Our Father

The prayer which is often referred to as the “Our Father” lends itself to considerable scrutiny, if only because Jesus himself told us to pray “like” it. Notice that He didn’t say “exactly” like it. Did He mean to use these precise words, or did He want us to express these ideas in our own words? I suppose we’ll never know, but it seems that this prayer has come down through the ages to us as pretty near perfect, so “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” I wonder how we could pray the same thoughts in different words? Should we? Certainly the most eye-catching expression in the entire composition is the first: “OUR FATHER.” How utterly incomprehensible that the Creator of the universe—of ALL other universes—considers us his children, and that we—all humans—are his family. Let that roll around in your consciousness for a spell. We are all in his FAMILY, bound together by his love. Bask in THAT and ask yourself if you really believe it? If so, what difference does it make in our daily lives, work, and relationships? Puts a new slant on “brother” and “sister,” doesn’t it?
Come to think of it, Jesus’s word for “father” is “abba,” meaning ‘Daddy.” Wouldn’t you like to crawl up onto your daddy’s lap and bask in his wisdom and love? Why don’t you?

Me No Response

When I lived in Jamaica in the 70’s, I often heard the common excuse, “me no response.” [read that “I’m not responsible”]. That came to mind when we participated in a baptism recently: at the bottom of page 304 in our Book of Common Prayer we find “Will you persevere in resisting evil, and whenever you fall into sin, repent and return to the Lord?” This question is asked by the priest of the candidates AND the congregation. That’s us!
Since that sneaky little adverb is “whenever,” not “if,” the assumption is that we WILL fall into sin [i.e., separation from God]. Really FALL. As I reflect on the 86 years of my Christian walk, I’m hard put to it to identify ever FALLING into sin. I didn’t trip or topple. I wasn’t pushed or dragged. I actually made a decision to enter into something sinful. When denial was operating, I CHOSE to ignore the evidence. I can’t really blame you—or anyone else—for my actions. I did it. Me. On purpose. Denial might have salved my conscience for a time, but way down deep inside, in that little space no one else can enter, I knew—and I knew that I knew. No matter how hard I wanted to shift the responsibility, if I were to look at the situation honestly, I couldn’t claim “me no response.”
What do you think? Can you?