Making the LORD’s PRAYER My Own

The sacred prayer flows from my lips regularly

In private prayer

At a hospital bedside

The benediction of worship

Today, its power feels lost to me.


A recycled prayer that has spun too long on the delicate cycle.

Like Jacob’s jiu jitsu with the divine, I grab this high priestly prayer and refuse to yield.

I will not let you go unless you bless me

Words take on skin and sinew; speaking through me as my own at last:

Your name is so sacred I’ll just call you my Father who dwells above.

May earth be just like heaven; may we all act at the impulse of your command.

Feed me, and my family.

Forgive me, but only in proportion to my forgiving toward others.

Direct me away from whatever would cause me to act in defiance or distrust toward you.

When the Enemy catches on that I won’t step into his bear traps or fall into his tiger traps,

Save me from his direct assault.

You can do these things I ask because your throne governs both heaven and earth.

All power comes from you.

Therefore you alone are worthy of honor and my praise.

I brag on you for your sake and not mine.