Vancouver. He had lived there years earlier, and after asking if a particular music shop was still in the city, he told me a story.

His wife was a piano major at the University of British Columbia. When they went piano shopping as newlyweds, the saleswoman led them straight to the entry-level models. The man told me, “She had us pegged exactly right. We didn’t have two nickels to rub together. We were going to have to borrow the money to get the cheapest instrument there.”

Everything changed, however, when the name of the prospective buyer’s mentor—a world-renowned master teaching at the university—came up in conversation. The saleswoman was panic-stricken. “Not these pianos!” she exclaimed, herding the couple away from the economy section and into a private showroom of gleaming Steinways. “I’m so sorry,” she kept repeating, horrified at the thought of the teacher finding out she’d shown one of his students an inferior instrument. Try as they might, they couldn’t persuade her to take them back to the pianos they could afford. Once the master’s name came up, only the best would do.

I said “Hallowed be thy name” this morning mumbling my way through the Lord’s Prayer. I’ve prayed that phrase countless times. But today, I find myself thinking about the reverence a flustered piano saleswoman had for a teacher’s name, and the prayer begins to change shape.

What does it mean to “hallow” God’s name? I’ve heard about the extreme care taken in branches of Judaism: Pages containing the name of YHWH are never thoughtlessly discarded but rather buried or ritually burned. When I’ve prayed the Lord’s Prayer, I’ve tried to cultivate that kind of personal reverence for his name—even while living in a world prone to profane it.

I’m glad I was taught to avoid blasphemy. But I’m beginning to suspect that my understanding of what it means to hallow God’s name has barely scratched the surface. But if we pray as he taught us, our reverence and care for his name will grow. That’s when we’ll begin to exchange our cheap instruments of self-interest for the costly Cross of Christ—the only instrument worthy of our Master’s name.

Pastor Andrew Wilson writes in an issue of CT magazine:

Most of us pray the Lord’s Prayer backwards. (A few) years ago, my wife and I were on an Air New Zealand flight that felt like it was falling out of the sky. Approaching the Queenstown airport, we were caught in a giant wind tunnel. The plane was shuddering and sporadically dropping 50 feet at a time. The cabin filled with shrieking and praying. Many people were crying out to a God in whom they did not believe. Just as there are no atheists in foxholes, there certainly aren’t many on buffeted flights.

Thirty minutes later, after having landed safely, the group of strangers waited at baggage claim, looking awkwardly at each other. No doubt, many of them felt silly.

The content of those prayers fascinated me. I suspect it reflects the way many of us intuitively pray. The most common petition I heard was some variant of “Deliver us from evil.” “Help!” “Save us!” and “Oh, God, please don’t let me die!” Crises prompt cries for deliverance, with the immediate need for safety drowning out all other concerns.

The other prayer I heard, though more infrequently, was “Forgive us our sins” in some form or another: “I’m sorry” and “God, please forgive me.” People want to be at peace with God when they die. So, after crying out for rescue, they apologized as they prepared to meet their Maker.

After these sorts of petitions, most of us pray, “Please.” This is probably the most frequent type of prayer we utter. “God, please give me this job.” “Fix my marriage.” “Keep my children safe.” “Provide for my family.” Or, more traditionally, “Give us today our daily bread.” Life comes first, then forgiveness, and then physical provision.

Left to our own devices, we pray the Lord’s Prayer backwards. Without being taught, we say help, then sorry, then please do X for me, and then please do Y for others. And then we begin to appreciate more fully the One to whom we are praying—not just as the One who dispenses safety, redemption, and material goods, but for his own sake.

Yet Jesus taught us to pray it forwards. The topsy-turvy order of the Lord’s Prayer is one reason it is so remarkable. Jesus wanted to make sure (the disciples) never forgot that prayer is not intended to move from action to relationship. Instead, it is intended to move from relationship to action. “This, then, is how you should pray: ‘Our Father …’” Forget your formulas and your intercessory cards for a moment, and begin praying with one of the most basic words in a child’s vocabulary. You are God’s child, and he is your Father. Start there, and the rest will flow accordingly.

Most of us are probably so familiar with the Lord’s Prayer that we never stop to think what an amazing thing it is that we have this prayer. What if you had the opportunity to ask the greatest basketball coach of all time to teach you how to shoot a basketball? Or if you were able to ask the greatest chef to teach you how to cook? Or if you were to ask the greatest fighter pilot to teach you how to fly a plane? You'd be on the edge of your seat ready to hear what the expert has to say and then to put the advice and example into practice.

How much more should we be ready and eager to hear from Jesus. He is much more than an expert in prayer, and prayer is infinitely more important than any hobby, skill, or vocation. Prayer is absolutely indispensable for the Christian. We can't live without it.

Robert Morgan writes that as President William McKinley lay dying from an assassin's bullet in Buffalo, New York, in 1901, the Lord's Prayer was on his lips. Prayer had been a lifelong practice that guided McKinley through his political career and into the presidency. McKinley had been born into a devout Christian home fifty-eight years before, and born again at age fourteen. According to his pastor, A. D. Morton, young McKinley stood up during a youth meeting and said, "I have sinned; I want to be a Christian ... I give myself to the Savior who has done so much for me."

McKinley's mother, a woman of deep prayer, taught him to pray by example and encouragement, but his greatest lessons in prayer were forged under the pressures of his duties as President of the United States. One of his heaviest decisions arose in 1898 regarding the status of the Philippines after the Spanish-American War. One day, a delegation of church leaders came to the White House, and McKinley told them how he had decided to resolve the crisis in the Philippines.

"The truth is, I didn't want the Philippines," he said. "I did not know what to do. … I sought counsel from all sides—Democrats as well as Republicans—but got little help. … I walked the floor of the White House night after night until midnight, and I am not ashamed to tell you, gentlemen, that I went down on my knees and prayed Almighty God for light and guidance more than one night. And one night late it came to me this way."

McKinley relayed the strategy that developed in his mind as he prayed: that the Philippines should be taken seriously and helped, that the United States should "by God's grace do the very best we could by them as our fellow-men for whom Christ died." McKinley added, "And then I went to bed, and went to sleep and slept soundly."

The following thoughts about the Lord's Prayer could also apply to any written prayer found in the Bible (such as the Psalms or the prayers in Paul's letters):

We are usually at a loss regarding what to say to God on behalf of another person or, alternatively, to God himself regarding the fulfillment of his purposes in the world. The Lord's Prayer frees us from the tyranny of spiritual creativity and allows us to rest in the confidence of something certain and true. Instead of fabricating something snappy to garner God's attention, Jesus would have us lose all such originality and simply plagiarize … at the [invitation] of the Lord himself.

In a recent interview in The Sun, Sister Helen Prejean, the author of the book Dead Man Walking, talked about one of her heroes of faith and forgiveness—Lloyd LeBlanc. Lloyd is the father of David LeBlanc, a 17-year-old who was murdered by Patrick and Eddie Sonnier. When neighbors started harassing Ms. Sonnier for her sons' actions, Lloyd Leblanc came to her house with a basket of fruit. Lloyd told Ms. Sonnier that he was a parent too, and he understood that she wasn't responsible for the murder.

Utterly amazed by this act of forgiveness, the interviewer asked Prejean, "How does a parent do such a thing?" Helen Prejean replied with the following story:

Lloyd told me how the sheriff had brought him to the morgue to identify his son's body. David was a beautiful kid, 17-years-old. He had been shot in the back of the head, and when the sheriff pulled his body out on the cold tray … Lloyd—who was good with his hands and could fix things—looked down at his son and thought, I can't fix this. And he began to pray. He came to the line in the Our Father about forgiving those who trespass against us. "I didn't feel it," he said, "but I knew that was where I had to go." And that is where he went.

Lloyd embodies forgiveness—not just something we can do for others, but forgiveness … that says, I am not going to let this anger and hatred kill me. I'm going to remain kind and loving. [Forgiveness] is a path, not a single act. One's commitment to it has to be renewed every day.

I am increasingly convinced that if the Church is to live, and actually be alive, one of the reasons, maybe the most important and maybe the only reason, will be because we have taken up our place in the line of the generations of the faithful who came before us. It will be because we pray the prayer that Christ himself prayed when he walked among us and now longs to pray through us.

It will be because we choose to no longer be among the ones who silence the prayer that Christ, through his body, prays to the Father.

It will be because we make sure that the wave of prayer that sustained the Church for all time does not stop when it is our turn to say it each day. It will be because we answer the ancient call to pray without ceasing.

— Robert Benson, author and retreat leader, in his book In Constant Prayer

My 4-year-old son Jonathan was trying to learn the Lord's Prayer. He learned by listening at church each Sunday.

On one Sunday as we were praying the Lord's Prayer, he could be heard above all the others, praying, "Our Father who art in Heaven, I know you know my name."

My Sunday school class of youngsters had some problems repeating the Lord's Prayer, but they didn't lack in imagination. One child prayed, "Our Father, who art in heaven, how'd you know my name."

You cannot pray the Lord's Prayer and even once say "I."

You cannot pray the Lord's Prayer and even once say "My."

Nor can you pray the Lord's Prayer and not pray for one another.

And when you ask for daily bread, you must include your brother.

For others are included ... in each and every plea,

From the beginning to the end of it, it doesn't once say "Me."

I used to think the Lord's Prayer was a short prayer; but, as I live longer, and see more of life, I believe there is no such thing as getting through it. If a man, in praying that prayer, were to be stopped by every word until he had thoroughly prayed it, it would take him a lifetime.

A well-known author and authority on prayer was giving a seminar. During the question-and-answer period, a man raised his hand and boldly asked, "Doctor, how should I pray?"

"It's very simple," the noted expert responded without hesitation. "Ask God."

"Lord, teach us to pray!" So spoke the disciples to Jesus. In making this request, they confessed that they were not able to pray on their own, that they had to learn to pray. The phrase "learning to pray" sounds strange to us. If the heart does not overflow and begin to pray by itself, we say, it will never "learn" to pray. But it is a dangerous error, surely very widespread among Christians, to think that the heart can pray by itself.

For then we confuse wishes, hopes, sighs, laments, rejoicings--all of which the heart can do by itself--with prayer. And we confuse earth and heaven, man and God. Prayer does not mean simply to pour out one's heart. It means rather to find the way to God and to speak with him, whether the heart is full or empty. No man can do that by himself. For that he needs Jesus Christ.

When our children were small, we played a game. I'd take some coins in my fist. They'd sit on my lap and work to get my fingers open. According to the international rules of finger opening, once the finger was open, it couldn't be closed again. They would work at it, until they got the pennies in my hand. They would jump down and run away, filled with glee and delight. Just kids. Just a game.

Sometimes when we come to God, we come for the pennies in his hand.

"Lord, I need a passing grade. Help me to study."

"Lord, I need a job."

"Lord, my mother is ill."

We reach for the pennies. When God grants the request, we push the hand away.

More important than the pennies in God's hand is the hand of God himself. That's what prayer is about. When you go to God in prayer, the name that should come easily to your lips is Father.