In the midst of broken dreams and riveting pain,
how should we pray?
Should we pray for healing and deliverance,
believing that we just need to ask, because God
can do anything? Or should we relinquish our
desires to God, trusting that even in our
anguish he has the perfect plan for us?
Yes. When life falls apart, God invites us to do
both. In the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus faced
unimaginable suffering. Sweating drops of blood,
he fell to the ground and prayed: “Abba,
Father, all things are possible for you.
Remove this cup from me. Yet not what I will,
but what you will” (Mark 14:36 ). Jesus, in his
agony, is teaching us by example how to pray
when we’re desperate.
ABBA, FATHER
Jesus does not begin with, “Almighty God, Maker
of heaven and earth.” Of course, God is Lord of
all and deserves honor and reverence. But Jesus
chooses a term of endearment: “Abba.” While
“Abba” does not mean “Daddy,” it was used as
an intimate, personal term for Father. Jesus is
asking his Father to do something for him.
I grew up calling my father “Daddy,” and still do
to this day. “Daddy” was a great name when I
was happy with him, but when I was upset, I
wanted to call him “Sir.” I could feel distant and
defiant on the inside when I called him “Sir”, but
there was no separating myself from him when I
said “Daddy.” And my father, who wisely knew
that, insisted that I call him “Daddy” after our
disagreements. When I was able to use that
name sincerely, he knew our reconciliation was
complete.
In a similar way, I need to draw near to God in
my pain. He’s the Almighty Lord, but he’s also
my Abba Father (Rom. 8:15). I need to approach
him as such.
NOTHING TOO DIFFICULT
Jesus knows God can do anything. He owns the
cattle on a thousand hills (Ps 50:10 ). All things
are his servants (Ps 119:91 ). Nothing is
impossible with him (Luke 1:37 ). While I know
those Scripture verses by heart too, I often
functionally doubt God’s ability to change my
situation. I scan my circumstances and assume
things will continue as they are. Even as I pray, I
don’t look for miraculous answers; my prayers
become rote recitations of requests more than
earnest petitions of faith .
But in Gethsemane, Jesus knows his Father can
grant his request. God gives life to the dead and
summons into being things that don’t exist. And
I need to remember his limitless power when my
situation looks insurmountable.
REMOVE THIS CUP
The cup Jesus asks God to remove isn’t mere
physical suffering. Disciples and martyrs through
the ages have faced physical pain without fear.
Jesus is anguished over suffering that’s infinitely
deeper. He is facing the terrifying fury of
God’s wrath over our sin. And he’s facing that
wrath alone, with no comfort from above.
Jesus knows God can change this horrifying
situation. So he asks. He wants God to remove
the very suffering he was sent to bear, the
suffering he willingly came for, the suffering that
would secure salvation for his people. Jesus
wasn’t coerced onto the cross. He lay down his
life of his own accord (John 10:18 ). But now
Jesus is asking if there is another way—any
other way—for God to accomplish his purposes.
So many times I filter my requests. Should I ask
God to relieve my suffering when I know he can
use it? Is it okay to pray for healing, or is that
presumptuous? Should I not ask for anything
and just accept what I’ve been given? That
posture seems more holy.
Yet, Jesus asks God to remove the cup. If Jesus
can ask, I can too. It’s appropriate to ask God to
remove my suffering, change my situation, keep
me from further pain. He longs to give me good
gifts. I’ve begged God to heal friends, save
family members, and give clarity, and he has
answered “yes.” But I’ve also pleaded with God
to save my dying son, heal my escalating
disease, and bring back my husband, and he
said “no.” So even though I don’t know how he
will answer, my Father still bids me to earnestly
petition him for the things I desire.
NOT MY WILL, BUT YOURS
Jesus finally relinquishes his will to God’s. When
denied his desire, Jesus accepts the decision
completely. He stumbles to his execution without
murmur or complaint.
This relinquishment isn’t easy for me. When I
keep God at a distance, I can stay detached and
without expectations. But if I draw near to him
and truly believe he can change the situation, I
can start to clutch the outcome I want. I may
verbalize “Your will be done,” but I’m white
knuckling my own will. God often has to pry my
fingers off my desired outcome. Though I’ve
felt devastated by his “no’s,” as I submit to his
will—often with disappointment and tears—he
assures me he’s working for my good. I see only
part of the picture. He has a purpose in his
denials.
The Father said “no” to the Son. And that “no”
brought about the greatest good in all of history.
God is not capricious. If he says “no” to our
requests he has a reason, perhaps 10,000. We
may never know the reasons in this life, but one
day we’ll see them all. For now, we must trust
that his refusals are always his mercies to us.
RUN TO YOUR FATHER
And now as we wait, still struggling to make
sense of the storms in our lives, let us pray as
our Savior did. Let us draw near to God, believe
he can change our situation, boldly ask him for
what we need, and submit our will to his.
Our Father’s plans are always perfect. They will
always be for our good and his glory.
Adapted from a post on The Gospel Coalition
website and taken directly from my book The
Scars That Have Shaped Me.
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