Meditations on The Prayer
I grew up in a liturgical church where certain things never changed. The hymns varied. The readings followed the calendar. But one moment was always the same: every Sunday, the congregation rose to say the Lord’s Prayer together.
Week after week, year after year, it was always there. I memorized it early, and like many children, I could recite the entire thing in under fifteen seconds. It became familiar, almost automatic. When I thought of the Lord’s Prayer, it flashed through my mind as one solid, polished sentence—important, yes, but distant. Mysterious, and largely unexplored.
As a young adult, I began to catch brief glimpses of something more—like flashes of light beneath the surface of deep water. There were moments when I thought, There’s something here… something great. But the prayer still slipped by too quickly.
It Hit Me
Then, one day—and I don’t even remember where or why—I decided to slow down. I read the Lord’s Prayer phrase by phrase, word by word. Whether it was a sermon or a speaker who nudged me in that direction, I can’t say. But what I can say is this: when I finally paused and paid attention, the ground gave way.
My first response wasn’t particularly holy; it was more like: “Oh crap.”
Not exactly the language of saints, I know. But it was that gut-level jolt of realization—like when you look over the edge of the Grand Canyon and your knees go weak. Or when you’re standing in a quiet forest and suddenly notice a massive animal watching you. You feel tiny, breathless, undone. Not because something is wrong—but because something is far greater than you imagined.
That was how the Lord’s Prayer hit me.
Big Fish! Big Fish!
It reminded me of a day years ago when we took our kids to Sea World. We watched the orcas—giant, majestic creatures. One of them launched out of the water, soaring high, and landed with a tremendous splash not far from where we sat. My son, just a toddler, was frozen—overwhelmed and unsure whether to scream or cheer. We looked at him and smiled, trying to help him process it all: “Big fish! Big fish!” And then he smiled too.
Sometimes I think God does the same with us.
When we finally see something in His Word that takes our breath away, I imagine Him smiling and whispering, “Big prayer. Big prayer.”
Gigantic and Awe-Inspiring
Because that’s what the Lord’s Prayer is: not a quick recitation or a religious habit, but a vast, sweeping, awe-filled entrance into the presence of God. It is a prayer big enough to hold all of life- our longings, our failures, our daily needs, our hopes for the world, and our worship of the One who made it.
Since that day I slowed down, the Lord’s Prayer has never felt the same for me. It no longer takes fifteen seconds; sometimes it takes fifteen minutes, and at times an hour. Occasionally, I don’t get past the first line.
It’s profound. It’s multifaceted. It’s vast. And yes, sometimes it’s frightening—because to pray sincerely is to open yourself to the purposes of God.
That’s why I’ve written this short series of meditations on the Lord’s Prayer. Not to explain it line by line as a scholar would, but to invite you in. I aim to help you dip your toes into deep and turbulent waters—waters that may sweep you off your feet and carry you further than you expected.
But I believe they will carry you safely to a shoreline that resembles the kingdom of heaven.
May God guide you and surprise you as you begin.
AI Assistance: I wrote most of this article; then Alex (ChatGPT, OpenAI) and I discussed it. After that, I had Alex restructure and rewrite it as a general blog, which greatly improved it. I reviewed, adjusted, and finally ran the article through Grammarly, enhancing its clarity and readability even further.