Jesus Needed "Trusted" Friends and So Do We

I Withdrew. They Stayed.

My world crashed down on January 30, 2024. A traumatic experience left me emotionally paralyzed, sending shockwaves through every corner of my life. And my first, most ancient instinct kicked in: withdrawal.

I became a ghost in my own life. The phone was a foreign object, text messages went unanswered, and my social media lay dormant. I retreated into the deepest, darkest cave I could find—a place where the absence of light and sound matched the crushing weight of my anxiety, anguish, and panic. I wanted only the darkness, because in the darkness, I didn't have to be seen, and I didn't have to face the world. I just needed to ruminate. Alone.

Why? Because a dark whisper told me a terrible lie: no one cares enough to truly know. If they reached out, was it genuine concern, or just morbid curiosity?

For months, I was swallowed whole by this deep, consuming depression. Then, the whispers of my trauma began to leak out. The calls started, the texts poured in. I ignored them all.

When I finally took the terrifying step of reaching out, the response was a brutal test. Some of those I reached for saw not my pain, but an opportunity for gossip and cruel humor. They confirmed my darkest fear.

But then, the few.

A small, powerful circle of friends reached through the gloom, not to judge, but to lift me up. They didn't ask me to run; they let me limp. They wrapped an arm around my waist, shouldered my own arm, and walked slowly with me. When the weight I carried became too much and I stumbled, they didn't let me hit the ground. They were present. They were active. They stayed. Their presence, born of love deeper than curiosity, was the powerful medicine that allowed me to begin to heal.

I learned the hard way that seeking support is essential.

The Humanity in His Divinity

Unlike me, the Son of God understood this truth before the storm. Jesus knew the abyss that lay before Him in the Garden of Gethsemane, and He refused to face it alone.

We often picture the Savior bowed under the terrifying weight of destiny—sweating blood, whispering agonizing prayers into the lonely night. But tucked inside that sacred scene is the profound truth of His humanity: Even Jesus sought a support system.

He called for Peter, James, and John. He didn't need them to change the outcome; He needed them to be present in the pain.

“My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death. Stay here and keep watch with me.”

— Matthew 26:38 (NIV)

In those simple words, Jesus—fully God, yet fully human—reveals something incredibly tender: the non-negotiable need for companionship in moments of deep anguish.

If the strongest man who ever lived valued support, what are we doing trying to carry the weight alone?

When the Strong Need Strength

We live in a culture that glorifies independence, but isolation was never God’s design. Jesus, the very Son of God, modeled vulnerability. He didn’t hide His distress behind a mask of perfection. He didn’t tell His disciples, “I’m fine.”

He invited them into His sorrow.

If the One who carried the sins of the world saw value in emotional support, how much more should we? Asking for help isn’t weakness—it’s wisdom. It’s a reflection of divine humility.

“Dear friend, I pray that you may enjoy good health and that all may go well with you, even as your soul is getting along well.” — 3 John 1:2 (NIV)

This verse reminds us that emotional and spiritual wellness are connected. Jesus cared for the soul, and in Gethsemane, He demonstrated what soulful care looks like—honesty, prayer, and connection.

The Prayer That Changed Everything

Jesus prayed three times in that garden. Each time, His posture shifted—not because His pain vanished, but because surrender was settling in. His support system didn’t have the strength to stay awake, yet their presence still mattered.

Sometimes, the people around us won’t fully understand the depth of our battle. They may fall asleep, metaphorically or literally, at the moments we wish they’d be most awake. But their willingness to show up—imperfectly, humanly—still matters.

Because God uses presence, not perfection, to bring comfort.

Key Takeaway:

Seeking support is not weakness; it’s wisdom.

Even the Savior leaned into community. You were never meant to carry the weight of your sorrow, anxiety, or grief alone. There is healing in letting someone “keep watch” with you.

Call to Action:

This week, take one brave step. Share your current struggle with at least one trusted friend or mentor. Let them sit with you, pray with you, or simply be there.

And when you do, remember—you’re walking in the footsteps of Jesus in the Garden.

Because even the strongest need support. And even the Savior sought it.

(For those who may be interested in my full story, here is a link to my eBook: “Anointed and Anxious; Discipled and Depressed” )