Lord, teach us to see.


The follower of Jesus that struggles with prayer is never alone. Neither is he far from a fellow struggler. Truth be told, it may be the most common struggle among us. Hence, the request of the disciples of Jesus to “teach us to pray.”  Who better to teach them (and us) to pray than Jesus himself?

And so He began, “Our Father in heaven…”  

These four words elicit an almost Pavlovian response in those of us reared in traditional churches.  Faster than Pavlov’s dogs can begin to drool, “Hallowed be thy name” flashes to our minds and scrolls to our lips. And as the prayer goes, so goes our recollection of it until we have reached the end.  Like an unmanned locomotive that always reaches the same destination: “…but deliver us from evil.”

The recitation can be so automatic that the weight of those first four words never has a chance to settle in.  And yet they are the key to all that follows.  

Our Father. Or Abba as Jesus referred to Him in the garden. This specific term of endearment and intimacy may have been new with Jesus, but the Father has always longed to be known as Father to His children.  For them to see Him and know Him both intimately and personally — as a father knows his child, and a child knows her father.  

“But now, O LORD, you are our Father;
we are the clay, and you are our potter;
we are all the work of your hand.”  (Isaiah 64:8)

“But to all who did receive Him, who believed in His name, 
He gave the right to become children of God…”  (John 1:12)

Our Father.  His children.  And yet our perception of God often falls far short of what He would desire.

At the outset, Jesus reminds us that we have a Father in the truest sense of the word — and that He is a Father who is above all things and over all things.  He is our Father in heaven.  As Jesus fulfilled all that Adam failed to do as a child of God, so our heavenly Father longs to fulfill in us that in which every human father is bound to fail at some point in time. Seeing us perfectly.  Loving us fully.  Motivated purely.  Angered but for a moment.  Full of grace and mercy.  Abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness.  Speaking only and ever in wisdom.  Always working for our good.

This is the Father to whom we come.  The Father whose love beckons us to his throne of grace. Oh, that we would see Him as He is!

We would do well to allow the Lord to teach us to pray.  But we would do better yet to allow Him to teach us to see. To see Him.  Then will we come with anticipation and expectation, with a sense of both intimacy and reverence, with confidence and comfort, and begin to pray, “Our Father…”