Heb. 5:7 says, referring to Jesus, "he offered up prayers and petitions" (NIV). The Greek words Paul uses here are deēseis and hiketērias. I stumbled upon these words this morning.
These are strong terms. "Prayers and petitions" doesn't seem forceful enough to me. Based on their usage, the terms perhaps lend themselves to the following paraphrase: "He offered up definite, specific petitions for what he not only wanted but needed, as well as urgent pleas for protection in the midst of impending calamity." At times, our Lord agonized like this in prayer, even to the point of begging. His prayers included loud, vocal outbursts under intense emotional strain. He experienced physical and psychological suffering, as we sometimes do. His agony was so severe that he sweat "as it were great drops of blood" (Luke 22:44).
I can remember praying this way after Becky went home to glory. The Lord had allowed me to become a widower. And what do widowers do? They go on living in a fractured world, grieving in one way or the other the effects of sin. Even so, they discover that in their sorrow God gives them himself. In their loneliness he comes to meet them and will not, no matter how it appears in their aloneness, abandon them. Death is an evil that resulted from man's decision to disobey. So we should not be surprised by death. Did I grieve? I did. My house now seemed empty -- the house Becky and I designed and built, the house we furnished with love, every nook and cranny reminding me of her presence and personality. Did I pour out my soul with "prayers and petitions"? I did -- often. And in praying, I found peace. Peace of this sort comes, not by the removal of sickness and suffering, but by acceptance. I was learning that the same Lord who had given me the gift of marriage had now given me the gift of singleness. It was now my cross to bear. The cross is a sign of loss. Not just loss, but total loss. Yet Jesus' loss meant gain for the whole world. He walked out of the grave not only as the King of kings and the Lord of Lords but as the Death of death. Whether we live or die, we belong to the Lord.
And so the widower lives each hour of every day with him as Lord. All that the widower has, all that he suffers, all that he has lost has been joyfully placed at his disposal. The Lord can do anything he wants with him. For Jesus too walked this lonesome valley. He bore our griefs, carried our sorrows, begged and pleaded with great drops of blood on our behalf. Such a Savior can heal the broken in spirit and bind up their wounds. He gives a renewed heart to the humble and his pleasure to those who fear him.