I realize, God, that I don’t know exactly what hallowed means. And so for all the years I’ve been praying this prayer, I’m not sure I understand, exactly.

So does it mean that you want me to ask you to keep your name special and set apart? Does it mean that you want me to affirm that your name is special, to affirm that I don’t take lightly the fact that I get to call you Father? Does it mean, we ask you that your name will always be kept holy?

Because I want to affirm that, I really do. But I have to acknowledge that I sometimes take for granted that I’m actually talking to You.  I mean, I just starting talking as if you aren’t God.

It’s not that you don’t want relationship. It’s not that you don’t invite me to a conversational relationship. It’s more that I start talking as if you couldn’t do anything about what is going on. Complaining without remembering that I’m not talking to the complaint department, I’m talking to the owner directly. Venting to a friend who has also suffered without remembering that you are the friend with really big muscles. Whining without asking. Asking without believing. Believing without doing. Doing instead of trusting.

There are always shades of not remembering that you are holy, pure, not confined to my motives. And yet, you aren’t waiting to trap me in my misstatements, you are wanting to help me remember.

David almost always got this right. In his prayers he would complain or lament or identify the problem, but he would always come back to acknowledging you.

“How long will you forget me Lord” at the beginning of Psalm 13 becomes “Then I will sing to the Lord because he was so good to me.”

So help me remember who you are and why that can encourage me.

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This reflection, written several years ago, is included in Learning a New Routine: Reading the Sermon on the Mount a little bit at a time.