The Lord’s Prayer: Our Daily Bread

We’re now at a turning point in the Lord's Prayer. So far we’ve been getting our hearts and minds and wills in line with the great purposes of God. When we do that, we begin to have real power in prayer.

Now we turn from our concern with God's affairs—God’s name, God’s kingdom, God’s will—to God's concern with our affairs—our bread, our sins, our times of trial. The first thing we ask is, “Give us this day our daily bread.” Just about every word in this petition is worth thinking about.

We begin with the action word, the verb “give.” We’re boldly saying, “God, there’s something we want you to give us!”

Gifts are the language of love. I can’t imagine loving someone and not giving them gifts—or at least wanting to. Parents give to their children, and children in their own way give to their parents. Children understand that the real meaning of gifts is the love they express, not how fancy they are or how much they cost.

God loves so much that God gives everybody gifts! God makes the sun rise on the evil and the good. God sends rain on the just and the unjust. God feeds the birds of the air and clothes the grass of the field. How much more will God's own children be clothed and fed? If we, being evil, know how to give good gifts to our children, how much more will our Father in heaven give good things to us when we ask for them?

Next, Jesus suggests that the first thing we ask God to give us is bread. We all know what bread is. We all need it. We’d all die without it. What could be plainer than that?

Unfortunately, this apparently simple request is complicated by one word: “Give us this day our daily bread.” An honest translation might read, “Give us this day our [mystery word] bread.” You don’t find the Greek word our texts translate “daily” anywhere else in the New Testament. We can only guess what it means, but I think “bread” here means bread, the stuff we get in the dining room that can be smelled, tasted, chewed, digested—the  stuff on which our physical existence depends. On that interpretation, note the simplicity of this request: plain, old bread, not candy or cake. The basic staff of life, not luxuries or frills.

Note also the humility of this request. It’s a confession that despite our advanced technical know-how in agriculture, our deep freezes, and overflowing supermarkets, we still depend on God for what is essential for our survival. Should the sun stop shining or the rain stop falling or the seed stop growing, our technology and our tractors would be useless. It’s been said that at every harvest time the whole world is only a few weeks from famine. There’s no such thing as a man or woman of "independent means." You can't eat means. Even if such a person's stocks and bonds and savings accounts were 100 percent safe (which they never are) the failure of sun, rain, and crop growth would leave him or her with the grim prospect of eating the paper in the safe deposit box.

Now then, just because bread is so utterly material, utterly simple, utterly necessary for survival, it becomes a powerful symbol for a whole range of blessings, both material and spiritual, for which we must depend on God. Small wonder that bread plays the central role in the central sacrament of our faith, where it is the vehicle of the profoundest spiritual realities. Small wonder that preaching can be described as "breaking the bread of life." Small wonder that a banquet becomes the symbol of the kingdom. Jesus could utilize the symbolic power of bread to say, “I am the bread of life.”

Now to the dailiness. I’m convinced that in this petition, as in the whole prayer, Jesus evokes the rich Old Testament background he knew so well, in this case the story of the manna in the wilderness (Exodus 16). Here are the people of God in a barren desert, entirely dependent on God for survival. And God provides bread: a little white round thing left by the dew each morning. The Hebrews called it "What is it?"—that's what the word manna literally means—and some of them tried to hoard it. But it wouldn't work. No matter how hard they worked to gather the stuff, they only had enough for that day. If they tried to save it over, it spoiled.

God has never promised anybody a year's supply of bread. God gives us enough for one day. Fair enough! The only day we can live is today. How we distort and twist life when we try to live in the future or in the past! We destroy ourselves when we try to bear today the burdens we foresee for tomorrow or the burdens we remember from yesterday. Let the day's evil suffice for that day, says Jesus. We are promised strength to bear that much and food to survive that long. Of course we make plans and took ahead. But we pray for strength one day at a time. That prayer is answered day after day after day.

We can't get a year's supply of the Bread of Life either. Some of us try to live on the strength of a conversion twenty years ago or a good book we read last year. These things won't keep. You and I need to hear the gospel every Sunday, just to make it until the next Sunday. We are all of us daily beggars at the Lord's Table, for the bread that makes physical life possible and for spiritual food as well.

Now for the little words we skip over so easily: “Give us this day our daily bread.” When we pray that “our” bread may be given to “us,” we’re praying that all people may have enough to eat. And we obligate ourselves to do something about the shameful and stubborn problem of world hunger in our time. Those who have studied that problem say that the basic cause isn’t lack of know-how or the inability of the planet to provide for its population. The basic cause is the lack of the political will to do what we already know how to do. This prayer obligates us to attack that root cause of hunger.

 
       God feeds us generously—spiritually and physically. May we each do what we can to feed others in God’s name.

I Am an Ally . . .

An Ex-President to Be Proud Of!

The Lord’s Prayer: “Your Will Be Done . . .”

Imagine with me that we’re all on the moon. Out of the cold, darkness of space there rises into view a great, bright, blue ball. There it is: earth, the only place where human beings can live without space suits; earth, equipped with air and water and all the vital life-support systems; earth, the one self-sustaining spaceship, speeding through the darkness, beckoning us out of death to life. If we can’t successfully get back there, we’re doomed. If it’s blown to bits while we’re gone, there’s no other haven. If it’s spared and we get back, we’ll be home.

Isn't it amazing? Just when all the juice is gone from words that are squeezed dry by familiarity, just when a petition like "Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven" has become dead and meaningless—this happens. Suddenly it’s so new we’re not sure we ever heard it before—“Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven!”

What is the will of God? All too often we use the expression "It’s God's will" when we’re forced to accept things we don't like, when we confront the unexpected and the unwanted, when we face temptation or tragedy.

According to the synoptic gospel tradition (meaning Matthew, Mark and Luke), Jesus was tempted by the devil in the wilderness. There is no account of the wilderness temptation in John. Luke sums up the temptations by saying that the devil “finished every test” (4:13). That is, in these three scenes Luke sees portrayed the whole range of temptations Jesus will face in his ministry. In turn this means that Jesus’ experience was unique to his sonship and mission. Through it all, Jesus never wavered from doing God’s will in a way no one else has ever done.

Jesus dared to say there are some things in this world that aren’t the will of God. “So it is not the will of your Father in heaven that one of these little ones should be lost” (Matthew 18:14). The writer of 2 Peter understood Jesus well, I think, when he said that God does not want “any to perish, but all to come to repentance” (2 Peter 3:9).

If God doesn’t will the destruction of little children, or indeed the destruction of any of us, what does God will? God wills life. “I have come down from heaven, not to do my own will, but the will of him who sent me. And this is the will of him who sent me, that I should lose nothing of all that he has given me, but raise it up on the last day” (John 6:38-39).

God wills the coming of the kingdom. This, as we’ve seen, was the burden of Jesus' message as recorded in the first three Gospels. The relationship between "Your kingdom come" and "Your will be done" is very close. God wills unity, the overcoming of all that divides and creates enmity and hostility. “[God] has made known to us the mystery of his will, according to his good pleasure that he set forth in Christ, as a plan for the fullness of time, to gather up all things in him, things in heaven and things on earth” (Ephesians 1:9-10).

Whoever the author of 1 Timothy was (probably not the apostle Paul), he is surely in line with the mind of Jesus when he writes that God “desires everyone to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth” (1 Timothy 2:4). Salvation is the will of God. How sadly cheapened that great word has become! Salvation means rescue, safety, healing, wholeness, peace, release, and reconciliation. When the singer of Psalm 40 tells of being heard by God, being drawn up from the desolate pit, of feet set on a rock, steps made secure, of being taught to sing again, of deliverance, he is describing salvation, and he uses the word more than once. These things are the will of God; they are God's “good pleasure,” what God delights to do and to have done.

In the prayer he taught his disciples, Jesus affirms that the will of God is done in heaven. In fact, that’s what heaven is: the realm wherever situated where the will of God gets done: promptly, without delay; perfectly, without exception; willingly, without resistance.

But we live on earth, not in heaven. How is the will of God done here? Not promptly: in all the eons of earth's history the day of salvation, of rescue, safety, healing, wholeness, peace, release, reconciliation, has not yet arrived.

Not perfectly: only in bits of healing, broken signs of wholeness, moments of peace, the foretaste of the kingdom, but not its fullness.

Not willingly: resisted step-by-step and inch-by-inch.

This earth is a whole network of contesting wills. There is God's will, but also our wills. Our wills are sometimes in contest with God's. This is why we usually think “the will of God” is something we don't want, something to which we submit grudgingly.  Overarching our wills with a power that seems greater and more cunning than the sum of them, is a mysterious will that our ancestors called “Satan,” or “the devil” or “the Evil One.”

So Spaceship Earth goes its way with a mutinous, bickering crew. Twenty percent have stashed away in their compartments 80 percent of the goodies on board and live so recklessly that they threaten to foul up all the indispensable life-support systems. The other 80 percent live without adequate health care, unable to enjoy much or learn much on the trip. It is known that some of the passengers weren’t well searched before they came on board and have hidden in their luggage weapons that could wreck the whole ship. The people on board keep multiplying at an unprecedented rate, so things are crowded and all the problems become more irritating.

This doesn’t mean that earth has been wrested from God's control. God is still Captain of the ship. We’re not speeding through space out of God's control and out of God's care. “If I make my bed in Sheol”—hell—“you are there!” (Psalm 139:8).

There’s an element of resignation in this petition. It signifies our acceptance of those things we see but can’t understand. But that’s not the main thrust. Prayer is more than self-adjustment to the way things are. Prayer is a cry for things to change, for the great positive will of God that is summarized in the great word "salvation" to be done—and to be done here on earth as it is done in heaven. God is interested in earth. God is interested in changing earth and making it like heaven. That, to echo Luther, is God's proper will, and that’s what we pray for.

In a memorable sermon, George Arthur Buttrick (late minister of the Madison Avenue Presbyterian Church in New York City) summarized the import of this prayer. Your will be done to me—that's the note of resignation. Your will be done through me—that's enlistment for service. Your will be done for me and all others—that's the note of joyous anticipation that God will one day achieve God's gracious, proper will for us all.

Praying for the will of God to be done on earth gets right down to the conflict between your will and God's. You won’t learn to pray by beginning piously and resignedly, "Your will be done." The first question is, “What is your will? What do you want?” An embarrassing question! It’s not easy to clarify, to articulate, and to specify what we really want. The very process can teach us something.

Now then: ask, seek, knock; batter on the gates of heaven for what you want, and took for the answer. Does it not come? Keep knocking. Don’t get tired and give up too fast. Remember the fellow who wanted bread at midnight. Does it still not come? Then maybe your will is not in line with God's great desire to bring safety and health and wholeness and peace and release and reconciliation to all people. Maybe what you want needs correction. Now you are beginning to learn in the school of prayer. Now you are ready to pray with real meaning, “Lord, teach me your will. Lord, your will be done!”

Stay warm, dear friends.

Ash Wednesday: "My Bad"

[With gratitude to Bass Mitchell for the title and some of the ideas here.]

“My bad” is an expression you hear these days. It means, “I messed up. It’s my fault. I take responsibility for that. I’ll try to do better. Please forgive me.”

Psalm 51 could be entitled, “My Bad.” Tradition attributes it to King David, at a time he had some serious confessing to do. Remember how he abused his royal power to seduce Bathsheba, the wife of one of his most loyal officers? David ordered her into his presence, forced her to go to bed with him, and got her pregnant. Then he did everything he could think of to cover it up. Eventually he again abused his power by arranging things so that her husband would be killed in battle. Nowadays, I suppose we’d call it “Bathsheba-gate.” David thought he got away with it… until Nathan, a prophet, confronted him about it. David then confessed. Tradition says that David wrote this psalm in this context. Biblical scholars aren’t sure about that but whoever wrote Psalm 51 was saying “My bad,” and he really meant it. He feels unclean, soiled, guilty, broken, even estranged from God. He can’t sleep. He’s lost his joy and he’s taking responsibility for all of it. He’s to blame. He’s confessing and seeking forgiveness. He’s crying out from the depths of his soul, “My bad, Lord! My very, very bad!

I don’t know about you, but I like it—“My bad.” I think the world could stand to hear it a whole lot more.

Someone once said, “Forgiveness does not change the past, but it does enlarge the future.” That’s what a sincere “My bad” can do – not so much change what has happened as to make possible a better future. 

Yeah, it would be nice to hear more, “My bad.” We would hear it more if we said it more ourselves.

Wouldn’t it be nice to seek out a person you’ve hurt in some way and genuinely say, “My bad. I was wrong. I apologize. I want to make amends”?

Truth be told, “My bad” is something we probably should say every day for one reason or another to people we know… Certainly to God…

In a way, part of the purpose of Ash Wednesday is to remind us of the importance of saying and really meaning, “My bad.” Ash Wednesday is like a mirror held up to remind us that we are not always nice and good, that we say and do things that hurt others and ourselves, and our planet – not to mention leaving things unsaid and undone that we should have said or done. This night, this day in the church year is telling us, “Go ahead. Say it. ‘My bad.’ Mean it. Take responsibility for it. Confess to God and seek forgiveness. And not just tonight. Do it for forty days just so you will get the message!”

But Ash Wednesday can also remind us that it is not enough just to say, “My bad.” What we are called to say is not only “Yes, my bad. I am a sinner,” but also “My good. I will turn from the bad and seek the good. I will, with God’s help, change. Become more who God and others need me to be.” Saying “My bad” doesn’t mean very much at all without a sincere desire and determination to so live that we have less and less reason to say it.

I invite each of you right now to take a moment to bow your heads. Begin your own prayer or psalm or sonnet with, “Lord, my bad…” and be specific. Be honest. Then seek God’s forgiveness and help in moving from “My bad” to “My good,” to becoming more the person God wants you to be. One other thing, realize, too, that you are saying “My bad” privately to God. But God’s answer might be that you and I both need to go to someone else and say it as well.

Obama Sets Progressive Agenda In State Of The Union

 

Love it or hate it, President Obama presented the American people with a clear legislative agenda Tuesday night. If the Republican Party ever wants to return from the political wilderness, it will eventually need to do the same.

More . . .

The Lord's Prayer: “Your Kingdom Come”

If you think faith should have nothing to do with politics, stay away from praying, “Your kingdom come”! “Kingdom” is definitely a political word! When we pray that we’re saying, "Take over, God. Run this world! It belongs to you, anyway, so govern in the affairs of people and nations." 

We’ve been saying that if we want to pray the way Jesus taught us, we need to begin by getting ourselves in line with the purposes of God. First, we pray that who God is and what God does may be honored in the earth: “Hallowed be your name.” Then we pray that the rule of God in human affairs—which doesn’t seem very evident—may be made real and visible: “Your kingdom come.”

Jesus never really defined the kingdom of God He didn’t need to. Everybody had studied about it in the Hebrew Bible and knew what it was. Everybody was talking about it. Everybody was looking for it.

The most striking thing Jesus ever said about the kingdom of God was that it was already here. He began his ministry, according to Mark's Gospel, by saying, ““The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news” (Mark 1:15). If that’s not a statement that the kingdom of God has already come, it’s at the very least a claim that it’ll be coming any minute! 

Later in his ministry, especially in connection with his struggle with the unseen, demonic powers that enslave and distort the human mind, Jesus made the claim that the kingdom of God has come: “[I]f it is by the finger of God that I cast out the demons, then the kingdom of God has come to you” (Luke 11:20). Once again, when the Pharisees asked Jesus when the reign of God was coming, he answered, “The kingdom of God is not coming with things that can be observed; nor will they say, ‘Look, here it is!’ or ‘There it is!’ For, in fact, the kingdom of God is among you” (Luke 17:20-21). 

But Jesus also clearly looked to the kingdom of God as future. He spoke of how we should receive it when it comes as little children (Mark 10:15). He spoke of the quality of righteousness it will take to enter God’s kingdom when it comes, far exceeding the righteousness of the holiest people in Jesus’ day (Matt. 5:19-20). He urged us to seek it more earnestly than we seek food and clothing: “[S]trive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things [i.e., food and clothing] will be given to you as well” (Matt. 6:33). Above all, he urged us to pray for it: “Your kingdom come” (Matt. 6:10), implying that it hasn’t fully come yet.

The Transfiguration was a “preview of coming attractions” for the three disciples that were with Jesus on the mountaintop. All three of the Synoptic gospels precede the Transfiguration account with a puzzling saying of Jesus that some who were standing with him at the time would not “taste death” until they had seen (and here the Gospels differ) “the Son of man coming in his kingdom” (Mt 16:28), “the kingdom of God come with power” (Mk 9:1) or simply “the kingdom of God” (Lk 9:27).The meaning of this saying is debated, but one distinct possibility is that Jesus is talking about the Transfiguration, that happens a few verses later. As Jesus walked the earth, he was an ordinary human being, but in the transfiguration, Peter, James and John saw Jesus as he truly was. As one of the New Testament letters attributed to Peter explains:

… we did not follow cleverly devised myths when we made known to you the power and coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, but we had been eyewitnesses of his majesty. For he received honor and glory from God the Father when that voice was conveyed to him by the Majestic Glory, saying, “This is my Son, my Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” We ourselves heard this voice come from heaven, while we were with him on the holy mountain (2 Pe 1:16–18).

So, in the Transfiguration, Peter, James and John saw the future kingdom coming in power and glory.
How can the reign of God be both here now and coming in the future? Well, the real key to understanding what Jesus meant by the “kingdom” or “reign” of God lies in the stories he told, his parables. The reign of God, he said, is like seed planted in the ground. It’s there right now, growing silently, we don’t know how. But one day, there’s the harvest, and we put in the sickle and reap the fully-grown crop. The reign of God is like a net, sunk down in the water. The net is there, but we can’t see it. Pull it in and it’s full of fish. It’s like the yeast that a woman hid in three measures of flour. You can’t hear it or see it, but the dough rises and it’s time to bake it. So God’s reign is hidden, but it’s really there. It will fully come in the future. 

There’s very little in the paper or the evening news on TV that would lead us to suspect that the kingdom of God is here at all. What we look for and what we pray for is that what is hidden from all eyes except the eye of faith will become visible, manifest, effective, actual, and real. Here’s the important point—the hidden presence guarantees that it will eventually arrive. It’s a sure thing. You can no more keep the kingdom of God from coming than you can keep seeds from sprouting or bread from rising. 

If with the eye of faith we’re to look for signs of the hidden presence of the kingdom of God, what are they? If our prayer for the coming of God’s kingdom will one day be answered, what will that answer look like? A key passage is Luke 6:20-26. The poor will be living the good life and the rich will have only memories. Those who are hungry now will be full and those who are full now will be hungry. Those who weep will laugh and those who laugh will mourn. The reign of God is the Great Reversal. The last will be first; the first will be last. Children will teach grown-ups. Servants will be the great ones. Sinners will go into God’s realm ahead of the religious big shots. Those who exalt themselves will be humbled and those who humble themselves will be exalted. Not those who were powerful, but those who served the outsiders—the hungry, the thirsty, the strangers, the sick, the prisoners—will inherit God’s kingdom. 

Hey, I know this is radical! The test of the kingdom of God is the poor. This isn’t because the poor are especially moral, but simply because of who they are, mostly women and children, victims of abuse, war, hunger, injustice. When their oppression stops, the rule of God will be here. The kingdom of God comes through the poor and in opposition to poverty, which will have no place in it.

It should be evident by now that the kingdom of God doesn’t look at all like our earthly political arrangements, where the strong overpower the weak and the rich dominate the poor. It doesn’t justify domination and injustice; it judges them. To pray “Your kingdom come” isn’t to bless the status quo but to cry out to God for something very, very different. It’s a revolutionary act. To pray “Your kingdom come” is to refuse to give to any earthly political order the loyalty that belongs only to God.

“Your kingdom come” is above all a prayer of great hope. We pray this way because the kingdom of God will come. That’s why we attempt to live by Jesus' demanding ethic, which isn’t appropriate to the world we live in but utterly appropriate to the world we hope for. We pray night and day, “Your kingdom come,” because this is one petition where all those promises about expecting the answer are definitely true. The kingdom of God is already here, and in God's time it will come in the fullness of its power and glory.

Stay warm, my friends.

Me, too, Paul!

I suppose there are some who would accuse Paul and me of being socialists. If so, so be it! Just so you put "democratic" in front of it, since I believe that the economy and society should be structured to meet human needs, not to make profits for a few. Now that I think about it, this sounds like some stuff I've read in a book called "the Bible."

No One Is Pro-Abortion . . .

 

Here’s an article I found enlightening. I commend it to you. [ADVANCE WARNING: I am pro-choice. If you don't want to hear it, don't read it.]

In light of the 40th anniversary of the Supreme Court decision legalizing abortion; the case is again being made by “pro-life” groups and individuals that the issue is about saving the lives of the innocent, unborn. Their most egregious taunt is calling pro-choice individuals “pro-abortion.”

No one is pro-abortion. We are pro-women’s health. Health as defined by the World Health Organization:  ”Health is a state of complete physical, mental and social well-being and not merely the absence of disease or infirmity.” Access to safe and legal abortion and education, and access to contraception is a worldwide women’s health issue….

 
More . . .

My Comment Policy

So far, no one has commented on my blog posts. This is disappointing to me, because I really do want to know what you think about my blog posts. However, there are some guidelines and understandings that will be helpful if you wish to engage in any discourse here. They have been unishamedly stolen from an experienced blogger, Bruce Reyes-Chow, at his invitation, in his extremely useful book, The Definitive-ish Guide for Using Social Media in the Church (Shook Foil Books. Kindle Edition).

First and foremost, like Bruce, my blog is a place I call home, a place where I hope to provide hospitality to strangers, friends, and family. Being my home, I feel that it is not only my obligation to keep you well fed, but also to keep it emotionally and spiritually safe for all those who enter. After hanging out a bit, it is my hope that you will at some point be challenged, comforted, intrigued, cared for, and on occasion given reason to give a deep exhale or a loud and hearty guffaw! Like a worship service or a big ole’ gathering around the dinner table, it is my hope that we can fully experience the joys of being the complex, creative, and amazing people God has made us to be.

But there are some lines that shan’t be crossed in my church or in my home. My lines may be further out there than some, but make no mistake . . . they are there. Here are a few to keep in mind should you want to stay a part of this particular house party.

Your comments MAY be deleted if . . .

• I SAY SO   While I will not play this card unless you REALLY violate some of the other guidelines below, I do reserve the right to delete comments, block users, and otherwise ask you to leave until such time as we can repair our relationship and come to some mutual understanding of blog behavior. There are consequences, my friends!

• YOU ARE RATED R+   PG-13 is the goal, people. Go easy on the swears. I don’t have all that many kids reading my blog, but I dislike it. Please only use profanity when there is no other way to express your feeling. And kindly use the cute little symbols up there by your number keys – @# $% ^& – to replace actual letters.

• YOU ARE A MEANY McMEANY   I understand that being “nasty and mean” to one person is “speaking the truth in love” to another, but I reserve the right to delete any and all comments that I have deemed unhelpful, mean-spirited, vindictive, violent, sexual, or otherwise inappropriately personal in nature.

• YOU DROP SPAM HERE   Really, hocking your wares on someone’s blog?!?!?   Now I don’t mind if it has something to do with the post, but make it personal, make it relevant, and don’t make it seem like you are some automatic spybot with a horrible English translation feature. Off-topic posts of any kind will be deemed spam.

• YOU ARE TOO ANONYMOUS   While I understand that some folks need to stay anonymous because of work, family, etc., be aware that when assessing a comment I will ask the question, “Is this a real person who is willing to share their opinions with some accountability?” This means that anonymous, unlinked comments will probably be deleted if there is any question about their validity or helpfulness to the discourse.

• YOU SHOULD KNOW BETTER   My worship service or my home is not a place to be a jerk, not take responsibility for your words, act a fool, be stupid, or otherwise disrespect the space for discourse and growth the blogosphere is meant to be. If you are new to the blog world and are learning the culture that is one thing, but being intentionally destructive will not be tolerated.

Stay warm, my friends.

The Lord’s Prayer: “Hallowed Be Your Name”

The Lord's Prayer, we’ve said, is made up of requests—six of them. The last three are for us: our bread, our sins, our times of trial. But the first three are for God: God's name, God's kingdom, God's will.

The first of the three God-petitions concerns God’s name. What can we possibly mean by the name of God? If we can get at God's fatherhood from the analogy of human fatherhood, maybe we can get at God's name from the analogy of human names. What does it mean that you have a name?

For one thing, it means that you’re a person, not a thing. Think of the difference between meeting someone whose name you don’t know from meeting someone whose name you know. The whole feel of things is different, isn’t it? We can address them, and they can address us. We’re aware of each other’s dignity and worth. If God has a name, we think about God as though God were another person. Our encounters with God are personal confrontations: our dignity, worth, and freedom meet God's surpassing dignity, worth, and freedom, and we will never be the same again.

To have a name also means to have a secret. Strangers can’t learn your name unless you or somebody who knows you tells them. Just so, there are some things you can find or figure out about God, but if you want to know God's name—if you want to know who God really is—God has to tell you, or somebody who really knows God has to tell you.

To have a name is, first, to be a person; second, to have a secret; and, third, to have a story. To those who’ve watched you grow up and have lived with you, the whole story of your life is captured in your name. Your name was given you at birth by your parents. But that name now has a content you have given it by the story of your life.

So God's name gets its content from God's story. In the Moses story in Exodus, God's name gets its content from the fact that God is the God of Israel's ancestors, of Abraham and Sarah, of Isaac and Rebekah, of Jacob and Rachel and Leah. That’s what’s behind those mysterious words, "I am that I am." This is the final truth about God's name. What the story tells us, what God has shown himself to be to our fathers and mothers, what God revealed himself to be in Jesus Christ—that’s what God is and that’s what God will be; that’s God's name.

Now then, “Hallowed be your name.” “Hallowed” is just a fancy way of saying holy. “Holy” means "separate, different, other." "Hallowed be your name" then means "May God's name be treated differently from all other names. May God's name be respected and honored as no other name." There are two distinct aspects in the hallowing of God's name.

The first aspect concerns God's being, the way God is God. God's being is totally different, wholly other. There is no way we can print "human" in such big letters that it turns into DIVINE. There’s no way we can shout "humanity" so loudly that the echo comes back GOD.

Maybe that’s too theoretical. The holiness of God's being may become more vivid to us if we look at some typical human reactions to an encounter with "the Holy."

Have you ever experienced a sense of the awesomeness of God? Have you ever felt the
un-approachableness of God? God said to Moses, “Come no closer! Remove the sandals from your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground” (Ex. 3:5). Have you ever found any holy ground in your life?

Have you ever experienced a sense of the overpowering-ness of God? Isaiah saw the Lord high and lifted up and heard the creatures gathered around God’s throne cry "Holy, holy, holy," and he cried, “Woe is me! I am lost” (Isaiah 6:3, 5). Have you ever felt that way before the holiness of God?

Have you ever felt silenced by a sense of God’s mystery, a sense that God strikes in upon you from outside the realm of the familiar and the understandable, that God is strange and alien and other? And were you in that instant struck dumb in amazement?

Finally, have you ever experienced a sense of the fascination of God? Despite the awesomeness and the overpowering-ness and the mystery of God, have you been intrigued, curious, strongly attracted to God?

When we experience both the dread that keeps us away from God and the fascination that draws us irresistibly toward God—when we experience that double movement even in the faintest way—we know something of the holiness of God. That holiness isn’t in our feelings but in God. As Al Winn says, “Our feelings are shadows cast by the burning light of God's holiness.”

In the first instance, then, "Hallowed be your name" is a request that the holiness of God's being—God's secret, the fullness of who God is—may be seen and felt and reverenced in the earth.

But there’s another aspect in the hallowing of God's name. What God does is holy as well as who God is. God is uniquely and radically good. A God whose actions are unblemished by wrong is a holy God. A God who loves justice and hates evil is a holy God.

In the Bible, God's holiness involves special concern for the powerless and the dispossessed. God’s people are to see that the powerless and the dispossessed receive justice—that will be their holiness. The holiness of who God is separates God from God's people; the holiness of what God does is a link with God's people. God’s people are to act the same way God does. This link with God makes them separate, different, other from the surrounding peoples. They are now a holy people.

In the second instance, then, when we say, "Hallowed be your name," we’re asking that the holiness of God’s actions may be demonstrated on earth by the actions of the people of God—that God's justice and mercy, which are also part of God's name, may be seen in us. We are asking that we who bear God's name may not by our injustice and lack of mercy bring shame and disgrace on it.

To pray “Hallowed be your name" is to acknowledge that we live in a world where the name of God isn’t hallowed. To pray “Hallowed be your name" is to call for the restoration of the sacred in a secular world, for the recapture of reverence in an irreverent world—starting with us.

Father in heaven, hallowed be your name! Amen.

Stay warm, my friends.