The Desert | An Encounter with Our Hearts

Date: 16 August 2026 | Pre­a­cher:
Series: | Bible text: Matthew 26:36–46
Hint: This ser­mon has been machi­ne trans­la­ted. Plea­se note that we can­not accept any respon­si­bi­li­ty for the accu­ra­cy of the content.

Geth­se­ma­ne shows us that true pray­er does not begin with the right words, but with an open heart. Jesus pours out his fee­lings, his desi­res and, ulti­m­ate­ly, his trust to his Father. We, too, may tell God ever­y­thing and place our will in his hands. Espe­ci­al­ly during the bar­ren times of our lives, he does not lea­ve us alo­ne, but car­ri­es us as a father car­ri­es his child – step by step along the path of trust.


In the last ser­mon, we saw that Jesus repea­ted­ly sought out quiet places. Not becau­se he wan­ted to escape from peo­p­le, but becau­se he sought fel­low­ship with his Father.

Today, Jesus takes us one step fur­ther. Silence is not an end in its­elf. It has a pur­po­se. It leads us to the place whe­re our hearts meet God. And the­re is no more striking place for this than the Gar­den of Geth­se­ma­ne. Here we do not see Jesus as a tea­cher addres­sing a lar­ge crowd. Not as a mira­cle-worker. Not as the king whom the peo­p­le are cele­bra­ting. Here we encoun­ter the Son of God, made man, in his deepest distress.

It is pre­cis­e­ly for this reason that we learn some­thing cru­cial about pray­er here. For we dis­co­ver that: True pray­er does not begin with fine words, but with an open heart.

God invites us to pour out our hearts to him

Matthew descri­bes a har­ro­wing sce­ne. Jesus goes with his disci­ples to the Gar­den of Geth­se­ma­ne. Then he takes Peter, James and John with him and says to them: «My soul is deep­ly grie­ved. Stay here and keep watch with me» (Matthew 26:38 NLB). What a state­ment. Jesus does not hide his fee­lings. He does not pre­tend other­wi­se. He does not say: «A Nati­ve Ame­ri­can feels no pain» or «I have to be strong now» or «I am God’s Son, so I must not show any fear». No.». He lays his heart bare. He calls his fee­lings by their pro­per names. Grief. Fear. Deep distress.

Here we learn some­thing important: God does not expect us to put on a pious faça­de. We some­ti­mes think that pray­er has to sound par­ti­cu­lar­ly beau­tiful. We search for the right words. But God does not seek fine words. He seeks a sin­ce­re heart. That is why the Psalms are so pre­cious. More than half of the Psalms are laments.

David cries out. He weeps. He laments. He asks ques­ti­ons. He wrest­les. And God has included all the­se pray­ers in his Word. Why? Becau­se God pre­fers hones­ty to pie­ty. Per­haps we car­ry around worries that we don’t talk about with anyo­ne. Dis­ap­point­ments. Guilt. Fears. Hurt feelings.

It is in the silence that the­se things often come to the sur­face. Many peo­p­le are alar­med by this. They think: «I real­ly ought to be fur­ther along by now.»But per­haps God shows us the­se things pre­cis­e­ly becau­se he wants to heal them.

This quiet place is not dan­ge­rous. It is the place whe­re God brings our hearts into the light. Not to judge us, but to meet us.

God wants to hear our wishes too

Jesus does not stop at his fee­lings. He voices his wish. «He wal­ked a litt­le fur­ther, sank to the ground and pray­ed: ‘My Father! If it is pos­si­ble, let this cup of suf­fe­ring pass from me.’ […]» (Matthew 26:39 NLB).

What a pray­er! Jesus asks his Father to find ano­ther way, if pos­si­ble. The cha­li­ce sym­bo­li­ses suf­fe­ring, the cross and God’s jud­ge­ment on sin. Jesus knows exact­ly what lies ahead. That is why he asks: «If it’s pos­si­ble ….»That’s some­thing we can learn, too.». We are allo­wed to tell God what we wish for. Some Chris­ti­ans belie­ve that true faith means no lon­ger having any wis­hes. Yet Jesus shows us the oppo­si­te. He open­ly expres­ses his deepest desi­re. We, too, may pray: «Lord, I long for heal­ing.» «I long for recon­ci­lia­ti­on.» «I hope this suf­fe­ring will come to an end.» «I hope that my child will find their way to you.» «I wish for strength.» Or alter­na­tively: «Lord, I do not wish to drink from this cup.»God is not alar­med by such pray­ers. He knows our hearts anyway.’.

Pray­er is not about informing God. Pray­er is about ope­ning our hearts to Him. In doing so, we often dis­co­ver that our desi­res are con­tra­dic­to­ry. We want to ser­ve God. And yet, at the same time, we seek our own com­fort. We want to for­gi­ve. And yet we cling to our resent­ment. We want to beco­me more like Christ. And yet, at the same time, we want to have our own way. God is awa­re of this ten­si­on. That is why we can bring ever­y­thing to him. Not­hing needs to remain hidden.

Trust grows when we surrender our will to God

Now comes the real cli­max of Jesus’ pray­er. «[…] Yet I will do your will, not mine’» (Matthew 26:39 NLB). And a litt­le later: «My Father! If this cup can­not pass from me, then let your will be done» (Matthew 26:42 NLB).

That is not resi­gna­ti­on. Jesus does not say: «Well, in that case, not­hing mat­ters.» Nor does he say: «I have no more wis­hes.» No. He has expres­sed his fee­lings. He has expres­sed his wish. And now he is pla­cing ever­y­thing in his Father’s hands. This is an act of sur­ren­der. Here, Jesus is relin­quis­hing con­trol. Isn’t that one of the most dif­fi­cult steps in our faith?

We want to be in con­trol of our lives. We make plans. We orga­ni­se things. We play it safe. Of cour­se, we should live respon­si­bly. But at some point, we reach our limits. We can­not ful­ly con­trol our health. Nor our child­ren. Nor our future. Not even the next day. How much ener­gy it takes to try to keep ever­y­thing under con­trol! Jesus shows us ano­ther way. He strug­gles. He prays. He wrest­les. And then he trusts. That is pre­cis­e­ly whe­re his free­dom lies.

The psal­mist says: «Lea­ve the gui­dance of your life to the Lord and trust in him; he will do the right thing» (Psalm 37:5 NLB).

And Solo­mon wri­tes: «Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not rely on your own under­stan­ding»(Pro­verbs 3:5 NLB).

Devo­ti­on does not mean pas­si­vi­ty. It means: I do what God asks of me today. And wha­te­ver is bey­ond my con­trol, I con­scious­ly place in His hands. For my Father reig­ns. The cross con­firms this trust. When Jesus pray­ed in Geth­se­ma­ne, He did not yet know what the Resur­rec­tion would be like. But He trus­ted His Father. And the Father did not lea­ve Him in death. That is pre­cis­e­ly why we, too, may trust. Not becau­se we know the out­co­me, but becau­se we know the Father.

How can we put this into prac­ti­ce? It starts with regu­lar­ly visi­ting our own «Gar­den of Geth­se­ma­ne». It doesn’t neces­s­a­ri­ly have to be a gar­den. But it should be a place of still­ness. A place free from dis­trac­tions. A place whe­re we can pour out our hearts to God. Per­haps three simp­le steps will help us with this.

First­ly: Bring your fee­lings to God. Call a spa­de a spade.

Second­ly: Pre­sent your wis­hes to God. Don’t hide any­thing from Him.

Third­ly: Place your trust in God. Say, as Jesus did: «I want to do your will, not my own.»

The­se three ele­ments are not found only in Geth­se­ma­ne. They are found in many Psalms. Lament. Sup­pli­ca­ti­on. Trust. This is how the Bible prays.

And so we, too, may pray. Final­ly, I would like to remind us all of one thing. Geth­se­ma­ne does not end with a pray­er. It ends with a jour­ney. Jesus rises. He goes forth to face his suf­fe­ring. He drinks the cup that we should have drunk. He takes our guilt upon hims­elf. He bears God’s wrath so that we may recei­ve for­gi­ve­ness. That is why we may come to the Father today with every cup of our life. For Christ has alre­a­dy drunk the hea­viest cup for us.

Moses later reminds the peo­p­le of Isra­el of some­thing cru­cial. He says: «You have seen how the LORD your God has car­ri­ed you all the way through the wil­der­ness to this place, just as a father car­ri­es his child» (Deu­te­ro­no­my 1:31 NLB).

What a powerful image. The desert was not mere­ly a place of pro­vi­si­on. It was also a place whe­re God sus­tained his peo­p­le. Through doubt. Through rebel­li­on. Through dis­ap­point­ments. Through pain. And per­haps, loo­king back today, we rea­li­se that wit­hout this sus­ten­an­ce, we too would have long sin­ce cea­sed to be here.

The­re is that well-known image of the foot­prints in the sand. Even in the most dif­fi­cult times of our lives, when we can see only a sin­gle foot­print, God has not for­sa­ken us. The­re, he car­ri­ed us. Just as a father car­ri­es his child.

That is why we need not fear the silence. Yes, we will some­ti­mes encoun­ter our pain the­re. But we will never be alo­ne. On the other side of our pain, it is not emp­tin­ess that awaits us. The­re, our hea­ven­ly Father awaits us, car­ry­ing us – step by step.

And in Christ we can be cer­tain that whoe­ver opens their heart to God will never come to Him in vain.

 

Possible questions for the small group

Read the Bible pas­sa­ge: Matthew 26:36–46; Psalm 13

  1. What fee­lings are you car­ry­ing around with you at the moment that you may not yet have honest­ly shared with God? What is stop­ping you from doing so?
  2. As you reflect on Jesus in Geth­se­ma­ne: What desi­re or «cup» is par­ti­cu­lar­ly on your mind at the moment? How might you con­scious­ly bring it befo­re God?
  3. In which area of your life do you find it har­dest to pray: «Not my will, but yours be done»? Why the­re of all places?”
  4. When you look back on your life: whe­re can you see that God car­ri­ed you through a time of tri­al – per­haps only in hindsight?
  5. How could you, in prac­ti­cal terms, crea­te your own «Gar­den of Geth­se­ma­ne» over the coming week – a place and a time when you can share your fee­lings, desi­res and trust with God?