As I’ve mentioned, I’ve been re-reading Chris Lowney’s, Heroic Living. The following passage hit me much more strongly this time than on my first reading and made me feel decidedly uncomfortable… which is a good thing.
“Our Father. . . thy kingdom come.” Few phrases are uttered so widely or so regularly. Democrats pray it, as do Republicans; so do Red Sox fans and Yankees fans, Catholics and Pentecostals.
Rwandan Hutus prayed for the kingdom to come, as did the Tutsi neighbors they later butchered so savagely. Belfast’s Protestants and Catholics prayed for the kingdom to come as too many bloody Sundays dawned in their decades-long feud. The engineers of South African apartheid prayed for the kingdom, as did black South Africans who wouldn’t dare sit beside them in church.
Many millions of us will pray for the kingdom to come today before sitting down to abundant meals in comfortable dwellings, while millions of others will pray for the kingdom but eat no full meal this day.
What are we Christians to make of ourselves? We claim a common Father, yet we don’t always treat our brothers and sisters accordingly.