They came to a place named Gethsemane; and He said to His disciples, “Sit here until I have prayed.” And He took with Him Peter and James and John, and began to be very distressed and troubled. And He said to them, “My soul is deeply grieved to the point of death; remain here and keep watch.” And He went a little beyond them, and fell to the ground and began to pray that if it were possible, the hour might pass Him by. And He was saying, “Abba! Father! All things are possible for You; remove this cup from Me; yet not what I will, but what you will.”

—Mark 14:32-36

We can’t talk about mental health without talking about the pain that comes with the things we struggle with mentally. Any time we struggle mentally, pain is likely involved. It doesn’t matter if the pain is coming from something the rude guy at the table next to yours at lunch said or the loss of someone precious or clinical depression, the pain is real, and it can be very intense.

To be honest, I think for the most part, when people ask the question, how a good God could allow pain in the world, I think they’re talking about mental and emotional pain. Yes, physical pain is difficult to endure, but it is generally temporary and therefore feels more finite and manageable. Breaking a bone is painful, but most likely, it will heal over time and you won’t experience that pain anymore. But when the pain is coming from chronic anxiety or the loss of a spouse (or both), it can take a lot longer and be a lot more difficult to work through that pain.

One of the most difficult things about emotional pain is the fact that only you can feel it. By its nature, it can be incredibly isolating, which leads to the fresh pain of feeling alone. 

There is little I can do in a short devotion to help alleviate the pain someone feels because of mental illness or tragedy, but for anyone who has felt or is feeling alone in their mental and emotional pain, I want to offer a bit of hope—not only are you not alone in your pain, but you are, in fact, in the absolute best of company.

I grew up hearing about how Jesus struggled mentally and emotionally in the Garden of Gethsemane. It was one of the facts mentioned every Easter that He was so upset that He began sweating drops of blood (a medical condition called hematohidrosis). It made sense that He would be upset. He was about to die the most painful death ever invented by man. I would be pretty upset too, I told my young self.

Because of this, the Garden of Gethsemane seemed like an obvious choice if we’re talking about mental health in the Bible. What could be more comforting than to know that Jesus has felt a taste (wouldn’t it be heretical to suggest more?) of the same mental and emotional pain we feel?

But I was shocked at what I found—the Garden of Gethsemane wasn’t just a place Jesus went to pray that night because He was upset; it was the first place where He got a taste of what separation from the Father was like, and it was torture.

The language used in Matthew, Mark, and Luke paints a vivid image of what Jesus was going through. In Matthew, the language used to describe Jesus’s pain is used elsewhere to refer to the pain of childbirth. In Mark, His anguish is so severe that He is astonished, surprised, and afraid when He encounters it. In Luke, we see the physical manifestation of His emotional pain when He sweats drops of blood.

Matthew Henry analyzes the language in his commentary, writing, “The words used denote the most entire dejection, amazement, anguish, and horror of mind; the state of one surrounded with sorrows, overwhelmed with miseries, and almost swallowed up with terror and dismay.”

Anyone else see a little bit of their own pain in those words? When Jesus prays in Gethsemane, it’s the first time in all of eternity when He doesn’t experience perfect communion with the Father. There is no way we’ll ever be able to feel exactly what Jesus felt when He first discovered what it was like to be separated from His Father—praise God for His mercy on that one!—but there certainly are pieces and parts I recognize. Being “swallowed up with…dismay.” Being “surrounded with sorrows.” Being “overwhelmed with miseries.” I’ve tasted those before, although He had to drink the whole cup.

When I set out to write this week’s post, I thought there would be hope in learning that Jesus understands our pain. And certainly there is, but there’s more to the story. Gethsemane was just a foretaste. For the job to get done, Jesus would have to face that same pain again on the cross. He would have to choose that level of pain again for the veil in the temple to be torn, allowing us to experience a close relationship with Him. And He did.

We have a God Who fully understood the mental and emotional pain He would have to go through in order to save us and offer us the comforting ministry of the Holy Spirit, and He chose to go through with it anyway. 

I sincerely hope today is not a day of struggle for you, but whether it is or not, I hope you’ll hold fast to this truth. Our God knows the absolute depths of pain. He understands, and He was willing to endure it all for the chance at a relationship with you, a relationship out of which He could minister to you on those dark days. Which means if you know Jesus, even when the pain seems like it will never go away or like it’s going to overwhelm you, you are definitely not alone. You’re in very good company indeed.