22.07 | My Will/His Will
‘And he withdrew from them about a stone’s throw, and knelt down and prayed, saying, “Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me. Nevertheless, not my will, but yours, be done.” And there appeared to him an angel from heaven, strengthening him.’
Luke 22:41-43
Every morning, as I finish my shower, I turn the water to fully cold.
Cold water runs into the house at the temperature of the outside pipes. In the summer, it’s bracing, probably coming in at around 15-18C. But in the winter, it’s positively baltic.
It seems a little masochistic. But somewhere between Wim Hof and Scandinavian folklore, I’m carrying this idea that cold water has health benefits. When I get out of the shower in the morning, I feel fantastic. I feel awake, alive, and ready to go.
Two things are true of me every morning.
I want to shower in cold water.
And I really don’t want to shower in cold water.
Today we meet what may just be the most extraordinary prayer in history.
Jesus is in the Garden, praying about the Cross. The disciples are off to the side, fast asleep. This leaves God the Son praying to God the Father. And He’s bringing the most earnest desires, the most raw words, and the most urgent petitions of His soul.
And there’s one phrase in His prayer that has got under my skin, working in my heart for years of reading and re-reading this passage.
Not my will, but yours, be done.
This single phrase has messed with me. It’s disturbed me. It’s rattled my theology, and untidied my spirituality. Because the Jesus I expect to find in the Garden shouldn’t be praying this prayer. The Jesus I expect to find is sitting in serene contemplation, unruffled and obedient. The Jesus I expect to find is unflustered and calm. The Jesus I expect to find is sleeping soundly—as He did through another storm—while His disciples anxiously fret about around Him.
But He isn’t. He’s in agony. He’s on His knees and He’s sweating blood.
And His prayer opens up an extraordinary insight, in which two things are both true.
Jesus didn’t want to go to the cross (not my will).
And yet, Jesus wanted to go to the cross (but yours).
This has messed with me because to say the first part sounds wrong. Even blasphemous. And yet, it brings us to something so essential in our understanding of obedience.
You can not want it, and yet you can still do it.
You can fear something, and yet you can still choose it.
You can desire comfort, and yet you can still walk the way of cost.
You can want your own desires, and yet you can more greatly want the desires of God.
There is no more costly place we find in prayer than this, and so there is equally maybe no purer place of worship. Because there are times—and we have to hold this with great kindness to ourselves and one another—where the will of the Father does not comfortably align with our own desires. There are times when His Way is more uncomfortable than we would like, and more costly than we would choose.
What do we need in such moments?
Take a lead from the Lord.
He doesn’t require our denial of our longings. He doesn’t require tidy prayers of emotional pretence. He doesn’t require us to deny our feelings or to hold back our honest prayers.
And yet, my friends, in such moments, we maybe find we are being invited into a journey of greater depth, greater intimacy, and greater power than we could ever have imagined or designed for ourselves.
For beyond this night—beyond the grief and fear and tears and anguish—we have a God who is working out a plan of greater glory and greater life than we could ever have imagined.
Beyond the garden of tears, there is a garden of resurrection.
Reflect:
Spend some time with this image of Jesus in the garden.
Where do I need to be more honest with my feelings and desires?
Is there a place where I need to surrender my will to the Father?
Pray:
Father,
Let’s be honest:
I want a life of fullness and comfort.
I want joy and laughter,
Life and health,
Wisdom and friendships,
Ice cream and hot dinners,
And a warm bed at the end of the day.
I want to live in a land of utter peace,
And spend my days in the things of beauty and joy.
Let’s be honest:
For this is no bad thing:
Such are the desires that long for heaven.
And yet, Father,
I see that your call,
At times,
Leads me to a road of obedience
That leads straight through discomfort,
And here I am confronted:
My will, or yours?
My comfort, or your glory?
And I am undone.
Father, I offer you simply this:
Today,
Your will, not mine, be done.
Be my strength, be my song,
And lead me to the life of the resurrection to come.
In Jesus’ Name,
Amen
Old Testament:
For those also reading the Old Testament this year, your additional readings are here:
Jeremiah 8:18-10:25 | Psalm 89:19-37
Really loved this:
“You can not want it, and yet you can still do it.
You can fear something, and yet you can still choose it.
You can desire comfort, and yet you can still walk the way of cost.
You can want your own desires, and yet you can more greatly want the desires of God.”
And This verse hit me “and being in anguish, he prayed more earnestly, and his sweat was like drops of blood falling to the ground”. Luke 22:44.
What an image of deep, committed, unrelenting prayer. Convicting! I need to pray more so that i sweat like drops of blood…