We’re all familiar with it. It was probably the first prayer we ever learned to prayer. Maybe we heard it recited with ritual regularity from our parents before bed. Maybe we memorized it in Sunday School or AWANAS. The Lord’s Prayer is one of those passages that brings the comfort of nostalgia and familiarity. It’s what we know…the rhythm, the cadence, the simplistic beauty of a prayer straight from the lips of Jesus himself as he taught his disciples how to pray.

There’s the rub. It is familiar. Perhaps too familiar. Many of us could instantly recite the Lord’s prayer from memory at a moment’s notice. It’s baked into our brains, networked into the neurons and synapses, a neuro-pathway straight into our spiritual memories. And like with anything too familiar, we easily lose sight of the significance of the words we say. Like a hymn sung too often, we begin to recite it in automation, our minds unconsciously churning on other things. Few are ardently self-discipline enough to focus their attention and meditate on each line, each phrase, each word, considering its meaning and significance.

But we must. That’s what it is the believe in inspiration, or as theologians call it, plenary verbal inspiration, which is a technical way of saying that all of the Bible, both in the macro and the micro, at a book level and a word level, is from God himself. Every word matters. Every word is intentional. It matters whether Jesus used one word instead of another. It matters whether he used a passive verb instead of an active. It matters. The call of Psalm 1:2—“but he delights in the law of Yahweh, and on his law he meditates day and night”—is a call to treat Scripture like every word matters.

Our Father in heaven,
Let your name be sanctified.
Let your kingdom come,
Let your will be realized
Even on earth, just as in heaven.

When we do that even with these first few lines of the Lord’s Prayer, we are confronted with questions we often fail to ask ourselves. Who is it that you pray to when you pray? What is your relationship to him? What is his name, and how willing are you to make his name look glorious and marvelous? Are you willing to give up your possessions for the reputation of his name? How about your life? How about the lives of your family if he asks it of you? Do you really mean what you say when you pray for God to set his name apart in your life?

And then there’s the prayer for the kingdom. This is what sparked these questions in my mind, because I’m convinced many if not most of us fail to understand the full implications of muttering the simple words, “Let your kingdom come.” We say it so quickly and efficiently. It takes only a solitary second to roll off the tongue, but it comes with a staggering amount of baggage. This phrase, packaged so neatly in four Greek words, encapsulates the entirety of all the hopes and fears of every individual on the planet.

It’s a call for the final battle, when the world conspires together to finally bring an end to the Jewish people…to finish what was attempted by the likes of Haman in Esther’s time (cf. Esther 3:6), or Adolf Hitler in the 20^th century. They will gather around the city of Jerusalem, the armies of the world, drawn by greed and hatred, and intent on murder and mayhem. They breach the walls and enter the city, pillaging each house and leisurely dividing up the spoils in the streets. Women are raped, children are killed, and thousands of others are carted off as trophies of victory. Only a remnant in the city remains, trapped by the gathering armies flowing into the city. They retreat to the east quarter, perhaps clambering their way down the steep terrain on the east side of the temple mount as they descend into the valley below.

But even there, they are not safe. Armies are coming, called by some instinctual beckoning, except that it’s the Lord who gathers them, gathering them for the final battle (Ezek 38; Zech 14:2). He draws them in to the Kidron valley between the temple mount and the Mount of Olives. The remnant is truly out of options. Compressed from behind and on each side, they look upon the Mount of Olives, the great geological obstacle blocking any escape. They are about to die.

But then something happens. Something truly unexpected. But it shouldn’t be, really. It was something foretold centuries before when the disciples stood gazing up at the sky in astonished perplexity as they watched Jesus ascend into the clouds: “Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking into heaven? This Jesus, who was taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw him go into heaven” (Acts 1:11). And so he does.

He descends from the clouds, a host of angelic warriors accompanying him. The lights go out. The sun, which was at that time shining brightly suddenly fails, plunging the earth into darkness (Matt 24:29-30; Zech 14:3, 6; cf. Isa 13:10; Joel 2:10; 3:10). Yet at the same time, there is a light emanating from Christ himself—his glorious presence shining brightly yet at the same time hidden by the darkness in a strange paradoxical demonstration of his glory, both revealed and concealed (cf. Isa 60:1-3, 19-20). So he descends, and as his feet land on the summit of the Mount of Olives, the earth begins to shake. Violent tremors rip across the land. There has never been such an earthquake (Ezek 38:19-20; Zech 14:3-4). Before their eyes, the cowering remnant watches as the entire mountain edifice before them begins to break apart.

Meanwhile, the armies watch this blazon display. They watch as their huddled prey begins to make an escape, meandering their way through the valley cut straight through the Mount of Olives by the earthquake. Blind with malice and undeterred, they pursue them into this valley. But they are blind. They do not know that they are entering what the prophet Joel has called “the Valley of Jehoshaphat”—the valley of Yahweh’s judgment (Joel 3:2).

Now the Lord is on a horse—a white horse. His eyes sparkle with radiant light like fire. A multifaceted crown adorns his head, and a robe is draped about him, the hem of which is stained the color of blood (cf. Rev 19:11-13). The army accompanying him is also mounted, and from the heights of the Mount of Olives they descend upon the armies below with supernatural speed and ferocity. Confusion and panic ensue. Soldiers begin to slay each other in the mayhem. Others contract rapid septic infection that ravages their flesh in seconds (Zech 14:12). The angelic army descends with swords blazing. Each swipe passes through flesh. Bodies fall continuously. The leadership of this army is captured with immediate plans to exile into an eternal lake of fire (cf. Rev 19:20).

The carnage is swift and complete. The vast armies which had just hours before posed the single greatest existential threat to Israel has ever seen in human history now lie dead in the valley. Horses and men are stacked in thick columns. Rivers of blood flow in deep channels (Rev 14:20), and birds begin to gather and gorge themselves on the flesh of the millions of corpses (Rev 19:21; cf. Ezek 39:17-20). There has never been a battle like this in human history. The estimated 25 million military deaths of WWII pale in comparison.

In the days and months following the battle, the small remnant of Israel come face to face with their Messiah. They see him now for who he is. Their eyes are open. Whereas they saw a criminal, whose death was justified by his sins, now they see what they have done. They crucified their own king. They thought he was being punished by God, but now they see the truth: he was being punished for them. Thus, the nation enters a state of mourning like they’ve never had before (cf. Zech 12:10-14; Isa 53; Rev 1:3).

They also begin the process of cleaning up the land following this immense battle. Corpses are gathered and buried, and weapons are piled and destroyed. There are so many weapons that is will take seven years to destroy them all (Ezek 39:9-10).

But something is changed. The world is decidedly different. The prayer that Jesus taught his disciples to pray has at last been realized. God’s name is fully sanctified. His kingdom has come. His will is now done finally and completely on earth as it has eternally been done in heaven. Zechariah says it best: “And Yahweh will be king over all the earth. On that day Yahweh will be one and his name one” (Zech 14:8). He takes his place on the throne of David in Jerusalem, and he rules his earthly kingdom with the church and with his finally-restored people, Israel. There is peace at last. There is joy at last. There is forgiveness and cleansing flowing from the throne. The land is transformed. There is fertility and beauty where there was once only desert (Isa 35:2). Jerusalem becomes the most prominent mountain of the region (Zech 14:10). The city is the literal center of the universe (Isa 2:2-4; Mic 4:1-5), and every nation will know him and worship him (cf. Zech 14:16-21). Peter finally gets the answer to his question: “Lord, will you at this time restore the kingdom to Israel?” (Acts 11:6). The answer is yes. God’s kingdom has finally come.

That’s what you’re asking for when you pray the opening lines of the Lord’s prayer. Wrapped up in this succinct prayer is the end of all things, the rape of women, and the death of millions and millions of people. Of course we don’t want those things, but they come with the package. But it also means that Christ is seen for who he really is. It means that “the Lord will be King not only in heaven, but recognized as King of earth as well. He will be King not only de jure (by right), but de facto (in fact)” (Feinberg, 169). It means that at last every knee will bow at his name and every tongue will finally confess that Jesus Christ is Lord (Phil 2:10-11). 

So should this make us pause before we pray this prayer? Not me. I echo John’s words at the end of Revelation when he says, “He who testifies to these things says, ‘Surely I am coming soon.’ Amen. Come, Lord Jesus!” (Rev 22:20). I don’t have a moment’s hesitation in praying this prayer. It is, after all, the prayer that Jesus used to instruct his disciples in how to pray. But it does make me think about what I’m asking for when I pray it. And it should for you as well. Because if God will do all of this at the coming of his Son to rule and to reign, what might he do if we dare pray for him to make his name hallowed in our lives? Surely we better mean that as much as we mean all the rest.

“But the Lord said to him, ‘Go, for he is a chosen instrument of mine to carry my name before the Gentiles and kings and the children of Israel. For I will show him how much he must suffer for the sake of my name.’” (Acts 9:15-16)