Luke 22:41-46: a reflection

41He was withdrawn from them about a stone’s throw, and he knelt down and prayed, 42saying, “Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me. Nevertheless, not my will, but yours, be done.” 43An angel from heaven appeared to him, strengthening him. 44Being in agony, he prayed more earnestly. His sweat became like great drops of blood falling down on the ground. 45When he rose up from his prayer, he came to the disciples and found them sleeping because of grief, 46and said to them, “Why do you sleep? Rise and pray that you may not enter into temptation.”

In the garden, on the night before his death, Jesus prays in agony, and in the hardest moment lays down the deepest words of surrender: not my will, but yours, be done. Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me, Jesus prays; nevertheless, not my will, but yours, be done. Facing the cup of suffering and death, in such agony that his sweat became like drops of blood, Jesus prayed honestly for the cup to pass if the Father were willing; and then, in the same breath, surrendered his will to the Father's: not my will, but yours, be done. He did not pretend the cup was easy; but he laid down his will before the Father's. This shows surrendering our will to the Father's, even in the hardest moment, as Christ did. Pray, even in agony, not my will, but yours, be done. Christ surrendered his will to the Father's in his hardest hour. We can be honest about our anguish and still surrender to God's will. Lay down your will before the Father's, as Christ did.

Notice how Jesus prays in his agony. He does not hide his anguish or pretend the cup is easy; he prays honestly, in agony so deep his sweat became like drops of blood, asking the Father, if he is willing, to remove the cup. But he does not stop there. In the same breath, he surrenders his will to the Father's: nevertheless, not my will, but yours, be done. He brings his real anguish and his honest desire for the cup to pass, and yet he lays his will down before the Father's, wanting the Father's will above his own. This is the deepest pattern of prayer, given to us by Christ himself in his hardest hour. When we face our own cups of suffering, sorrow, and hard things, we can pray as Jesus prayed: honestly, bringing our real anguish and our desire for the hard thing to pass, not pretending it is easy; and yet, in the same prayer, surrendering our will to the Father's, wanting his will above our own. This surrender is not cold resignation; it is trust, laying our will down before a Father we trust, even in agony. We do well to pray as Christ did, honest about our anguish and yet surrendering our will to the Father's, saying, not my will, but yours, be done. Pray honestly about your anguish, and still surrender your will to the Father's. Bring your real desire for the cup to pass, and yet want God's will above your own. Christ himself prayed, not my will, but yours, be done. Surrender is not cold resignation but trust in a Father you can rely on.

That is worth taking to heart, for even in his agony Christ surrendered his will to the Father's, praying, not my will, but yours, be done, and we can pray the same in our own hard hours. We can pray only for the cup to pass, or resist God's will in our anguish; but Christ, in agony, brought his honest desire to the Father and yet surrendered his will to his, wanting the Father's will above his own. Pray as he prayed. In your own hard hour, be honest about your anguish, and yet surrender your will to the Father's, praying with Christ, not my will, but yours, be done. Surrender your will to the Father's even in your hardest hour, being honest about your anguish and yet wanting his will above your own, as Christ did, for in the garden on the night before his death Jesus prayed in agony and laid down the deepest words of surrender, asking the Father to remove the cup if he were willing but praying, nevertheless, not my will, but yours, be done; for facing the cup of suffering and death, in such agony that his sweat became like drops of blood, he prayed honestly for the cup to pass if the Father were willing and then in the same breath surrendered his will to the Father's, not pretending the cup was easy but laying his will down before the Father's, which is the deepest pattern of prayer given to us by Christ himself in his hardest hour, since when we face our own cups of suffering and sorrow we can pray as Jesus prayed, honestly bringing our real anguish and desire for the hard thing to pass without pretending it is easy, and yet in the same prayer surrendering our will to the Father's and wanting his will above our own, a surrender that is not cold resignation but trust, laying our will down before a Father we trust even in agony, so that we do well to pray as Christ did.

Lord Jesus, in the garden, on the night before your death, you pray in agony, and in the hardest moment lay down the deepest words of surrender: not my will, but yours, be done. Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me, you pray; nevertheless, not my will, but yours, be done. Facing the cup of suffering and death, in such agony that your sweat became like drops of blood, you prayed honestly for the cup to pass if the Father were willing; and then, in the same breath, surrendered your will to the Father's: not my will, but yours, be done. You did not pretend the cup was easy; but you laid down your will before the Father's. Show me how you prayed in your agony. You did not hide your anguish or pretend the cup was easy; you prayed honestly, in agony so deep your sweat became like drops of blood, asking the Father, if he was willing, to remove the cup. But you did not stop there. In the same breath, you surrendered your will to the Father's: nevertheless, not my will, but yours, be done. You brought your real anguish and your honest desire for the cup to pass, and yet you laid your will down before the Father's. This is the deepest pattern of prayer, given to me by you in your hardest hour. When I face my own cups of suffering, sorrow, and hard things, I can pray as you prayed: honestly, bringing my real anguish and my desire for the hard thing to pass, not pretending it is easy; and yet, in the same prayer, surrendering my will to the Father's, wanting his will above my own. This surrender is not cold resignation; it is trust, laying my will down before a Father I trust, even in agony. Take that to my heart. In my own hard hour, help me pray as you did, Lord, honest about my anguish and yet surrendering my will to the Father's, praying with you, not my will, but yours, be done, laying my will down before a Father I can trust.