Praying When You're Afraid

In Gethsemane Jesus asked for a different outcome, and He was afraid when He asked

"Abba, Father, all things are possible for You. Take this cup away from Me."

That's Jesus, face down in the dirt of a garden called Gethsemane, a few hours before the cross. Mark doesn't clean the moment up. He says Jesus began to be troubled and deeply distressed, and that He told Peter, James and John His soul was exceedingly sorrowful, even to death (Mark 14:33-34). Then He walked a little farther, fell on the ground, and asked His Father for a different outcome.

Sit in that garden for a minute and the word nevertheless starts to sound different. Most of us were taught that line as the right answer, the thing you add at the end so God knows you're serious. But look at the order. Jesus asked first. He asked out loud, for the thing He wanted. Nobody in that garden called it a lack of faith.

The Prayer Jesus Prayed in the Garden

And He said, "Abba, Father, all things are possible for You. Take this cup away from Me; nevertheless, not what I will, but what You will." (Mark 14:36)

Abba is the word a child uses. It's not a title you'd use in a formal letter. It's what a son calls his dad when he's scared and wants him close. And the whole prayer is held together by that word. Jesus isn't bargaining with a reluctant God or reciting something He memorized to get the odds right, because He's talking to His Father about the thing that's tearing Him up.

When I taught Romans 8 to our church a few years ago, I put it this way. When Jesus prayed, He was showing us that He had permission to talk to His dad about anything He wanted. He came expecting a good Father who heard what was in His heart. That's the prayer in Gethsemane, and it moves from permission to honesty to trust in the space of a single breath.

The Waiting Room

So now picture a different room. It's 6:42 on a Tuesday morning. Her phone is in her lap, face down, because she's tired of checking it. The coffee somebody brought her has gone cold. Every time the double doors swing open she looks up, and every time it's somebody else's name.

She knows she ought to pray. That's part of what makes the waiting worse. She can't find the words, and the few she finds sound thin, and she's afraid that if she prays the wrong way it'll somehow count against the person behind those doors.

If that's you, I want you to hear something Paul wrote for exactly this morning.

Likewise the Spirit also helps in our weaknesses. For we do not know what we should pray for as we ought, but the Spirit Himself makes intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered. (Romans 8:26)

What's the weakness he's talking about? It's not a lack of discipline. It's not knowing what to pray. Paul just admitted he doesn't always know either. And what's the groaning? Some folks hear a sound in it, or a prayer language. I don't think that's the point. It's a longing too deep for words. It's the thing in your chest that you can't get into a sentence, and the Spirit who lives in you isn't waiting for you to clean it up first.

I've sat in this one myself. When my mom had a stroke and my dad was in the middle of seven weeks of radiation, I stood up on a Sunday and told our church that these bodies are groaning and they're not fixed yet. I wasn't short on faith when I said it. I was reading Romans 8 out loud.

"But the Prayer of Faith Will Save the Sick"

Someone may hand you this verse today, maybe gently and maybe not, usually while they're trying to help:

Is anyone among you sick? Let him call for the elders of the church, and let them pray over him, anointing him with oil in the name of the Lord. And the prayer of faith will save the sick, and the Lord will raise him up. (James 5:14-15)

It's a real promise, and it's a beautiful picture of a church that shows up. But if you read it as a formula, it turns every hard outcome into a grade on somebody's faith. That's a weight James never put on a family in a waiting room. Look at who he tells to pray. It's the elders, the body, people gathered around the bed. He's describing a community that carries its sick to God together, not a test the patient's family passes or fails. I've written more about that letter in The Prayer of a Righteous Person, and the short version is that the prayer that pleases God is the one you bring, not the one you get exactly right.

Prayer Gives You Access

So how do you pray when you're afraid? Like Jesus did. Ask for what you want. Ask boldly and specifically. Tell your Father you're scared. The writer of Hebrews says to come boldly to the throne of grace and find grace to help in time of need (Hebrews 4:16), and a hospital at 6:42 in the morning is about as close to a time of need as most of us get.

Prayer doesn't put you in charge of the outcome, and in Gethsemane the cup wasn't taken away. But Jesus didn't walk out of that garden alone or unheard. He got up off the ground and went to meet what was coming with His Father's hand on Him.

Some mornings the only prayer you'll manage is His name, said under your breath while you watch the doors, and He hears that as the whole prayer. Because of what Jesus did, you aren't calling out to a God on the other side of a wall. His Spirit is in you, sitting in that plastic chair with you.

Whenever I am afraid, I will trust in You. (Psalm 56:3)