A few weeks ago I was in a waiting room at St. Jude hospital. Several Highland members and I were waiting with the Head family as their daughter Carson underwent her second lung surgery. Our large group of pink-shirted people filled the tiny waiting room, with the exception of a few seats.
Two of those remaining seats were filled with a couple from Tulsa, OK. Four years earlier they had lived in the Target House in Memphis for a year while their then thirteen-year-old son underwent seven surgeries for a brain tumor. St. Jude doctors warned the parents that their son Isaac would likely be mentally impaired from the surgeries. They cautioned that Isaac might never walk again. But miraculously, Isaac came through the surgeries with great success. The surgery and treatment completely removed the cancer. And the only significant impact was the paralysis of the left side of this face. The couple was back in Memphis so St. Jude doctors could bring those dead nerves in Isaac’s face back to life.
As we chatted with the couple, they told us with great joy that Isaac had recently attended a Christian youth event in Nashville. There, he had decided to become a Christian. Many of us might take such a decision for granted. That’s what we expect from a teenager raised in a strong Christian home. But for this couple, as they explained, Isaac’s faith and desire to become a Christian was as miraculous as his brain surgery. They described how faith had been very hard for Isaac. The brain tumor, the surgeries, the cancer treatments, and the facial paralysis had left Isaac with many questions. Why would God allow this to happen? Where was God in the midst of this? What kind of God would allow young people to get such serious diseases? Thankfully, Isaac had worked through the hard questions and come to faith in Christ.
For most of us, pain and suffering like this are THE place where faith is most tested. It’s easy to believe and trust in God when it feels like the Father’s blessing you with rainbows in the sky, a strong family, a fulfilling job, success at school, and financial stability. But when life takes a turn it suddenly gets much harder to believe and trust.
One thing has helped followers of God hold on to faith even in the midst of pain and suffering: lament prayers. Especially the lament prayers found in the book of Psalms. Many of the Psalms teach us to take our pain to God and to be open and honest with God about it. That’s what lament means. One word we might use to describe lament prayers is “authenticity.” The Bible teaches us to pray with authenticity when we are hurting.
For example, David prays in Ps. 13: “How long, O LORD? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I take counsel in my soul and have sorrow in my heart all the day? How long shall my enemy be exalted over me?” (Ps. 13:1-2 ESV)
David is open and honest with God about his situation. He is authentic with God. In other words, David brings his whole self to God. He doesn’t just bring the polite, respectful and reverent self. He brings his raw, impolite, seemingly irreverent and seemingly disrespectful self. He prays with authenticity.
You may be familiar with the comedy/ tragedy masks often seen in theatre-related venues. One mask is permanently smiling. The other mask is permanently frowning. They represent the two ends of the spectrum of human emotion. They represent the two sides of ourselves. And the Psalms teach us that it’s OK to bring both masks into prayer. It’s especially OK to bring that tragedy mask into prayer and be authentic with God about our pain and problems.
For many Christians, this is a revelation. I remember a conversation with a Christian woman several years ago. I was teaching a Wednesday night class on the lament Psalms and the woman came up to me afterwards. She said, “I never knew it was OK to say those kinds of things to God.” For virtually her entire adult life, she had only ever brought part of herself to God—her polite, respectful and reverent self. She only brought the smiling comedy mask into prayer. But, she was learning, it was acceptable, and even expected, that she bring the rest of her as well. It was truly OK to say these kinds of things to God. It was OK to bring the other mask as well. God wanted her to pray with authenticity.
And that’s one of the amazing things we see in the life of Jesus. Jesus brings his whole self to his Father. He wears both masks in prayer.
For example, listen to this text: 39 And going a little farther he fell on his face and prayed, saying, “My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as you will.” 40 And he came to the disciples and found them sleeping. And he said to Peter, “So, could you not watch with me one hour? 41 Watch and pray that you may not enter into temptation. The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.” 42 Again, for the second time, he went away and prayed, “My Father, if this cannot pass unless I drink it, your will be done.” 43 And again he came and found them sleeping, for their eyes were heavy. 44 So, leaving them again, he went away and prayed for the third time, saying the same words again. (Matt. 26:39-44 ESV)
Three times Jesus is real with the Father. Three times Jesus is all frowns: “Let this cup pass from me. Let this cup pass from me. Let this cup pass from me.” (Jesus is referring to the crucifixion and using an image from the Old Testament–the image of drinking a cup of suffering.) Jesus does not want to suffer. He’s deeply troubled by the cross which is coming his way. So he’s honest with God about it. He is authentic. He brings his whole self to God.
But what’s also remarkable about this moment in Jesus’ life is what happens before this prayer. Listen to these words: 36 Then Jesus went with them to a place called Gethsemane, and he said to his disciples, “Sit here, while I go over there and pray.” 37 And taking with him Peter and the two sons of Zebedee, he began to be sorrowful and troubled. 38 Then he said to them, “My soul is very sorrowful, even to death; remain here, and watch with me.” (Matt. 26:36-38 ESV)
What Jesus does in vs. 36 is predictable. He arrives at the place where he’s going to be authentic with God. And at first it looks like he’s going to create some privacy. He tells the disciples, “Sit here, while I go over there and pray.” You guys stay here. I need some alone time with God. It seems as if Jesus is returning to the hub of solitude which we spoke about two Sundays ago.
But what Jesus does in vs. 37 is unpredictable. He “takes” “with him” three of the disciples: Peter and the two sons of Zebedee. The two sons of Zebedee are James and John. Jesus intentionally takes Peter, James and John with him into this private place of prayer. This isn’t the first time Jesus has singled out these three to be with him in a special way. Peter, James and John often accompanied Jesus in more intimate and private settings. And, once again, Jesus intentionally takes these three friends with him.
And notice–it’s only once Jesus is alone “with” these three friends that he “began to be sorrowful and troubled.” It’s almost as if Jesus has been holding his anxiety and pain inside. And only once he’s alone with his three closest three friends can he let it out. He can finally be authentic.
Before Jesus is authentic with God, he is authentic with these three friends. Jesus doesn’t keep his happy-face on. He begins to be sorrowful and troubled with his friends. And just in case they don’t get it, he spells it out for them: “My soul is very sorrowful, even to death.”
Jesus didn’t just bring his whole self to his Father; he brought his whole self to his friends. He wasn’t just authentic with God. He was authentic with friends. Jesus had some friends with whom he was authentic enough to take off that smiling mask and put on that frowning mask.
It’s something that not all of us are willing to do. In his book Invisible Men, Michael Addis tells the true story of a man named Patrick.[1] Patrick seemed to be a happily-married family man who ran a successful business. But he had just attempted suicide. After some prodding from Addis, Patrick confided the events that led to his suicide attempt. It turned out that his business was not successful. It had steadily slowed until he was unable to make the mortgage payment on their new house. Things went downhill financially from there. Then the economy crashed. And he hadn’t shared this with anyone. Dr. Addis writes this:
[But] it was Patrick’s response to these events that really struck me. Rather than letting his wife and close friends know about the struggles he was facing, Patrick kept it all to himself…He couldn’t face working, but he also couldn’t face telling people how bad things had gotten ….
“How could I face them?” he asked. “What would they think of me? In their eyes I’d look like a has-been, somebody whose time had come and gone, only because he couldn’t handle it.”
“But those were extremely difficult experiences you had,” I said. “Nobody could have foreseen the financial difficulties.”
“I should have been able to. Besides, that’s not what I’m talking about. I should have been able to handle it emotionally. Instead, I fell apart and turned into a sniveling little boy. What was I going to say, ‘Oh, Mommy, please help me?’ I couldn’t let people see me like that.” (Michael E. Addis, Invisible Men (Times Books, 2011), 3-6.)
It’s one thing to let God see us like that. But it’s another thing to let friends see us like that. Many of us never want our friends to see us with anything but that smiling mask. Jesus was different. Jesus not only brought his whole self to God. He brought his whole self to his friends. And in front of them, he, in Patrick’s words, “fell apart and turned into a sniveling little boy.” He was as authentic with his closest friends as he was with his Father.
Why? Jesus needed this. He could have easily left these three with the other disciples and never revealed his pain to them. But he intentionally chose to confess his hurt to them. Specifically, he depended upon friends for three things in the midst of pain. Listen once again to Jesus’ words to the three: Then he said to them, “My soul is very sorrowful, even to death; remain here, and watch with me.” (Matt. 26:38 ESV)
In this short statement, Jesus demonstrates three reasons why he needs to be authentic with some friends in the mist of pain. First, Jesus needed friends who could listen to his pain. Jesus didn’t just need a Heavenly Father who could listen to his hurt. He needed friends who could listen to his hurt. Once alone with the three, he pours out his pain: “My soul is very sorrowful, even to death.” Remarkably, Jesus needed friends with whom he could open up and share his deepest pain.
If Jesus needed this, don’t you? How many of you have intentionally surrounded yourself with a handful of friends who can listen to you? How many of you have hand-selected a few individuals with whom you know you can share your darkest moments? People with whom you can wear that tragedy mask?
Second, Jesus needed friends who could live with him in pain. Jesus makes a request of these three: “remain here.” This is the same language Jesus used elsewhere when he said, “I am the vine, you are the branches. Whoever abides in me, and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit.” (John 15:5 ESV). The word “abide” is the same word “remain.” It refers to moving in and settling down. Jesus isn’t just asking for these three to temporarily stand by in case they are needed. He’s saying, “This is the moment in my life when I need you guys to move in and live with me. I need you to plant yourselves firmly in my life and refuse to leave.”
If Jesus needed this, don’t you? How many of you have intentionally surrounded yourself with a handful of friends and then told them, “I need you to move in; settle down; live with me and never leave”?
Third, Jesus needed friends who could look out for him in his pain. Jesus makes a second request: “watch with me.” Now, the words can be translated “stay awake with me.” But they can mean much more. Peter uses this same word when he writes this: “…be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour.” (1 Pet. 5:8 ESV) Jesus is asking for these three to be watchful with him. To look out for him. Not only for those humans who are seeking him. But ultimately for the devil who is seeking him. Jesus knows that the devil is on the prowl. And he’s asking these friends to help him keep a watchful eye out.
If Jesus needed this, don’t you? How many of you have intentionally surrounded yourself with a handful of people whom you’ve asked to help watch out for Satan’s tricks and lies in your life?
Jesus intentionally depended upon friends to whom he could bring his whole self. He could bring his pain for a listening ear. He could bring his need for live-in fellowship. He could bring his desire for help in looking out. In these three ways, Jesus brought his whole self to this small group. He wore both masks. He was authentic with them. And he teaches us to do the same.
Too many of us simply bring the comedy mask to our friendships. We’re always positive. We’re always filled with praise. We’re always giving and never asking. But Jesus’ example urges us to also bring the tragedy mask. The sadness. The hurt. The pain. The need for ongoing fellowship. The need for a listening ear. The need for help in looking out for that diabolical devil and his crafty ways.
And one reason we need this is because of the impact it makes on our relationship with God. For many of us, we grow in our authenticity with our Father as we grow in our authenticity with our friends. Klaus Issler writes this:[2]
“Yet if we wish to keep on moving toward a full-orbed friendship with God, we must grow in our relationships with others within the body of Christ in order to stretch our emotional and social capacities for befriending the God who is love….close friendships are essential for all believers, not only for the joy they give to us, not only for the contribution they bring to Christian community, but also for the help they provide in relating to God. If we do not increase our experiences of intimacy on the human plane, we limit the kind of intimate relationship we can experience with God.”
In other words, if we only wear the comedy mask around our friends, it’s going to be hard to take it off when we’re with God. But the more authentic we become with our friends, the more authentic we become with God. The two are interrelated.
That’s why Highland’s small groups are so important. Whether it’s a Reach Group or a prayer group or a men’s or women’s group or some other group, our small groups provide the best potential for these types of friendships to develop. This morning we want to make one last pitch to encourage you to sign up in The Commons or online. In a small group you can find people who will listen to you, live with you, and look out for you. In a small group you can bring your whole self to others. And, in doing so, you’ll become better able to bring your whole self to God.
[1] Michael E. Addis, Invisible Men (Times Books, 2011), 3-6.
[2] Klaus Issler, Wasting Time With God (IVP, 2001), 39.
