Jesus knew what was coming. He knew the betrayal, the mocking, the scourging, and the brutal crucifixion that awaited Him. Yet in that moment of His humanity, He prayed honestly before His Father. He did not pretend the suffering would be easy, and He certainly did not mask the weight of what was ahead. He prayed desperately, and the author of Hebrews wrote in Hebrews 5:7-9 that Jesus, “offered up both prayers and pleas with loud crying and tears,” and through what He suffered, He learned obedience. That does not mean that Christ was ever disobedient, but that in enduring the suffering, He demonstrated what true obedience looks like by submitting fully to the will of the Father even when the path led through unimaginable pain. 

 

The model that Jesus showed in Gethsemane is an important reminder for us as we observe Christ’s life, death, and resurrection. Sometimes prayer is anything but calm, collected, and polished. Sometimes it is ugly and filled with lament. It can be raw and unfiltered to the point that it might even sound like, “Lord, do You even hear me?” or ”Do my prayers even work?” Let it be known that those are not faithless questions either. In fact, Scripture shows us that lamenting is deeply biblical. 

 

On the cross, Jesus cried out the beginning of Psalm 22, “Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?”—”My God, My God, why have you forsaken Me?” (Mark 15:34). While Jesus was expressing deep agony in that moment, He was also pointing those witnessing His death to the entire Psalm, which is a passage that prophetically describes being pierced, mocked, and having garments divided. In that cry He let out, there was honesty and lament, but there was also trust, because even in the midst of that terrible anguish, Jesus was still addressing God as My God.

 

At TRM, we see why desperate prayer matters. Every day, we encounter the realities of addiction, trauma, broken relationships, and years (sometimes decades) of pain. These are not neat circumstances with easy solutions. They are the kinds of circumstances that push people to the point of desperation. Sometimes, desperation leads people to cry out to God, asking for deliverance from their bondage. Other times, it leads to destructive behaviors as people try to numb their pain and regain some sense of control. Either way, we have seen both. 

 

One moment that deeply marked our team happened in April 2025 when one of our staff members was brutally attacked. The attack shook our staff and reminded us how real the brokenness of this world can be. While we did not know if our friend and coworker was going to survive or not, we lifted up prayers for protection, prayers for healing, and prayers asking God to intervene. And He did. The recovery that followed was nothing short of remarkable. It was a powerful reminder that even in the moments that feel overwhelming and the world says everything is over, our Lord says, “No. I’ve only just begun.”  

 

While it was an absolute miracle, and it still is, that our friend is recovering and doing well, not every situation unfolds the way we hope it will. Sometimes, we see the heartbreak of relapse and the struggle of someone trying to rebuild their life after years of abuse and trauma. We see the difficulty people face in trusting that God will provide in His way and in His time because when progress feels slow, it can be tempting to wonder if God is truly moving. 

 

We are learning that those are moments when desperate prayer becomes essential, because it is not just about asking God to change our circumstances. It is about placing those circumstances into His hands and saying, “Lord, I have no control. This is bigger than me.” Prayers like this remind us that faith does not mean we pretend the pain is not real. When Jesus prayed in Gethsemane, His suffering did not disappear because the cross still awaited Him. But by His model of submission, what happened in the garden was just as significant as what happened on Calvary. In that moment, Jesus submitted Himself fully to His Father’s will, saying, “Not My will, but Yours be done.” This was the movement from desperation to submission, and it is a movement many of us must take in our own prayers. 

 

Most of the time, we want God to answer our prayers in big, dramatic ways. We want to see an instant breakthrough and an unmistakable miracle that resolves the struggle in a single moment. Now, sometimes, God works that way, but more often, His work is quieter than we expect. We long for reconciliation and freedom from addiction or trauma. It might be a staff member sitting with someone hungry and alone, or a guest choosing to stay one more night instead of walking away. Sometimes, it is a heart softening after years of resisting God’s grace. If we only watch for big, life-changing moments, we might miss what God does in small ones, where healing often begins. 

 

We may not yet see the full picture, but Christ’s life, death, and resurrection remind us that His work does not end with the suffering on the cross. This month, as we reflect on Easter and the resurrection of Christ, perhaps the invitation for all of us is to bring our honest, raw prayers before the Lord. To pray with the same humility and openness that Jesus modeled for us in Gethsemane. And to trust that even when we cannot see the outcome, God is still at work. Remember, desperate prayer is not a sign of weakened faith. It might be the very place where faith grows the strongest, because when our prayers move from desperation to submission, we begin to see something truly remarkable—the quiet, steady work of a God who is making all things new.

​

​

​