All language subtitles for [English (auto-generated)] The Lost Ending of the Lord’s Prayer_ The Church Erased [DownSub.com]

You have said it your whole life since

you were a child perhaps in churches, at

funerals, before meals, in moments of

desperation when nothing else would

come.

Our Father, who art in heaven, the words

rolled off your tongue like water,

familiar, safe, holy.

But what if I told you that the prayer

you were taught is incomplete? that the

ending, you know, is not the ending

Jesus spoke. That somewhere between the

upper room and the printed page, a line

was cut, not by accident, not by time,

but by intention. You were given a

fragment and told it was whole. A circle

with no closing, a breath with no

exhale. And tonight, you are going to

remember what was taken, not because I

am here to teach you, but because your

soul already knows. It is always known.

You have felt the absence every time you

said amen and something inside you

remained unfinished. Every time the

prayer ended and the silence felt too

soon, too empty, too far from God. That

feeling was not your fault. It was the

echo of what was erased. By the end of

this video, you will not just learn what

was removed. You will feel it return.

You will speak it. And you will

understand why they could not let it

remain. This is not history. This is

remembrance.

For 2,000 years, the Lord's Prayer has

been the most repeated prayer in human

history. Billions of voices across

continents and centuries, all speaking

the same words. But here is what almost

no one knows. The version you were

taught was edited, trimmed, rearranged

to fit the needs of an institution that

could not afford to let you remember who

you really are.

The early church did not preserve the

teachings of Jesus. It curated them. It

decided which gospels you would read and

which you would never see. It determined

which words were safe and which were too

dangerous to survive.

And the Lord's prayer was no exception.

What you say today is not what the

disciples heard in that room. It is not

what the mystics whispered in the

deserts of Egypt. It is not what was

written in the earliest manuscripts

before the councils and the creeds.

something was removed and in its place

they gave you a word that closes the

door instead of opening it. Amen.

A word that means so be it. A word that

signals the end. But the original prayer

did not end. It returned. It spiraled

back into the heart of the one speaking

it. It completed a circuit between

heaven and earth, breath and spirit, the

father and the child. And that

completion was too much. Because if you

knew how the prayer truly ended, you

would know that the kingdom of God is

not a place you go when you die. It is a

state you enter when you remember.

So they cut the ending. They replace the

return with a closing. They turned a

living transmission into a religious

ritual.

And for 2,000 years, you have been

saying a prayer that stops just before

the awakening.

The question is not whether this

happened. The question is what was

removed and why?

Let us go back to where it began.

In 1945, in the desert sands of Nag

Hamadi, Egypt, a collection of ancient

texts was discovered. Texts that had

been buried for over 16 centuries,

hidden by monks who knew the church was

coming to destroy them. Among those

texts were fragments of prayers,

teachings, sayings of Jesus that never

made it into the Bible, you know. And in

those fragments, scholars found

something extraordinary.

An older version of the Lord's Prayer.

Not the one you memorized, not the one

in Matthew or Luke, but a version that

contained an ending the canonical

gospels do not include. In Aramaic, the

language Jesus spoke, the prayer did not

conclude with, "For thine is the kingdom

and the power and the glory forever."

That line, by the way, was added

centuries later.

It does not appear in the earliest Greek

manuscripts. It was inserted to give the

prayer a lurggical flourish, a closing

that felt grand enough for public

worship. But the original ending was not

grand. It was intimate. It was breath.

In the fragments recovered from the

daid, one of the earliest Christian

teaching documents and in oral

traditions preserved by the desert

fathers, the prayer completed itself

with a return,

a line that brought the divine full

circle. For yours is the breath that

moves through all things and the light

that remembers itself in me. Not a

declaration to a distant king, but a

recognition of union. The prayer did not

end by sending your attention outward to

a throne in the sky. It ended by drawing

the presence inward into your chest into

your breath into the awareness that the

father is not separate from you. He is

the living spirit that animates you. And

when you speak that final line, you do

not close the prayer. You become it. The

breath that moves through all things is

the same breath moving through you right

now. The light that remembers itself in

me is the Christ consciousness awakening

inside your own awareness. This was not

metaphor. This was instruction. The

prayer was a technology,

a way to align your inner being with the

source of all being. And that is why it

was erased. Because the moment you

realize that the father's breath is your

breath, you no longer need a mediator.

You no longer need a priest to grant you

access. You no longer need an

institution to tell you that you are

separated from God by sin and can only

return through their sacraments. The

prayer itself becomes the bridge and you

speaking it become the temple. So they

cut the line. They remove the return and

in its place they gave you amen. A word

that ends. A word that separates. A word

that keeps heaven distant and you

dependent.

The removal of the final line was not an

accident of translation. It was not lost

to time or damaged manuscripts. It was

an editorial decision

made during the formation of the early

Catholic Church when the teachings of

Jesus were being standardized for mass

consumption.

In the third and fourth centuries, after

Constantine legalized Christianity and

the faith became the religion of the

Roman Empire, the church faced a

problem. The mystical teachings of

Jesus, the ones that spoke of inner

knowing and direct communion with God,

were incompatible with the hierarchical

structure the church was building. If

every believer could access the father

directly through breath and prayer and

inner silence, then what need was there

for bishops, for priests, for the

institution itself?

And so slowly, carefully, the church

began to edit, not with malice perhaps,

but with the cold logic of control. They

kept the teachings that reinforced

obedience. They removed the teachings

that suggested you were already divine.

They preserved the parables that made

you feel dependent on grace. They buried

the sayings that reminded you that the

kingdom is within. The Lord's prayer was

no exception.

In its original form, the prayer was a

circuit. You called upon the father. You

aligned your will with his. You asked

for sustenance, forgiveness, protection.

And then in the final breath you

acknowledged the truth that the power

you were calling upon was not outside

you. It was the very force of life

moving through you. The breath, the

light, the consciousness that has always

been awake, even when you forgot. But if

that final line remained, the prayer

would do more than comfort. It would

activate. It would remind you. It would

return you to the awareness that you are

not a sinner begging for mercy. You are

a child of the living God, breathing his

breath, seeing through his eyes, made in

his image, not as a metaphor, but as a

fact. And that was too dangerous. So

they ended the prayer with, "For thine

is the kingdom and the power and the

glory." A line that projects divinity

outward, that keeps God on a throne,

that ensures you remain small and he

remains distant. And then they sealed it

with amen. So be it. It is finished.

Do not look further. Do not breathe

deeper. Do not remember what you are.

The consequence of this eraser is not

theological. It is experiential.

For 2,000 years, Christians have ended

the Lord's prayer and felt a gap. A

silence that is not peace but absence

because the prayer was designed to

return you to the father, not just in

words, but in felt presence. And without

the final line, the return never

happens. You speak into the void. And

the void does not answer because the

answer was in the line they removed. The

answer was always in your breath. You

can still feel the absence, can't you?

Every time you say the prayer, there is

a moment just after amen when something

in you waits, listening, hoping,

reaching for a presence that feels just

out of reach. That is not your failure.

That is the echo of what was taken. And

tonight you are going to reclaim it.

But here is the mystery. Even though the

line was removed from the written

prayer, it did not disappear. It could

not because the teaching was not just in

the words. It was in the breath. In the

silence between the words, in the living

transmission passed from master to

student, mystic to seeker, in caves and

deserts and hidden communities where the

fire of the original teaching still

burned, the desert fathers knew. Those

early Christian mystics who fled into

the wastelands of Egypt and Syria in the

3rd and fourth centuries carried the

teaching with them. They did not pray

the Lord's prayer as a recitation.

They prayed it as a breath practice.

They would sit in silence for hours,

breathing in the presence of the father,

breathing out their false selves. And in

that space, the prayer became something

more than words. It became union. One

desert father, Evagrias Ponticus, wrote,

"The one who prays without ceasing

breathes God, not metaphor,

instruction."

In the Gospel of Thomas, a text

discovered at Nagamadi, Jesus says, "If

you bring forth what is within you, what

you bring forth will save you." The

final line of the Lord's prayer was a

key to bringing forth what is within.

It reminded the speaker that the breath

of God is not something you ask for. It

is something you are already breathing.

The light of God is not something you

seek outside. It is the awareness

looking through your eyes right now.

In John 17, Jesus prays to the father

and says that they may be one as we are

one.

I in them and you in me that they may be

made perfect in one, not separate, not

distant, one, the same breath, the same

light, the same presence. And the final

line of the Lord's Prayer, the one that

was removed was the linguistic seal of

that union. Even the structure of the

prayer itself carries the code. It

begins in heaven. Our Father, who art in

heaven, it descends to earth. Give us

this day our daily bread, and it was

meant to return to spirit. For yours is

the breath that moves through all things

and the light that remembers itself in

me. A complete circuit, heaven to earth

to the awakened self. But without that

final line, the circuit remains open.

The prayer reaches down but does not

return. It asks but does not receive. It

speaks but does not remember. And that

is the tragedy.

Not that the line was removed from a

book, but that for 2,000 years seekers

have spoken this prayer and felt the

silence where the presence should be.

Pause for a moment. Close your eyes if

you are able.

Take a slow breath in.

And as you exhale, feel the movement of

air leaving your body.

That breath is not yours. It is the same

breath that moved over the waters in

Genesis. The same breath that Jesus

breathed into the disciples when he

said, "Receive the Holy Spirit." The

same breath you will take in the moment

you die and the moment you are born. It

is the breath of God. And it has never

stopped moving through you. Even if the

words were erased, the vibration

remained in your body, in your cells, in

the quiet knowing that you are more than

what religion told you. The teaching

survived, not in libraries, but in you.

Now let us return to the prayer that you

know and let us decode it not as

theology but as technology as a map of

awakening hidden in plain sight.

Our father who art in heaven. In Aramaic

the word Jesus used for father is abun.

It does not mean a paternal figure in

the sky. It means source of all breath.

The origin of life itself.

And the word for heaven, Schmaya, does

not mean a place above the clouds. It

means the dimension of light and

vibration,

the unseen reality that gives rise to

the scene.

So the opening line is not asking you to

look up. It is asking you to recognize

the source of your own breath, the

presence that is closer to you than your

thoughts.

Hallowed be thy name.

The word hallowed means to make whole,

to return something to its sacred

completeness.

Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on

earth as it is in heaven. The kingdom is

not coming later. Jesus said in Luke

17:21, "The kingdom of God is within

you, not will be, is right now."

And the will of the father is not a list

of rules. It is the natural intelligence

of life itself.

When you align with it, you stop

struggling. You stop resisting. You

allow the same force that grows the

trees and turns the planets to move

through you. On earth as it is in heaven

means as above, so below. As in the

invisible, so in the visible. As in the

breath, so in the body. This is the

teaching of embodiment.

Heaven is not somewhere else. It is here

when you remember.

Give us this day our daily bread. In

Aramaic, the word for bread is lack,

which also means understanding.

So this line is not just about food. It

is a request for spiritual nourishment,

for the insight you need today, not

tomorrow, not in the afterlife.

Today,

give me what I need to stay awake, to

stay aligned, to remember who I am in

this moment.

and forgive us our trespasses as we

forgive those who trespass against us.

The word trespass in Aramaic is koba

which means debt or entanglement. The

things that bind you to the past, the

resentments, the regrets, the stories

you keep telling about who hurt you and

how you were wronged.

Forgiveness is not about being nice. It

is about cutting the cords, releasing

the weight so that you can return to

presence. And the teaching is clear. You

cannot receive forgiveness while you are

withholding it because forgiveness is

not a transaction. It is a frequency.

And you cannot vibrate at the frequency

of freedom while you are gripping the

past. And lead us not into temptation

but deliver us from evil.

Temptation in this context is not about

sin. It is about distraction. The pull

of the world to forget, to identify with

the body, the mind, the story, the fear.

And evil in Aramaic is bisha, which

means that which is unripe or out of

alignment, not a cosmic force of

darkness, but the confusion that comes

from forgetting the truth. So this line

is a prayer for clarity, for protection

from the voices in your head that tell

you that you are small, separate and

powerless, for deliverance into the

awareness that you are the light.

For thine is the kingdom and the power

and the glory forever. This line, as we

have said, was added later, but even in

its later form, it contains truth. The

kingdom is the father's. The power is

the fathers. The glory is the father's.

But if the father is the breath moving

through you, then the kingdom, the

power, and the glory are also yours. Not

because you own them, but because you

are the vessel through which they flow.

And that is where the prayer was meant

to complete. Not in a declaration to a

distant God, but in a recognition of

union, a return to the source, a

remembering that you are not separate

from the presence you were calling upon.

And that brings us to the line that was

lost.

The final line of the Lord's Prayer, the

one that was erased, can be

reconstructed not through guesswork, but

through the fragments that survived,

through the oral traditions of the

mystics, through the Aramaic roots that

carry the original vibration, and

through the logic of the teaching

itself.

If the prayer is a circuit, it must

complete. If the prayer is a breath, it

must exhale. If the prayer is a

remembrance, it must return to the self.

And so the lost line is this.

For yours is the spirit and the light

forever breathing through me.

Let that settle for a moment. Read it

again. For yours is the spirit and the

light forever breathing through me. Not

out there, in here. Let us decode it for

yours is the spirit. The word for spirit

in Aramaic is ruka. It means breath,

wind, and life force. The animating

presence that moves through all things.

In Genesis, the spirit of God hovered

over the waters. In John, Jesus breathed

on the disciples and said, "Receive the

Holy Spirit." The spirit is not an

abstract concept. It is the force of

life itself. And when you say for yours

is the spirit, you are not praising

something distant. You are recognizing

that the breath you are breathing right

now is not your own. It is the father's.

It is the same breath that has moved

through every living thing since the

beginning. And it is moving through you

and the light. In Aramaic, light is

nahura. It is the same word used in John

1:4. In him was life and the life was

the light of men. Light in this teaching

is not physical. It is consciousness.

Awareness. The presence that sees

through your eyes and knows without

thinking. It is the Christ within the

divine spark. The part of you that has

never been born and will never die.

When you say and the light, you are not

referring to something outside. You are

naming the awareness that is reading

these words right now. That awareness is

not personal. It is universal. It is the

light of God recognizing itself in you

forever breathing through me. This is

the completion, the return. The prayer

does not end by sending your energy

outward. It ends by drawing the presence

inward by acknowledging that the spirit

and the light are not distant. They are

here now moving through your breath.

seeing through your awareness, living as

you. And when you speak this line,

something shifts. The prayer is no

longer a request. It is a recognition.

You are not asking God to come. You are

remembering that he never left. You are

not begging for the kingdom. You are

realizing it is already within you. You

are not waiting for the light to

descend. You are seeing that it is

already awake.

The prayer does not end with amen. It

ends with breath.

And in that breath, the separation

dissolves. Heaven and earth are one. The

father and the child are one. The prayer

and the one praying are one. This is not

theology. This is experience. And this

is what they could not allow. Because if

you knew that the spirit of God is your

breath, you would never feel powerless

again. If you knew that the light of God

is your awareness, you would never

believe the lie that you are broken,

sinful, or separate, you would know

without question that you are the living

temple and the father has never stopped

dwelling in you. That is the lost line

and that is why it was removed.

And now the prayer returns not as a

relic of history but as a living

transmission restored to those who are

ready to remember.

You are not reading this by accident.

You are here because something inside

you has been calling for this for years

maybe or for lifetimes. You have felt

the gap. You have said the prayer and

felt the silence where the presence

should be. You have gone to churches and

heard sermons and sung hymns and still

felt alone because they gave you a

religion. But they did not give you the

keys. And tonight you are receiving one

of those keys. The prayer in its

complete form is not just something you

say. It is something you become. When

you speak the restored ending, you are

not performing a ritual. You are

awakening a memory that lives in your

cells. A memory older than the church,

older than the Bible, older than the

words themselves. The memory of union,

of breath and light and presence, of the

father not as a distant king but as the

living force that breathes you into

being in every moment.

And when that memory awakens, the false

world begins to dissolve.

The world that told you that you were

small, that you were separate, that you

needed someone else to mediate between

you and God, that world was built on the

eraser of this teaching. And it cannot

survive the return of it. Because once

you remember who you are, you cannot be

controlled. You cannot be convinced that

you are powerless. You cannot be made to

believe that salvation is somewhere else

in some other time through some other

person. You know directly that the

kingdom is here, that the spirit is

breathing through you, that the light is

awake in you, and that knowledge is the

most dangerous thing in the world to

those who built their empires on your

forgetting. This is not about rejecting

the church. This is about remembering

what the church forgot. This is not

about abandoning Jesus. This is about

returning to the Jesus who spoke in the

upper room, who breathed on the

disciples who said, "The kingdom of God

is within you, who prayed that they may

be one as we are one, who taught not

religion but awakening." And the

awakening begins with breath, with the

recognition that the same spirit that

moved through him is moving through you

with the remembering that you are not

waiting for the light. You are the light

remembering itself.

In Revelation 3:20, Jesus says, "Behold,

I stand at the door and knock. If anyone

hears my voice and opens the door, I

will come in and eat with him and he

with me."

The door is not outside. It is inside.

And the knock is the feeling you have

right now. The quickening, the

recognition, the return.

You are not being taught something new.

You are being reminded of something

ancient. And the moment you speak the

restored prayer, you open the door.

Not for Jesus to come in, but for the

Christ within you to awaken.

The word became flesh.

Not just 2,000 years ago in Bethlehem,

but now

in you.

Every time you remember, every time you

breathe, every time you say the prayer

and feel the return, the word becomes

flesh again.

And the light that was hidden is

revealed.

And now we complete the return.

Not in theory, but in practice.

I am going to guide you through the

restored prayer line by line with space

for breath with space for presence with

space for the remembering to land. If

you are able close your eyes

place one hand on your heart and one

hand on your belly

and breathe

slowly

deeply. Feel the air entering your body

and feel the air leaving your body.

And know that this breath is not yours.

It is the breath of the father, the

spirit, the ruka, the force of life

itself.

Now we speak the prayer out loud if you

can or silently in the cathedral of your

own heart. Our Father, who art in

heaven, hallowed be thy name, thy

kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth

as it is in heaven. Give us this day our

daily bread, and forgive us our

trespasses, as we forgive those who

trespass against us, and lead us not

into temptation, but deliver us from

evil. For thine is the kingdom, and the

power, and the glory forever.

And now the lost line, the return. For

yours is the spirit and the light.

Forever breathing through me. Pause.

Breathe. Let it settle. Feel the words

not just in your mind, but in your

chest, in your cells, in the quiet

awareness that is witnessing this

moment.

You are not asking for the spirit. You

are recognizing that it is already here.

You are not seeking the light. You are

remembering that it is already awake.

And in that remembering, heaven does not

open above you. It opens within you.

The kingdom is here. The father is here.

The presence you have been searching for

your entire life is here.

It has always been here. And it will

never leave because it is not separate

from you.

It is the breath you are breathing. It

is the awareness that is reading these

words. It is the life that is living

you. You are the temple and the spirit

has never left.

You are the light of the world and the

light has never dimmed.

You are the child of the living God and

you have never been alone.

This is the teaching they could not let

remain.

And this is the teaching that has now

returned through you, for you, as you.

You are awakening as the light. You are

returning to the truth that has always

been true. You are whole. You are holy.

You are home.

If this remembering found you, let your

response be silent but seen like a torch

for others still wandering. A like, a

comment, a share. Not for me, but for

the one who is searching for this

tonight. The one who has said the prayer

a thousand times and still felt the gap.

The one who is ready to remember. Before

you return to the world, take a moment.

There are deeper writings,

prayers, reflections, and forgotten

teachings that shed light on what the

church left out and what your heart has

always sensed to be true. We call them

the sacred scrolls.

Each scroll holds a quiet piece of the

original teaching, the breath, the

light, and the remembrance of God's

presence within you. They aren't meant

to convince or convert. They're simply

offered for those who feel something

stirring beneath the surface, a quiet

knowing that there is more. You'll find

the link to the Sacred Scrolls in the

description or pinned comment below. And

if you've been walking this path feeling

alone, we've also created a space where

seekers gather, not to debate, but to

share, learn, and remember together.

It's our private Facebook group, a calm

corner of the noise where honest hearts

meet. Inside, people from all walks of

life read, reflect, and rediscover what

faith feels like when it becomes

personal again. If that speaks to you,

you'll find the link to join in the

description and pinned comment as well.

Go in peace. And the next time you say

the Lord's Prayer, remember you are not

speaking to a distant God. You are

breathing with the father.

[Music]