In the Lord's Prayer, Jesus assumes that asking for forgiveness

Host: The chapel was silent except for the faint hiss of rain against the stained-glass windows. The candles along the altar flickered gently, their flames bending with each soft draft of breath that moved through the old stone room. The smell of wax, cedar, and something ancient — like time itself — filled the air.

Jack sat in the back pew, his hands clasped, not in prayer but in thought. His eyes were tired, fixed on the light filtering through blue and gold glass. Jeeny stood near the front, tracing her fingers along the carved wooden pews, her steps unhurried, reverent.

Host: Outside, the world was grey and rushing. Inside, it was still — a pause carved out of chaos.

Jeeny: “Kevin DeYoung once said, ‘In the Lord’s Prayer, Jesus assumes that asking for forgiveness would be a daily occurrence, as would praying that we might be delivered from evil and led not into temptation.’”

Jack: (softly) “Daily occurrence. Not once in a lifetime — every day.”

Jeeny: “Because every day we fall. Every day we start again.”

Jack: “You make it sound like failure’s part of the rhythm.”

Jeeny: “It is. Repentance is just breathing for the soul — inhale humility, exhale grace.”

Host: The rain grew heavier, pattering like soft applause on the roof. The faint light through the glass turned the air into color — gold and blue dust floating between them.

Jack: “You know, when I was younger, I thought forgiveness was a one-time deal. You sin, you apologize, God checks a box.”

Jeeny: “That’s not forgiveness. That’s accounting. Forgiveness is relationship — ongoing, alive, like weather. It shifts, but it stays.”

Jack: “And what about temptation? The way he said it — ‘lead us not into it’ — almost sounds like it’s unavoidable.”

Jeeny: “Maybe that’s because it is. Temptation isn’t failure; it’s evidence that you’re still choosing.”

Jack: “Still human.”

Jeeny: “Exactly.”

Host: She sat down beside him, her eyes catching the reflection of the candlelight. Her voice was soft but certain, each word carrying a weight that only comes from experience.

Jeeny: “That’s what I love about DeYoung’s point — that forgiveness, deliverance, protection… they’re not occasional needs. They’re daily bread.”

Jack: “Daily bread.” (He smiles faintly.) “Another line from the same prayer. Makes sense.”

Jeeny: “Everything in that prayer is cyclical. Dependence, confession, gratitude, renewal — over and over. It’s not a formula, it’s a rhythm.”

Jack: “A rhythm most of us ignore until we’re desperate.”

Jeeny: “True. We pray hardest when we’re drowning. But real faith is learning to pray when you’re breathing.”

Host: The wind outside pressed against the stained glass, the faint vibration sounding almost like a sigh. A drop of rain slipped through a crack in the roof and landed beside Jack’s shoe. He didn’t move.

Jack: “You know, I’ve always struggled with that — the idea of daily forgiveness. I mean, shouldn’t you eventually stop needing it?”

Jeeny: “You never stop needing love. Why should forgiveness be different?”

Jack: “Because it feels like weakness.”

Jeeny: “No. It feels like honesty.”

Jack: “Then maybe honesty is the hardest virtue.”

Jeeny: “That’s why prayer exists — to make it a habit.”

Host: He turned toward her, his expression softer now — the edge of skepticism replaced with the flicker of recognition.

Jack: “So you’re saying Jesus didn’t just teach people how to pray — he taught them how to admit they’re still human, every single day.”

Jeeny: “Exactly. The Lord’s Prayer isn’t just sacred language — it’s a confession of need. Of dependence. Of the humility to say, ‘I can’t do this alone.’”

Jack: “And forgiveness is how we stay connected.”

Jeeny: “Yes. To God. To others. To ourselves.”

Host: The candles guttered briefly as a cold draft moved through the chapel. For a moment, shadows danced across their faces — faith and doubt entwined in the flicker of light.

Jack: “You know, I always thought evil was something out there — wars, corruption, cruelty. But lately, I think it’s quieter. Smaller. The bitterness we feed, the pride we excuse.”

Jeeny: “That’s the evil we pray to be delivered from daily — the kind that wears our own face.”

Jack: “So forgiveness isn’t just escape. It’s confrontation.”

Jeeny: “Yes. Forgiveness doesn’t erase sin; it exposes it to light.”

Host: She reached for one of the small prayer candles, lit it with a match, and set it gently on the altar. The flame caught quickly, steady and calm.

Jeeny: “That’s why Jesus assumed it would be daily. Because temptation doesn’t stop. Pride doesn’t sleep. But grace doesn’t run out.”

Jack: “You think that’s why people avoid prayer? Because it reminds them how much they need it?”

Jeeny: “Maybe. But I think real peace comes the day you stop being ashamed of needing grace.”

Host: The room grew quieter. Even the rain seemed to pause, as if listening.

Jack: “You know, maybe faith isn’t about becoming better. Maybe it’s about becoming more aware.”

Jeeny: “Yes. Aware of how often you fall — and how often you’re lifted.”

Jack: “You make it sound almost... beautiful.”

Jeeny: “It is. Forgiveness isn’t a transaction. It’s art — divine patience painted across human failure.”

Host: The last of the rain eased, leaving only the sound of dripping water and the soft hum of the storm moving away. The stained-glass light grew brighter now, as if dawn had snuck in quietly.

Jack: “So prayer isn’t about changing God’s mind.”

Jeeny: “No. It’s about changing ours.”

Jack: “And forgiveness isn’t earned.”

Jeeny: “It’s accepted. Daily.”

Host: She stood and turned toward the door. Jack followed, his steps lighter, as if the weight he carried had learned to breathe again.

Host: As they left the chapel, the candlelight shimmered behind them, casting long, soft shadows across the stone floor.

Host: And in that stillness — that holy quiet of recognition — Kevin DeYoung’s words lingered like the final note of a hymn:

Host: that forgiveness is not an event but a rhythm,
that temptation is not failure but proof of freedom,
and that the truest act of prayer
is the humble courage to ask again — and again — for grace.

Host: For the soul, like the heart, must beat daily to remain alive.