When we use the words Jesus taught us, as handed down over generations, we think of you as far away, in a place we cannot see, but can only imagine.
We acknowledge that your name is “hallowed,” that it is special beyond human measure and whole in ways we cannot be, worthy of our respect and our worship and our commitment.
We pray for your kingdom to come on this earth, for your will to be done, as we imagine it must be in heaven. It might be more of a picture we wish for than what you actually want, but we pray for it.
We ask for our daily bread. That’s seems simple enough, although we may forget it speaks to necessities and not the extras we love.
And then it comes, the phrase we speed through for we are nearly at the end:
Forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors.
There is no way to feel it fully, to think it through completely, while saying those nine short words out loud. Forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors.
Jesus tells us, plainly, that one depends on the other. If we want to be forgiven, we must forgive. But we would rather race ahead and ask you to protect us from temptation, to keep us save from evil.
Today we will not speed through the words.
The commonwealth of love,
and the power beyond human measure,
and the glory transcending our understanding
are all yours, forever and ever. Amen.