The question that needs to be asked (though seldom is, because we are too quick to assume we know the answer) is, ‘Whose Father?’ Our instinct is to say, ‘ours’ in the sense of those who believe in the Lord Jesus Christ and have received his gift of salvation. After all, did not the apostle John say, ‘…to all who received him [Christ], to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to be called the children of God’ (Jn 1.12). Undoubtedly this is true: this prayer is the family prayer of the people of God. But is there not more to it?

Although the Lord’s Prayer is without question the best-known prayer the world has ever known, because it is the Lord’s Prayer we shouldn’t be surprised that it will continue to fill us with surprises until we see him face to face.

This is true, in part, experientially. Prayer is the heart-cry of the child of God; but we will only truly cry from the heart when we truly appreciate the depth of our needs as God’s children. Often it is only when God takes us out of our depth and beyond our natural limits that the words he himself has put on our lips in prayer begin to resonate with us in fresh ways.

There are, however, other surprises embedded in the language of this precious gift Christ has given his people. One of the greatest is the pronoun with which it begins: ‘Our Father…’ The question that needs to be asked (though seldom is, because we are too quick to assume we know the answer) is, ‘Whose Father?’

Our instinct is to say, ‘ours’ in the sense of those who believe in the Lord Jesus Christ and have received his gift of salvation. After all, did not the apostle John say, ‘…to all who received him [Christ], to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to be called the children of God’ (Jn 1.12). Undoubtedly this is true: this prayer is the family prayer of the people of God. But is there not more to it?

There are certain clues elsewhere in the gospel record that should make us pause for thought before rushing on into the rest of the prayer at this point.

One is quite simply that the opening form of address Jesus puts on the lips of his children in these words is a direct echo of how he himself addressed the Father. In the hour of his own greatest need, in Gethsemane, Jesus cried out, ‘Abba, Father, everything is possible for you. Take this cup from me. Yet, not what I will, but what you will’ (Mk 14.36). Confronted by the awfulness of Calvary, in the genuineness of his humanity and the struggles of his truly human mind, as the incarnate Son he reached for the most intimate form of address available to him as he prayed.

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