There are moments in Scripture when a familiar passage suddenly feels unfamiliar. Not because the words have changed, but because life has given us a different set of ears with which to hear them. That happened to my wife and me this past Sunday while visiting a family member’s church. The message centered on the Lord’s Prayer, specifically the words, “Your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven,” and took us to Matthew 26, where Jesus enters the Garden of Gethsemane knowing what awaits him.

Overwhelmed with anguish, Jesus asks the Father whether the cup of suffering might pass from him. He also invites three of his closest disciples into this vulnerable moment. He doesn’t ask them to prevent his arrest or find another way to accomplish his mission. He simply asks them to stay awake.

And they fall asleep.

That detail has never felt quite as heavy as it did this Sunday.

When Presence Is All Someone Is Asking For

My wife and I know something about the loneliness that accompanies suffering. Our daughter, Jubilee, spent 393 days in the NICU before passing away in September 2022. Throughout that journey and its aftermath, we experienced extraordinary kindness, but also the painful realization that some people we expected to remain close simply didn’t.

I don’t share that to compare our suffering to Christ’s or suggest that everyone who struggled to show up acted maliciously. Grief is complicated, and even those who genuinely care sometimes don’t know what to do with another person’s pain. Nevertheless, there’s a particular heartbreak that comes when the people you hoped would stay awake cannot, or do not. We weren’t expecting anyone to fix what was happening. Sometimes we simply needed someone to remain present.

That distinction matters beyond personal tragedy. It matters in the workplace, too.

The People Behind the Productivity

Most of us spend significant portions of our lives alongside people whose struggles we know very little about. We see their emails, deadlines, performance, and participation in meetings, but rarely know what happened before they logged in that morning. The coworker struggling to concentrate may be caring for an aging parent. The employee who seems withdrawn may be navigating a marriage crisis. The colleague who misses a deadline may be carrying grief that has no visible expiration date.

Christian vocation challenges us to see beyond the work being produced and recognize the dignity of the person producing it. That doesn’t mean abandoning accountability, ignoring deadlines, or turning every workplace conversation into a counseling session. It means understanding that compassion and professional excellence are not competing responsibilities.

People are not interruptions to our calling. People are often where our calling becomes visible.

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When someone shares something painful, our instinct may be to offer advice, explain what God might be doing, or find an encouraging Scripture. We want to help, but sometimes our desire to make things better prevents us from recognizing what someone actually needs.

Gethsemane offers a different picture. Jesus didn’t need his disciples to explain suffering to him. He needed their companionship.

For Christian workers, that kind of presence can be remarkably practical. It might mean listening without immediately redirecting a conversation toward the next task, checking in weeks after everyone else has stopped asking, or helping redistribute responsibilities when our authority allows it. Sometimes it means acknowledging that we’re not equipped to provide the support someone needs and helping them find appropriate assistance.

The objective isn’t to become everyone’s counselor. It’s to become someone whose professional responsibilities don’t prevent them from recognizing another person’s humanity.

When “Your Will Be Done” Becomes Difficult

The central prayer of Sunday’s message was not simply Jesus’ request for companionship. It was his surrender.

“My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as you will.” — Matthew 26:39

Jesus did not approach the Father pretending suffering was easy. He didn’t minimize his anguish or conceal his desire for a different outcome. He asked honestly and repeatedly before surrendering to the Father’s will.

That’s an important distinction for Christians who have been taught, explicitly or implicitly, that faith should make suffering easier to accept. Jesus’ anguish was not evidence of insufficient faith, and his surrender did not require him to pretend that what awaited him was painless.

The message described this tension through three movements: reckon, request, and respond. We reckon honestly with our circumstances and the character of God. We request what we long for, trusting that God hears us even when the outcome remains uncertain. And we respond by entrusting ourselves to his will, sometimes taking the next faithful step without receiving the explanation we hoped for.

This framework matters when supporting others through difficult seasons. Faithfulness doesn’t require us to pretend painful circumstances are good, offer convenient theological explanations, or suggest that continued suffering reflects insufficient faith. We can believe God is good without claiming to understand everything he allows. We can pray for healing without promising a particular outcome. And we can trust in God’s ultimate restoration while acknowledging that some losses remain painfully present throughout this life.

A Workplace That Knows How to Stay Awake

What would it look like for Christian workers to take the disciples’ failure in Gethsemane seriously? Not as an opportunity to criticize Peter, James, and John from the comfort of hindsight, but as an invitation to examine our own attentiveness.

Workplaces naturally reward productivity, efficiency, and results. Those are legitimate priorities, but they can also make us less attentive to the people around us. We become absorbed in deadlines, assume someone else is checking in, or avoid conversations that might become uncomfortable.

For supervisors, staying awake might mean creating an environment where employees can communicate legitimate personal difficulties without automatically being perceived as unreliable. For colleagues, it might mean practicing discretion, offering appropriate assistance, and resisting the temptation to turn someone’s hardship into workplace conversation. For those in healthcare, education, ministry, nonprofit leadership, and other people-centered vocations, it means remembering that compassion is not merely a desirable personality trait. It is part of the responsibility that comes with serving human beings.

Regardless of our profession, Christian witness isn’t confined to explicitly religious activity. Sometimes it’s expressed through the patience we extend, the burdens we help carry, and the dignity we preserve when another person’s life becomes difficult. We don’t have to turn every encounter into a sermon. We can simply be faithful neighbors.

The Ministry of Remembering

One thing grief has taught me is that presence matters long after the initial crisis has passed. In the early days of suffering, people often send messages, offer meals, pray, and express concern. Those gestures matter, but suffering doesn’t necessarily follow the timeline of public attention. Eventually, life resumes its ordinary rhythms, even when the grieving person’s life never returns to what it was.

This is where the ministry of remembering becomes especially meaningful. A brief message months later, acknowledgment of a difficult anniversary, or simple question asked without expecting a positive answer can communicate something profound to someone who feels forgotten.

Your suffering has not made you invisible.

These gestures may seem insignificant within the larger machinery of professional life, but they are practical expressions of Christian vocation. They remind us that bringing God’s kingdom into our working lives sometimes begins with becoming people who notice, remember, and remain.

Beyond Sunday

There is a beautiful tension in Gethsemane. The disciples failed to stay awake with Jesus, yet he continued toward the cross, where his love would be demonstrated even for those who abandoned him. Their failure was real, but it wasn’t the final word.

None of us will practice the ministry of presence perfectly. We’ll miss opportunities, misunderstand people, and occasionally become so consumed by our responsibilities that we fail to recognize what someone else is carrying. Grace doesn’t erase those failures, but it invites us to become more attentive.

When we pray, “Your will be done,” we’re not merely asking God to accomplish something beyond our ordinary lives. We’re opening ourselves to the possibility that his will might be expressed through our conversations, leadership, professional responsibilities, and willingness to remain present when there’s nothing we can fix.

My wife and I left church carrying a renewed awareness of just how much that matters. We know what it feels like when people stay, and we know what it feels like when they don’t. Both experiences have shaped us. My hope is that they’ll continue shaping how we approach our vocations, not with bitterness toward those who fell asleep, but with a greater determination to remain awake when someone else needs us.

Because sometimes the most meaningful expression of faith in the workplace isn’t found in what we accomplish. It’s found in the person who knows they didn’t have to walk through something alone.

Sometimes, the most faithful thing we can do is stay awake.