God speaks today about His word.

“As the rain and the snow come down from heaven
and do not return there but water the earth…
so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth;
it shall not return to me empty.”

God’s word is not information. It is action.

It does not merely describe reality. It creates it.

Rain does not argue with the soil. It enters it. It changes it.

So it is with the word of God.

When God speaks, something is meant to happen.

This prepares us for the Gospel, where Jesus teaches us how to pray.

“When you pray, do not heap up empty phrases as the Gentiles do.”

Prayer is not magic. It is not persuasion. It is not noise.

God does not need to be convinced. He does not need to be informed.

“Your Father knows what you need before you ask him.”

So Jesus gives us words — not many, but true.

The Lord’s Prayer is not long. But it is complete.

It begins with God. “Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name.”

Prayer begins not with our problems, but with God’s holiness.

To say “hallowed be your name”
is to ask that God be recognised as God.

Not only in heaven,
but in us.

“Your kingdom come,
your will be done.”

This is the heart of Lent.

Not my will.
Not my plan.
But Yours.

Prayer is not about bending God toward us.
It is about bending us toward God.

Only then do we speak of bread.

“Give us this day our daily bread.”

Not tomorrow’s security.
Not excess.

Daily.

Enough.

Dependence is built into the prayer.

And then we come to the hardest line.

“Forgive us our debts,
as we also have forgiven our debtors.”

Jesus does not separate
God’s mercy
from our behaviour.

We do not earn forgiveness.
But we either receive it
or resist it.

And the measure is clear.

If we refuse to forgive,
we close ourselves to mercy.

This is why Jesus adds:

“If you forgive others their trespasses,
your heavenly Father will also forgive you;
but if you do not forgive others,
neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.”

These are not polite words.
They are serious.

They tell us that prayer is not only spoken.
It is lived.

The word of God
does not return empty
when it is obeyed.

Isaiah says
the word of God makes the earth bring forth and sprout.

Jesus shows us how.

The Lord’s Prayer is not just a text.
It is a pattern of life.

God first.
Then trust.
Then mercy.

Lent is the season
when this prayer must become real.

Not rushed.
Not recited mechanically.
But allowed to work in us
like rain in dry soil.

When we say,
“Your will be done,”
we are asking for change.

When we say,
“Give us this day our daily bread,”
we are admitting limits.

When we say,
“Forgive us… as we forgive,”
we are naming the place
where resistance hides.

God’s word is not sent
to decorate life.

It is sent
to reshape it.

And that reshaping
often begins with prayer.

Not many words.
But true ones.

Jesus does not teach us
to speak at God.

He teaches us
to stand before Him
as children.

“Our Father.”

Not distant.
Not abstract.

A relationship that demands trust and produces obedience.

Isaiah promises that God’s word will succeed
in the thing for which He sent it.

The Lord’s Prayer is one of those words.

It is sent to make us holy.

Not by emotion. Not by effort alone. But by alignment.

It aligns us with God’s name, God’s kingdom, God’s will, God’s mercy.

Lent is not the time to invent new prayers.

It is the time to let this one do its work.

To let it fall into the soil of our lives.

And to see what begins to grow.