9 Days until Easter

9 Days until Easter

Their feet had been washed by the hands of Jesus and their faces probably freshly washed by their own tears.  The disciples left the Upper Room by Jesus’s side and walked the moonlit path, past the Gihon Spring and through the Kidron Valley.  The Mount of Olives on their right and the wall of the temple on their left, but ahead was the destination, the Garden of Gethsemane.

I can only imagine how beautiful the olive groves where at night, lit by the light of the Milky Way and moon.   I’m sure that the scent of the clustered buds on the trees filled the valley and moved with the wind as it swirled down the slopes.  The varied colors of wood twisted and tangled, formed the rows of trunks and branches.  The scattered rocks sat at the base of the trunks, reflecting the splendid light.  The roots formed crowns of gnarled wood adorned with knots like jewels that spread out below their feet.   Although from the Mountain they would have seen the cool colored green canopy, walking beneath the trees would have revealed the silver underside of the olive leaves.  The branches provided a resting place for the birds that were nestled for the night.  I do wonder if the creatures of the garden knew.  The King was in their presence.  Their Creator’s steps were heavy.  Could they sense what was about to happen?

“Then Jesus went with them to a place called Gethsemane, and he said to his disciples, “Sit here, while I go over there and pray.”  And taking with him Peter and the two sons of Zebedee, he began to be sorrowful and troubled.  Then He said to them, “My soul is very sorrowful, even to death; remain here, and watch with me.” -Matthew 26:36-38

At some point along the path, Judas took a different path and Jesus pulled Peter, James and John from the group and went farther into the orchard to pray.  He was distressed.  He was troubled.  He was sorrowful.  He was broken.  Jesus was so completely overwhelmed by a tremendous, excruciating grief.  This grief was so powerful, so heavy, and so immense that He felt as though it could kill Him.  And in this moment of complete and utter brokenness He asks His closest brothers to keep watch with Him.

“And going a little farther He fell on His face and prayed, saying, “My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as You will.”  And He came to the disciples and found them sleeping.  And He said to Peter, “So, could you not watch with me one hour?  Watch and pray that you may not enter into temptation.  The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.” -Matthew 26:39-41

This was not a “let’s bow our heads” type of prayer.  This was not even an “on my knees” type of prayer.  This was a “fall face-first to the ground” type of prayer.  I believe it was His darkest moment on earth.  It was a weight greater than anything He had ever faced.  With all His human senses, He was bearing a bigger-than-human burden.  Pure, unimaginable angst.  The reality of drinking this cup seemed more than He could take.  The pain and anguish piercing His soul was greater than any physical pain He’d endure. His flesh pleaded for an escape.  His humanity hoped there was an other way.  And while Jesus is praying His most soul wrenching prayer of His life, what were the disciples doing?  Sleeping.  Weak in their flesh.  Napping away under the Olive trees.  It wouldn’t be the last time during the course of night that they would fall asleep either.  No, they’d continue to drift off in slumber for the remainder of His prayer.  It really goes to show just how weak we really are.  

    “My Father, if this cannot pass unless I drink it, Your will be done.” -Matthew 26:42

He couldn’t pass the cup of crucifixion on to anyone else.  He was the spotless Lamb.  No one else could be a perfect sacrifice.  And in order for my soul to be spared, He would have to drink it Himself.  His face, tear-soaked flesh to gravel with blood and sweat dripping.  His hands, clinging to the roots with white knuckles.  His feet, pushing into the earth in torment.  That’s how He prayed for me.  Deep in the garden, face first, in utter exhaustion, in absolute despair, He lifted me up in prayer.  That’s right.  He prayed for Himself, then He prayed for His disciples and then He prayed for His followers. He thought of me.  He anguished over me.  In His darkest hour, as His soul felt deeply the crushing weight of the war on sin, He lifted my name to His Father.  There in the garden, hours from crucifixion, He prayed for me.  He prayed for you.

“I do not pray for these (disciples) only, but also for those who will believe in Me through their word, that they may all be one, just as You, Father, are in me, and I in you, that they also may be in us, so that the world may believe that You have sent Me.  The glory that you have given me I have given to them, that they may become perfectly one, so that the world may know that you sent Me and loved them even as You love Me.  Father, I desire that they also, whom You have given me, may be with Me where I am, to see my glory that You have given me because You loved me before the foundation of the world.  O righteous Father, even though the world does not know You, I know You, and these know that You have sent me.  I made known to them Your name, and I will continue to make it known, that the love with which You have loved me may be in them and I in them.” -John 17:20-26

When we think of the sacrifice Christ paid for our sins, we normally think of the cross.  But I believe it was in the garden where He endured His greatest agony.  Luke’s account of Jesus’s prayer describes His sweat like blood.  Of course, we know Luke was a physician which could explain why that detail stood out to him as he wrote about the overwhelming sorrow and excruciating agony that brewed within Jesus that caused such physical stress.  When I seek the depths of my heart, I vividly see what my betrayals have cost Christ.  To get real about the toils and struggles and torment that smothered Him as He gasped for air among the olive trees, I have to measure my level of responsibility that caused Him that most exceeding sorrow and suffering.  It upsets me that He did it alone.  I hate it.  Do I wish that I could walk the moonlit path and pry His fingers from the roots and hold His hand?  I do.  Do I wish that I could take a damp cloth and wipe the tears and sweat that had turned to blood?  With my whole heart, I do.

I don’t think it’s by chance that when Christ created man, He placed him in a garden.  And when His spotless soul cried out to God the Father and accepted the cup of crucifixion as a punishment for the sins of man, He was in a garden.  His heart was pure.  He had never known sin.  His victory over death meant He had to take on human wickedness, the misery of the sins of all mankind.  I believe the greatest anguish that any man ever felt in the history of the world was felt that night in an olive orchard by my Creator, my Savior, and my Redeemer, Jesus Christ.  And even though He asked if there was another way, face first in the ground, He submitted to the will of His Abba Father. And in that moment, God sent down an angel that covered Him in peace.  His torment left Him.  His sorrow dissolved.  His struggles were trampled.  The war was won.  There in Gethsemane, He chose willingly to drink the cup on Golgotha.

Why did He do it? Because He loves us.  He prefers us.  The Creator of the universe doesn’t need us, which makes it all the more incredible that He prefers us.  I’ll end with the most powerful quote I’ve ever read about my Savior’s time in Gethsemane.

“For it was in the garden that He made His decision.  He would rather go to hell for you than go to heaven without you.”  -Max Lucado

Dear Lord, this reflection of scripture has absolutely moved me.  I want to commit to never love myself or my desires or my own will more than I love serving and submitting to Your will.  Christ brought glory to God and hope for humanity by drinking the cup He’d been given.  I give my life to Your calling.  Help me to always seek to complete the entirety of my purpose in You.  All my love.