“Our Father who art in heaven,” I begin to say
with a heart full of hate.
“Our Father,” a person maternal to us all?
Does that mean you want to see me thrive
Just as much as the boy who treats the girl
With the shady past as a walking matt for his pride?
“Who,” who are you?
The man who came to lift eyes,
To strengthen legs, to turn water into wine
Are you the “who” who forgot about my healing?
“Art in Heaven,” but can you see me?
Little, insecure person of the “I am,”
miles and miles away
From the clouds that which you reign
Did you forget? Have you tuned me out?
“Hallowed be thy name,” I mutter from a set of lips
too tired to proclaim the truth that you deserve because
“Hallowed,” is my chest
as I run out of breath to keep up
with this prayer
and with the voices that surround me.
“Be,” be this. But be that.
Be someone who inspires you
But don’t be what she is because
Being is a scale you rise up to.
“thy Name,” is the one I both
worship and curse in the course of
a Monday and I’m forgetting
that Your Name holds the weight.
“Thy kingdom come,” I whisper between two phrases
I question all too often.
“Thy,” the God three in one,
but do all three of you
view me the same?
“Kingdom,” looks different to him
than it does for me
and I just don’t know what to envision.
“Come,” Lord Jesus come, I sing
but please check my punishment at the door
because I don’t think I can face what I truly deserve.
“Thy will be done,” falls off my lips
but this phrase, do I actually mean it?
“Thy will,” but will I prevail?
Does your will include a safety net
Secure enough to hold the burden
Of all my messed-up years?
“Be done,” be done with me
because I have destroyed your name
and brought nothing but shame to the
Father of a daughter with scars.
“On Earth as it is in Heaven,” I say in a way
that is hopeful of something deemed impossible.
“On Earth,” a place filled with
torment and lust,
trafficking and drugs
we mere dust have already failed you.
“As it is,” where you are
but my vision is so clouded
I can’t even picture what lies
Beyond the stars.
“In heaven,” where you stand,
where you look down on me
and not just because of the distance
“Give us this day our daily bread,”
I mutter as my hands instinctively reach
For loaves to last until next Tuesday.
“Give us,” I say as I wait for you to set the table
while I chase at your ankles.
Could you move a bit faster now Jesus?
“This day,” I remember is a gift.
But I will spend my 24 hours preparing for the next 72
Only to find rest when the next 408 are through.
God, do you have 17 loaves ready for me now?
“Our,” I question. So, you’re telling me
that I have to share?
“Daily bread,” I whisper because I know that if
you gave me 17, I wouldn’t see you for the next
18 days. You see, because I only know how to take.
“And forgive us our trespasses,” I moan, because
I’m just trying to check the boxes.
“Forgive” and forget,
a pair that too often is celebrated
but don’t you dare think I’ve truly
forgotten the pain my sister has caused me.
“Us” a family; one that
I’ve brought shame and humiliation to
Because although he acts differently than me
I’m not treating him equally.
“Trespasses” not just the soil of
the hearts I’ve trampled over,
or the land of her hurt I’ve ignored,
but even the places I haven’t sown love.
“As we forgive those who trespass against us,” I pass over
because I have already forgotten what it means.
“As we forgive” but can we?
Does that include the boy who ridiculed
Me for the size of my jeans
And the girl who whispers when I turn away?
“Those who” yes!
That’s what I mean!
God it’s them and not me.
“Trespass against us” but
here I am, and there they are
the only thing in common is our hurt
and the battleground where we stand.
“And lead us not into temptation,” my voice confirms
as my shoulders shrink down in self-disgust
“And lead us not” to the things that feel good
past ten PM or to the addiction
I won’t admit that I have
“Into temptation” that my generation has said
is easily forgiven with the bending of a knee
and the folding of my hands and the words
that truly don’t understand your grace.
“But deliver us from evil,” I shout because
I know what this one means!
“But deliver” me to the heavenly gates
ones that will sing glorious praises
with white robes, and clouds where
surely my savior awaits.
“Us,” I say but what does that mean
for me and you and her to call ourselves
“From evil,” that is stealing and murder
and the other eight from the stone, but also comparison
envy, lust, and the doubt of Your Son that I’ve shown.
“For thine is the kingdom,” a verse I quickly state
to a rhythm that doesn’t allow for me to understand it’s weight.
“For thine,” is that you?
Are you the one tugging me away from
Comfortability and things that I say are good?
“Is the kingdom,” one I haven’t yet
put my allegiance in fully,
is it my fault I don’t understand
my own inheritance?
“And the power,” but where are you at?
“And the glory,” what does that look like?
“Forever,” will you be there?
“And ever,” do you hear me?
God just please give me something.