Give us this day our daily bread
Each Sunday at Lighthouse, after cries for the kingdom to come,
we move to the next line of the prayer Jesus gave us.
Give us this day our daily bread.
At first glance, it sounds simple enough — a prayer for food.
But when these words rise from the lips of Lighthouse,
they land with a particular weight.
Because this prayer is prayed by those who know hunger.
Real hunger.
The kind that gnaws at your stomach and your pride.
Some who pray have empty cupboards —
no tins, no bread, no milk.
Some pray it from the streets, where hunger is a daily companion.
Some are regulars at the street kitchens in town,
queuing for a sandwich, a cuppa, maybe a kind word.
Some have never been taught to cook —
no skills, no pots or pans, no working hob, no money for the meter.
Some, battling addiction, spend what little they have elsewhere.
For some, hunger is both physical and spiritual —
a longing for bread, yes, but also for love, for meaning, for God.
And so we pray —
Give us this day our daily bread.
It’s a prayer for provision, yes —
but also a cry for justice.
Why, in a world of abundance, do so many go hungry?
Why, in streets lined with restaurants, do some queue at foodbanks?
Why, in a land where bread is broken and blessed at the altar,
do so many struggle to find bread for the table?
Give us this day our daily bread.
It’s a prayer for the stomach — and a prayer for the soul.
For we do not live by bread alone.
There’s a deeper hunger inside —
a hunger for meaning, for love, for belonging, for God.
At Lighthouse, we know this hunger well.
We’ve tried to feed it with all sorts —
drink, drugs, relationships, quick fixes —
but the hunger remains.
A hunger only heaven’s bread can satisfy.
And so this prayer bends in two directions —
down to the earth, praying for food for today,
and up to the heavens, longing for the Bread of Life himself.
For Jesus didn’t just teach this prayer —
he lived it, became it.
He is the bread given for the world.
His body, broken like bread.
His life, poured out like wine.
He is the taste of the kingdom to come.
He is the food that sustains us now.
Give us this day our daily bread.
In the queue at the foodbank —
Give us this day our daily bread.
In the streets and shelters —
Give us this day our daily bread.
At the table of Holy Communion —
Give us this day our daily bread.
In the depths of our hungry souls —
Give us this day our daily bread.
And one day, when the kingdom comes in full,
when there’s no more hunger,
no more foodbanks,
no more street kitchens,
no more empty cupboards,
we will feast at the wedding supper of the Lamb —
a banquet for the broken,
a table for the poor,
where the only qualification for entry
is hunger itself.
Blessed are the hungry,
for they shall be filled.
Until then, we pray —
Give us this day our daily bread.
A Prayer from Lighthouse
Generous God,
who fed your people in the wilderness,
who broke bread with the outcast and the hungry,
who offers yourself to us in the bread of the Eucharist,
feed us today.
Give us this day our daily bread.
Bread for the cupboards — for those who have none.
Bread for the streets — for those who have nowhere to cook.
Bread for the soul — for those starving for hope.
Feed us with your grace,
sustain us with your mercy,
and at the last, gather us at your table —
where every hunger will be satisfied
and every empty heart filled.
Through Jesus Christ,
the Living Bread,
our Lord.
Amen.
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