Day 89

Deuteronomy 25 | John 17 | Psalm 38

There are moments in Scripture that feel too holy to read quickly.

John 17 is one of them.

Jesus isn’t teaching crowds.

He’s not feeding thousands.

He’s not flipping tables.

He’s praying.

It’s the night before the cross.

And instead of sleeping—or panicking—He lifts His eyes to heaven and prays for His disciples.

And for us.

“I do not ask for these only, but also for those who will believe in Me through their word…” (John 17:20)

That includes Peter and James and John.

But it also includes me. And it includes you.

Let that sink in.

Before the nails.

Before the mocking.

Before the darkness fell on Calvary—He prayed for us.

When Others Pray

Over the past five months, I’ve had so many people tell me they were praying for me.

After the accident. During the surgery. Throughout recovery.

Some from our church. Some from far away.

Friends, family, even people I’ve never met.

It’s humbling.

It’s encouraging.

It’s soothing.

Just last week, Tim—a deacon at our church—texted me out of the blue:

“You’ve got a lot of people praying for you.”

And I believe that. I’ve felt it.

But this morning, as I sat with John 17, I was struck by something even more staggering:

Jesus is praying for me.

The same voice that spoke galaxies into existence.

The same hands that bore my scars.

The same heart that endured the wrath I deserved—He prays for me.

Not just once. Not just then.

“He always lives to make intercession for them.” (Hebrews 7:25)

Reading that verse wakes up the journalism major in me:

That verb—lives—is present tense.

And the phrase—make intercession—comes from the Greek entygchanō: ongoing, active, personal.

He’s not pleading frantically.

He’s not wringing His hands.

He’s standing—sure and secure—at the right hand of the Father, advocating for me.

And for you.

That doesn’t diminish the prayers of others.

It just puts them in perspective.

Because before anyone else ever carried me to the Father—Jesus already had.

He Prayed for Glory

Not His own comfort. Not relief from suffering.

“Father, the hour has come; glorify Your Son that the Son may glorify You…” (v. 1)

This wasn’t a self-serving glory.

It was the kind of glory that would come through blood.

Through betrayal.

Through a cross.

Jesus didn’t pray for escape.

He prayed for obedience.

For the Father to be glorified—no matter the cost.

That’s not the kind of prayer we tend to pray in hardship.

But it’s the kind we’re invited into.

He Prayed for Us

“Sanctify them in the truth; Your word is truth.” (v. 17)

“I do not ask that You take them out of the world, but that You keep them from the evil one.” (v. 15)

“That they may be one even as We are one.” (v. 11)

Jesus could have asked for our ease.

But He asked for our holiness.

He asked for our unity.

He asked for our protection—not from discomfort, but from the enemy.

Because He knew the world would hate us.

He knew following Him would be costly.

He knew we’d face suffering and slander and seasons where we feel lost and forgotten.

So He prayed.

Not in general terms.

Not with a vague blessing.

He asked the Father to keep us. To sanctify us. To bind us together in truth.

He Prayed for Me

I wonder what Jesus said, how he prayed—out loud or in His heart—when He looked ahead to my life.

Did He see my story?

Did He think about the moment I would meet Talacey at the altar?

Did He smile as He prayed over the moment we would welcome Sophia into the world?

Did He know how I’d fail? How I’d doubt? How I’d grieve?

Did He picture the moment I’d lay in a hospital bed, wondering if my hand would ever work again?

Did He see the years I’d stumble through sin and grace, sanctification and setbacks?

Did He see the days I’d question His presence?

These words? This post? The people who would read it?

He absolutely did.

And still—He prayed.

That I would be kept.

That I would be changed.

That I would one day see His glory and be with Him where He is.

“Father, I desire that they also, whom You have given Me, may be with Me where I am, to see My glory…” (v. 24)

Not just to believe in Him. But to be with Him.

That’s the heart of Jesus. That’s what He wanted—for me. For you. For all who are His.

The One Who Still Prays

His intercession didn’t end in the upper room.

“He always lives to make intercession for them.” (Hebrews 7:25)

Right now, this very moment—Jesus is praying for you.

Not with desperation, but with certainty.

Not as a beggar, but as your Advocate.

And when you feel weak, unseen, or unworthy—He sees.

He knows.

And He speaks your name before the Father.

⸻

Jesus, it humbles me to think You prayed for me. Not because I earned it, but because You loved me. Thank You for pleading for my holiness, not my comfort—for praying that I’d be kept, not just spared. Keep shaping me, sanctifying me, and holding me until I see Your glory face to face. Amen.