The Beautiful Upset: WK5 - TUE
THE PRAYER WE KNOW BUT RESIST
Mark 14:35–36 (NLT) “‘Abba, Father,’ he cried out, ‘everything is possible for you. Please take this cup of suffering away from me. Yet I want your will to be done, not mine.’”
This is the prayer most of us know by heart but struggle to pray with honesty: “Your will be done.” Sometimes praying can feel like gravel in the mouth, hard and uncomfortable. It’s easy to pray for God to change circumstances. It’s much harder to pray for God to change us in the middle of them.
A dad once told me about a long, exhausting season with his teenage son. They kept missing each other, every conversation turning into an argument, every attempt at connection dissolving into silence. His daily prayer was simple: “God, fix him. Make him open up. Help him communicate.” But one night, while praying that same prayer for the hundredth time, he sensed a different invitation: “Would you let Me adjust your expectations first?” He realized he wasn’t praying for relationship, he was praying for his son to become easier. So, he shifted the prayer. Instead of “God, change him,” he prayed, “God, grow me. Make me patient. Make me safe to talk to. Make me someone who listens without rushing to fix.” Nothing dramatic happened overnight. The son didn’t suddenly become expressive or articulate. But something in him changed. He slowed down. He softened. And in that new posture, his son eventually opened up. The circumstance didn’t transform first, the parent did.
This is the move Jesus makes in Gethsemane. He names His desire honestly, “Take this cup away”, but He doesn’t stop there. He keeps praying until His heart is aligned with the Father’s will, not His own. Three times He returns to the same prayer, not because God is hard of hearing, but because surrender is rarely a single moment. It’s a rhythm and a return to the same desire to the same pain. And sometimes God changes the situation, sometimes God changes the timing, but often God begins by changing us.
And that transformation usually happens in the quiet space where we finally pray, “Not my will, but Yours.”
Mark 14:35–36 (NLT) “‘Abba, Father,’ he cried out, ‘everything is possible for you. Please take this cup of suffering away from me. Yet I want your will to be done, not mine.’”
This is the prayer most of us know by heart but struggle to pray with honesty: “Your will be done.” Sometimes praying can feel like gravel in the mouth, hard and uncomfortable. It’s easy to pray for God to change circumstances. It’s much harder to pray for God to change us in the middle of them.
A dad once told me about a long, exhausting season with his teenage son. They kept missing each other, every conversation turning into an argument, every attempt at connection dissolving into silence. His daily prayer was simple: “God, fix him. Make him open up. Help him communicate.” But one night, while praying that same prayer for the hundredth time, he sensed a different invitation: “Would you let Me adjust your expectations first?” He realized he wasn’t praying for relationship, he was praying for his son to become easier. So, he shifted the prayer. Instead of “God, change him,” he prayed, “God, grow me. Make me patient. Make me safe to talk to. Make me someone who listens without rushing to fix.” Nothing dramatic happened overnight. The son didn’t suddenly become expressive or articulate. But something in him changed. He slowed down. He softened. And in that new posture, his son eventually opened up. The circumstance didn’t transform first, the parent did.
This is the move Jesus makes in Gethsemane. He names His desire honestly, “Take this cup away”, but He doesn’t stop there. He keeps praying until His heart is aligned with the Father’s will, not His own. Three times He returns to the same prayer, not because God is hard of hearing, but because surrender is rarely a single moment. It’s a rhythm and a return to the same desire to the same pain. And sometimes God changes the situation, sometimes God changes the timing, but often God begins by changing us.
And that transformation usually happens in the quiet space where we finally pray, “Not my will, but Yours.”
- Where do you feel the tension between your will and God’s?
- What would “Your will be done” look like today—not theoretically, but practically?
- How might repeated prayer open you to God’s strength?
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