Intercession: The Agony and the Glory

Suffering to glory

Reflection: The Agony and the Glory of Intercession

People often tell me that all believers must intercede and are intercessors, but I question whether this reveals the full sacred weight of standing in the gap.

After all, to intercede is not the same as our everyday prayer; it comes at a cost. Total surrender is only the beginning. It demands the ability to push through barriers that take us from one realm to another. It is about entering the unknown, a passage we must endure to achieve a breakthrough. 

When I tried to describe my experience of intercession, the only words that came were these: It is like being dragged across barbed wire, every spike tearing through flesh, every pull forward a fresh wound. As I spoke these words, a vision unfolded: Jesus, battered and bleeding, carrying the cross up Golgotha’s hill. 

Ask yourself: How could anyone intercede without breaking sweat, without tears, without weakness, when Jesus Himself wept so intensely His sweat became like blood (Luke 22:44)? How could we feel no strain when He grew so weak on the cross that He surrendered His spirit to the Father (Luke 23:46)? Are intercessors today so strong they need not suffer? 

The Roman whip, studded with bone, lashed His back with every step. I’d always described my experience as being dragged across barbed wire, but only now did I see the connection: Jesus, battered by spikes, was walking the very path I’d glimpsed in prayer. 

At that moment, I understood. To truly intercede is not to recite prayers but to align with Christ’s suffering (Philippians 3:10). Every agonising breath He took was intercession. Every drop of blood was a prayer. Yet many of us see little fruit in intercession because we stop short of entering the spiritual realm. Some, like me, begin but retreat, overwhelmed by the cost. 

To intercede is to step into unseen battlefields where the air thrums with warfare. You advance blindly, knowing only that you must press on. Then, the shift. Earth falls away. The cloud of His presence envelops you, and for a moment, you are in a prostrate position outside time, raw and surrendered before the throne. Only then do you know if a breakthrough has come because you’ve fought with all your strength, and now, you are empty. 

But here is my confession: I have been afraid to go back. 

The memory of that pain—my soul stripped bare—has made me build walls. “Never again,” I whispered. “The cost is too great.” Yet in the quiet, another voice speaks: “Look at My Son.” 

Jesus chose the cross. He embraced agony not because it was easy but because love demanded it (Hebrews 12:2). Now, He lives forever to intercede for us (Hebrews 7:25). He did not turn away—so how can I? 

From Fear to Fire

Intercession’s sacred paradox is that the very thing that terrifies you is what transforms you. 

Yes, it costs everything. Yes, it leaves you trembling and weak. But here, in brutal surrender, you discover a mystery: suffering is not the end. Just as the cross birthed resurrection, intercession births miracles. The wounds you bear in prayer become vessels for His glory (2 Corinthians 12:9). 

I think of Paul, who said, “I fill up in my flesh what is still lacking regarding Christ’s afflictions” (Colossians 1:24). Not because Christ’s sacrifice was insufficient, but because He invites us into the fellowship of His sufferings (Philippians 3:10). In sharing Christ suffering is to be remade. 

So now, I pray with trembling and fire: “Lord, break down my walls. Let fear be consumed by Your glory. If You call me into the depths, meet me there, for You are no stranger to pain. You are the God who burns yet does not destroy, who wounds only to heal.” 

And this is the miracle: The barbed wire that tore my flesh becomes the path into His presence. The pain remains, but now it has a purpose.

Fear lingers, but now a greater force drowns it—love that will not let me go (Romans 8:38-39). 

 The Surrendered Intercessor 

I do not know if I will ever stop trembling when I am called again to intercede. But I am learning this: 

Intercession is not about my strength but His strength in me (2 Corinthians 12:9-10). 

This battle is not mine; it is His (2 Chronicles 20:15). And when I surrender, when I let the barbed wire shred me anew, I find something astonishing on the other side: joy. Not happiness, not relief, but the fierce, unshakable joy of a soul that has touched eternity (Hebrews 12:2). 

“For the joy set before Him, He endured the cross.” Now, that same joy beckons me, not despite the cost but because of it. 

So, I say yes. Again. And again. 

As I’ve silently wondered if others share this experience, my vision now clarifies: Jesus walked this path first. Every step He took deepened His intercession on our behalf. He did not stop. He broke all the way through. And when He knew the work was complete, He proclaimed: “It is finished.” (John 19:30). 

 Written by Angela Doreen- June 2025 #ChristianBlog #FaithOverFear #BibleVerse #JesusSaves #GodIsGood #PrayerWorks #GraceUponGrace #WalkInFaith #ChristianLiving #WordOfGod #Catholic #Protestant #OrthodoxChristian #Pentecostal #Baptist #PriemerChristianRadio #PriemerGospel          

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