Les archives vivantes se chargent.
Prayer-ology Series
Poursuivre l'exploration
Reliées par le texte biblique ou par des thèmes communs.
Cette page n’a pas encore été entièrement traduite. Une partie ou la totalité du texte ci-dessous s’affiche en English, sa langue d’origine.
Good morning, family. We're concluding our Prayer-ology series today with a message about garden prayers—a specific kind of prayer for specific seasons of life.
The Bible teaches us that all prayer is important, but not all prayer is designed for the same issue. Sometimes we face what I call garden seasons, and in those seasons, we need to pray garden prayers. That's what we're exploring together today.
Let me start with a statement that will anchor us: Every person passionate about pursuing their purpose will ultimately and eventually experience a garden season.
A garden season is when the pressure you're feeling and the problem you're facing exist because of the purpose you're chasing. It's a season where the God who gives you a purpose is the same God who gives you a problem. The God who is the author of your assignment becomes the reason for your adversity.
What do you do when God is the problem? You can tell God about the devil, but who do you talk to God about when you need to talk to God about God?
Jesus teaches us about garden prayers through his own experience in the Garden of Gethsemane. Let's look at Matthew 26:36–39:
Then Jesus went with his disciples to a place called Gethsemane, and he said to them, "Sit here while I go over there and pray." And he took Peter and the two sons of Zebedee along with him, and he began to be sorrowful and troubled. Then he said to them, "My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death. Stay here and keep watch with me." Going a little further, he fell with his face to the ground and prayed, "My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet, not as I will, but as you will."
In this passage, we see the humanity of Jesus—something we often overlook when we only emphasize his divinity. Jesus was overwhelmed, agitated, irritated, and anxious. Luke, writing as a physician, tells us even more detail in Luke 22:44:
Being in anguish, he prayed more earnestly and his sweat was like drops of blood falling to the ground.
If an immutable, omniscient, unchangeable, omnipotent Jesus can be stressed, irritated, agitated, and anxious, what makes you and me think we can't hit a season where we experience the same?
Jesus was dealing with three simultaneous challenges:
First, an emotional conundrum. He knew he would die the next day. Imagine the emotional toll of knowing, "By this time tomorrow, I'm gone."
Second, a relational conundrum. Judas, one of the twelve men Jesus had spent three years mentoring, coaching, leading, and investing in, had betrayed him for thirty pieces of silver.
Just because a betrayal doesn't stop your purpose doesn't mean it doesn't cause you pain. I can bounce back from it, but I felt it. I recovered, but I still felt it. I won, but I felt it. And I'm happy I won, but I'm still a little irritated. I'm still a little salty because I'm mad I had to go through what I had to go through to get to where I am—because you put me through it.
Judas represents greed. He was the treasurer—the keeper of the money bag—and he used to help himself to what was in it. He was an embezzler. Jesus is essentially saying: "You're stealing from me, and that's still not enough? I just washed your feet and that's not enough? I let you learn from me for three years. I took you places you would never have been exposed to without me. You were on boats with me. You saw things you'd never see. You met people you'd never meet. You got opportunities you'd never have had. And out of everybody you could have betrayed, you betrayed me."
Judas represents the person in your life where it's never enough.
Third, a spiritual conundrum. Jesus was confronting the cost of saying yes to God. We talk about how disobedience is expensive, but we need to have conversations about how obedience is expensive too. When you start walking God's way, it costs you something. When you start handling God's business, it costs you something. When you turn away from that which is ungodly, it costs you something.
But here's the truth: obedience never costs you something you can't afford to lose. God will not be outgiven. If your obedience costs you a relationship, if it costs you an opportunity, you need to know that God never makes a request of you and gives you something inferior in exchange. You can't beat God's giving no matter how hard you try.
Here's what's remarkable: Jesus went into the garden overwhelmed and anxious. But when he came out of the garden, he ran into the person responsible for putting him on the cross and said, "Do what you came for, friend." He called his betrayer friend.
You're not a friend to me personally, but you're a friend to my purpose, because you're about to put me in the grave—but God's about to raise me up. And when God raises me up, he's going to take me up.
He went in overwhelmed and anxious. He came out confident and composed.
What happened in that garden? It was in the garden experience that he prayed a garden prayer.
A garden prayer is a pressure-driven prayer that produces internal transformation before external intervention.
A garden prayer doesn't change the thing. Because this problem was attached to his purpose. The only way to get out of this problem is to get out of purpose. This crisis—the crucifixion—is connected to his calling. The only way to walk out of this crisis is to walk out of his calling.
We live in spaces where we're hearing, "You're coming out. Breakthrough is coming. It won't be long now." But sometimes the word is: You're going to be here a while.
The purpose of a garden prayer isn't to change the situation. The purpose of a garden prayer is to change me so I can handle the thing that God's not going to change.
This text teaches us three specific traits that characterize a garden prayer:
The first trait is sincerity—and I mean emotional honesty. Notice I didn't say just practical honesty or situational honesty. I said emotional honesty.
It's one thing to be honest about the situation: "This is what I'm facing." It's another thing to be honest about your emotions: "This is how it's affecting me."
Jesus goes to his disciples—just the eleven after Judas left—and tells them, "Sit here while I go over there and pray." Then he reaches into the eleven and takes three men: Peter, James, and John.
Your purpose will take you to a place of pressure where you have to leave some people at a certain place. Some of us get in trouble because we try to take the eleven to places we should only take the three.
Misguided and misdirected empathy has us considering the feelings of the eleven. So we cannot be faithful to our Father because we're considering the feelings of the eleven. We're trying to take them places they want to go but aren't called to go. If they're not called to go, they don't need to go.
Sometimes you have to let them stay and say, "I will see you in a minute."
Do you have a "them"—a three? Do you have people you can say to: "I'm tired. I'm stressed. I'm scared. I'm not okay today"?
Jesus did. So if Jesus can have a moment, you can't have a moment?
The text says Jesus took the three with him, and he began to be sorrowful and troubled. Then he said to them, "My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death. Stay here and watch with me."
He's engaging in what I call strategic vulnerability—the intentional, purposeful disclosure of your interior reality to the right people in the right moment for the right season. It's not being emotionally reckless and bleeding all over the place. It's being strategically vulnerable.
Without strategic vulnerability, you don't get intercession. Without it, you don't get support. So you have illogical agitation with people in your relational proximity because you expect them to know something you're not telling them.
Some of you are so strong, nobody knows you're weak right now. You're so composed, nobody knows you're falling apart. How am I supposed to know you're falling apart at the seams when you're always so composed? You always seem like you got it. So how am I supposed to know if you don't have it?
Jesus models this for us. He felt sorrow (verse 37), he spoke about it to his disciples (verse 38), and then he prayed about it (verse 39).
Father, if it's possible, remove this cup from me.
This is emotionally honest prayer. He's saying, "I don't want to do this anymore." Yes, he came from heaven. Yes, he said he would do this. But now he's saying, "I don't want to do this anymore."
Emotionally honest prayer doesn't just pray about the issue; it prays about the emotional condition the issue is creating in you. It doesn't just pray about the problem; it prays about what the problem is doing to you.
This is why emotionally honest prayer is so impactful. It addresses not only the issue but also the emotional impact the issue is having on you. Many people pray about their situation but don't pray about what the situation is doing to them. Therefore, when the situation changes, the damage the situation did still remains.
Emotionally honest prayer is a form of spiritual emotional regulation. Emotions that are unexpressed don't stay contained to your soul; they migrate. They show up in your decisions, your body, and your relationships.
This is what David prayed in Psalm 13:
How long, Lord? How long will you forget me forever? I feel forgotten. How long will you hide your face from me? I don't feel like you see me. How long must I wrestle with my thoughts day after day and have sorrow in my heart? How long will my enemy triumph over me?
David is being emotionally honest. "I know you say I'm more than a conqueror, but I'm losing. I'm trying to fix my attitude, I'm losing. I'm trying to fix my relationships, I'm losing. I have habits I'm trying to break, I'm losing. Have I ever gone to God and said, 'I'm losing'?"
When Luke tells the story of Jesus in the garden, he says that when Jesus got real, he got strengthened. Luke 22:43:
An angel from heaven appeared to him and strengthened him.
He got strong when he got real because God doesn't help who you pretend to be.
The second trait of a garden prayer is submission.
Notice what Jesus says: "If it's possible, remove this cup from me, not as I will but as you will."
Submission means to get below God's mission. It's not a devaluing or subjugation. It's getting under a mission.
Here's what Jesus models: He expresses his desire without demanding compliance. He says, "This is what I want," and he's not suppressing it. He's being honest about what he wants. But then he says, "I trust you enough to submit to what you want."
Submission acknowledges desire but then yields to a higher authority.
Jesus is completely honest about what he wants, and completely surrendered to what God decides. Submission isn't what happens when you give up. Submission is what happens when you grow up.
It's saying, "Father, I'm going to ask you for what I want, but I'm going to submit to what you decide. I'm going to express my desire, but I'm not going to demand compliance, because your track record says you always choose what's best for me."
When you're willing to give up a want, that becomes worship.
The third trait is synergy. Jesus, God in human form, invites three frail, imperfect men to pray with him. Peter had impulsivity issues. They had ambitions. But he invites them anyway.
He's modeling for us the power of partnership in prayer. The power of all of us is greater than the power of any one of us.
The Scripture says, "When two or three come together touching and agreeing concerning anything, there I am in the midst. One can chase a thousand, two puts ten thousand to flight."
But here's what happened: When Jesus went out to pray in the garden, the people who were supposed to be praying were sleeping.
Just like them, current disciples, we sleep on the power of corporate prayer.
Why? Because the devil uses drama to create trauma, and trauma impacts our relational operating system—the way we operate relationally. That's not how you're born; that's how you're built.
For some, trauma creates codependence: "I can't without you."
For others, it creates hyper-independence: "I don't need you."
But there's a third way: interdependence—"I can without you, but I'm better with you."
The disciples didn't ask Jesus to pray for them. He asked them. He invited them into prayer with him.
If Jesus couldn't handle a garden season by himself, why are you trying to handle yours by yourself?
When I say "the three," I don't necessarily mean three people literally. It could be one. I mean your inner circle—what that represents.
Some of you are in a garden season right now. You need garden prayers:
Jesus also told them to "watch." Some of us need people to watch for us. But sometimes I need to tell you where I am so you can watch me. "I'm weak, watch me. I'm mad, watch me. I'm tempted to text somebody back, watch me. I'm lonely, watch me. I'm frustrated, watch me. I'm stressed right now, watch me."
How much could we avoid if we would have told somebody, "Watch me"?
I'm getting ready to pray, and I'm praying that God sends someone into your life, or shows you who is already in your life, that you can invite into your garden season. You can't keep doing this by yourself.
Jesus had a moment. You think you're not going to have moments?
Get away from this presentation of Christianity that ignores even the humanity of Jesus. He had a moment.
What I sense God is doing is spiritual excavation. He's digging deep into the recesses of your soul and uncovering some things that happened with people that are showing up in your relationship with God.
Your people trust issues are showing up with him. So all you know how to do is bring half of yourself to a relationship because you never had a human one where you could bring all of you. You have a relational orientation of half showing up, and it's showing up in your prayer life.
You're emotionally editing your prayers. You're scared to say you're mad. You're scared to say you're struggling. And there are some things you don't have because you don't ask.
Secondly, I sense the Holy Spirit doing a supernatural work with soul wounds some of you are carrying. Not completely eradicating their impact, but healing you enough so that you become free to actually trust him the way he deserves to be trusted.
I also see a wrestling match where the Holy Spirit is trying to bend your will into submission. He's addressing a degree of internal rebellion because you've just committed to having your way. But you don't own your life. You are bought with a price. It's not yours. But he has plans for you—plans way better than your plans for yourself.
You can't outrun this. He's going to chase you down.
Holy Spirit, thank you for giving us a glimpse into what you're doing in the hearts of your people. In the name of Jesus, I thank you for uncovering and exposing how the issues we've experienced with people have impacted our ability to show up fully before you. I thank you for freedom from that.
We're in a season where we need a quick work. Do this supernaturally and quickly in the name of the Lord Jesus.
For those wrestling with God's will, I pray that you would give them victory over themselves. And we say: we yield and we surrender.
