In Jesus’ darkest hour, He didn’t offer eloquence.
He didn’t deliver a speech or craft the perfect prayer.
He said the same words. Again.
He just had honest words in the audience of His Father.
Jesus, the Son of God, repeating the same plea should shatter any performance mindsets I so often default to.
He brought His pain again. He brought the same request again. He trusted that His Father still listened.
And He did it all in the tension of surrender.
Sometimes, the only prayer I have left is the same one I said yesterday — and the day before that. But apparently, that’s enough.
While Jesus poured out His soul in anguish, His closest friends couldn’t even stay awake. Three times He returned to find them sleeping. And on the third time, He didn’t rage. He didn’t shame.
He simply said, “That is enough. The hour has come.”
Jesus was clear and calm in the face of the heaviest struggle of His human experience.
This week, I faced a situation that tested my emotions. A moment where I felt unseen, misunderstood, and accused. A moment where months of effort seemed to be ignored or dismissed. Where someone I thought was aligned with with a joint mission chose a rogue pathway.
These kinds of moments can tempt you to question your resolve and sometimes, even your identity.
But I didn’t break.
I didn’t emotionally lash out.
And I didn’t retreat.
I stood. Not because I had the strength on my own, but because I knew who I was and what God had asked me to do. That’s the resolve Jesus modeled…walking toward pain with clarity, not control.
And then God showed up.
A few voices spoke up. Others who saw what I saw. Who defended the truth. Who, without being asked, stood in powerful agreement. That moment of support didn’t erase the challenge, but it reminded me of this:
God never leaves us standing alone. Sometimes He confirms His presence through the courage of others.
“Get up, let’s go,” Jesus said.
Not “let’s wait for things to get better.”
Not “let’s retaliate.”
Just…move forward.
That’s our choice daily. Even when people don’t understand. Even when things feel unfair. Even when I feel worn out and tired of having to be the one who holds the line. Because the real work isn’t in controlling outcomes, it’s in walking with God when the outcome is still uncertain.
Sometimes spiritual maturity isn’t loud.
Sometimes it’s silent surrender.
Sometimes it’s just showing up praying, the same prayer, again and again and still choosing trust.
And sometimes, God sends a few others to stand with you, just so you know you’re not crazy — and you’re not alone.
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