Mark 14:32-36: in context

In the garden of Gethsemane, on the night of his arrest, Jesus takes Peter, James, and John and begins to be deeply distressed and troubled. My soul is very sorrowful, he tells them, even to death; stay here and watch. He goes a little farther, falls to the ground, and prays that if possible the hour might pass from him. Abba, Father, he says, all things are possible for you; remove this cup from me; yet not what I will, but what you will.

This is a deeply human moment in the Gospels, and it is meant to be. Jesus is not stoic here; he is greatly distressed, sorrowful to the point of death, falling on the ground, and he honestly asks the Father to take the cup away. He does not pretend the suffering ahead does not terrify him, and he does not swallow his anguish and put on a brave face; he pours it out, Abba, Father, remove this cup. That the sinless Son of God prayed this way is a gift to everyone who has ever recoiled from suffering: it is not a failure of faith to ask God to take the hard thing away, to bring him your honest dread. But then comes the hinge on which everything turns: yet not what I will, but what you will. Jesus does not end with remove this cup; he ends with the Father's will over his own. The pattern of the deepest prayer is right here, complete honesty about what we want, remove this cup, held inside a deeper surrender to what God wills. He asks for the escape and then lays it down, and it is that surrender, not the absence of dread, that carries him to the cross. Real faith is not the lack of a struggle; it is the struggle ending in yours be done.

In my own Gethsemane, can I be honest with the Father about the cup I want removed, and then, like Jesus, lay it down with not what I will but what you will?