New Thoughts (07/14/12-07/22/12)
Not surprisingly, there is a great deal to consider and comment upon concerning this prayer in the garden. Much of what I have garnered as deserving of comment is somewhat tangential to the text, and I shall attempt to keep my observations brief as regards those topics. That said, there is something I see in the setting which is deserving of notice. We are seeing these events unfold on the Mount of Olives. Indeed, that has been a major setting throughout this final week. More, it has been a major setting for centuries preceding this final week.
It is at that point that I find the setting most intriguing. Fausset notes the several names this mount has held: Mount of Lights, Mount of Oil, Mount of Olives. Each of these has a clear reason. Lights, because it was where the first beacon was lit marking certain observances in Jerusalem. Oil and Olives, for obvious reasons. Then, there’s Corruption. It seems so out of place. Indeed, it is difficult to consider a place with such a name as being suitable to the encampment of our Lord. But, why the name? It comes, we are told, of those idols which Solomon had caused to be set up there: Chemosh, Molech, Ashtoreth (1Ki 11:7, 2Ki 23:13). Of Molech, in particular, we have become painfully aware, but the others were like him in their evil.
This mount, then, this Mount Olivet, was a place where Israel stooped to her lowest, pursuing human sacrifices in pursuit of the blessings of demons. And yet, it is a place of highest blessedness. It is the place where God’s presence departed, as Ezekiel tells us, but it is also the place of His returning according to Zechariah. Here, then, it strikes me that Jesus is battling more than the human desire to avoid pain. Here, there is more than the anguished cry of the Son seeking an alternative from His Father. There is also a spiritual warfare that goes unseen and unmentioned. Luke speaks of those angels that came to minister to Jesus, but can it be that there were others come for the purpose of opposing Him? I would not be shocked to find it so. “My soul is grieved to the point of death.” Would it really be so far a stretch to hear in this an oppression beyond that of knowing what is ahead in these words?
One more bit of tangential thought before I come to grips with the passage itself: As I was contemplating those who are spoken of by name here, I got to thinking about James and John. It’s not hard to think upon John. We have so much of his writing by which to come to know him, and he is, after all, the one we are so often sent to for introduction to the Word of God. It’s to his gospel that we tend to point the new believer, or the would-be believer. Get the wonder of Him first, and then you’ll be better fit to appreciate the harder reads. But, James? What do we really know about him? Not much. As I noticed in preparation, his name is rarely mentioned except to note that he and his brother are together in whatever it is that’s happening now. Yet, we don’t get that same sense of him as of his brother. We understand that he was briefly important to the struggling community of faith after Jesus ascended, but primarily we understand this because of the brevity.
The biggest fact we seem to have about James is that he was the first martyr from amongst the Apostles. Stephen, of course, has the honor of being truly the first, but of the eleven who were there to hear that great prayer of Jesus in Jerusalem, it is James who is first to depart this life for one better. One thought that comes to me as I consider this is that it seems such a waste. Jesus had spent so much, invested so much in this man. Three years of intensive training. (On a tangent to my tangent, it occurs to me that these eleven men had the finest seminary education ever given. It may have been a three year program, rather than six or eight, but it was truly immersive, with plenty of lab work. And, of course, it was taught by the Master.) Yet, for all this investment, he is gone from ministry in mere months. Why bother?
God, after all, must surely have known. He knows the end from the beginning. It is not even possible that James would meet such an end except God had ordained it. And isn’t that a bothersome thought? Yet, God is not ashamed to admit His role in those things we measure as calamity and in our wisdom declare great evils. We quite properly refuse to accept God as the author of evil. How could He be, He Who is so fundamentally, unequivocally good? Yet, here is this thing which seems to us evil indeed, and His hand must be in it. What to do? Our first reaction is to try and protect His reputation and deny His involvement. But, again: He does no such thing. He freely speaks of His direct management of calamity as well as blessing. Yet, He remains good. It seems to me that we must adjust our perception of good, seek to more fully grasp His definition of the term.
Somehow, in the purpose of God, it was not only fitting, but necessary that James should depart so soon after graduation. I cannot, at this moment in my development, see why that makes the least bit of sense. But, then, my natural tendency is to view it as something of a business transaction. So much invested, so little return on that investment. I thought God was wise. Well, He is. The greater problem for understanding is that I tend to think I’m so wise. I’m not. I shall not ever come to a place where I can out-think God, where I can second guess Him and arrive at a better plan.
That being said, there is one thing that struck me about these brothers James and John. We cannot but recall the famous incident with their mother. She, it seems, chose to accompany her boys as they undertook to be disciples of Jesus. Just when she joined and why, we are not told. To what degree she adhered to faith, we are not told. The one thing we find out about her is that at some point she decided to approach Jesus on behalf of her sons. Apparently, she believed enough to hold to the popular mythos of Messiah, and to see Him as fulfilling that role. He would be king, and her boys had been His chosen companions. Well, there was Peter, of course, but one could hardly see him in the role of prince, could they? But, James and John? Why not! Good lads and true. Who would not be honored to have them their second? So, she seeks this favor of Jesus, that they might hold the places of honor in His administration, be bookends to His throne.
Well, consider this: James, as I have said, was the first of the Apostles to leave this life. Then, there is John, whom we know to be the last of the Apostles to do so. Even with Paul added to their number, it falls to John to be the last man standing. It strikes me that in some small way these facts serve to mark at least a partial granting of their mother’s wish. They were bookends, bookends to the establishing of the Church. And, is not that Church the earthly mark of the throne of Christ, the chief emblem of His dominion?
Again, I must stress that I can hardly think to claim some deep spiritual revelation here, nor would I think it safe to do so. But, it is at least intriguing to consider. The Sons of Thunder, those two who were for so long counted the closest companions of our Lord, become the first and last guardians of His Church to complete their duties and return home. I have commented before that it seems Jesus was aware of what would befall James, and took steps to prepare a balm for John’s heart before ever it happened. I have seen that in the way He began to pair Peter and John together, particularly in the events of this final week. And, that pairing would serve well as the Church settled into Jerusalem. Indeed, those two would both go forth as chief emissaries of the Risen Christ, enduring much for His name. But, there would always be James there at the start, a cause for wonder, one supposes, as to how this fit in the plan of God. And, at least for me, he remains a cause for wonder to this day.
Suffice it to remind us of this: It is not the length of our service which impresses God. After all, we have little enough control over that. Indeed, I dare say it is not even the depth of our service, or its quality that impresses God. There is nothing in us to make such an impression. There is only His own love, the love of His Son, and the outworking of all He accomplished on our behalf. For our part, we ought to take this to heart as we consider those who might be accounted the greats of faith in our own time.
They are greats of the faith. Yet, they have no more room for boasting in that than did the Apostles, nor would they be inclined to so boast, being men of true faith. We must likewise beware our assessment of such men. They are not sent to be idolized. Honored, yes, but raised to unwanted heights in our esteem? No. Even the greatest heroes of Scripture have no such place in our thinking. David was indeed a man to inspire faith in us. But, his was not necessarily a performance we should emulate. He had his errors. Paul, likewise, though I esteem him greatly, is not a fit man to follow. That falls to Jesus alone. He alone is worthy of worship. All those who have achieved for the kingdom have done so in His power, by His wisdom, and under His direction. To a man, whether we consider Augustine, or Luther, or Calvin, or Wesley, or whomever we might be considering: This is their story. They were but slaves faithful to heed their Master’s orders. And, all that they have done is what they ought to have done. May we be spoken of in like terms at our passing: That we were obedient servants of our God who did as we ought. It is enough and more.
[07/17/12] I just wanted to take very brief notice of an experiment I decided to try this morning. That experiment consisted in reading through these verses with Jesus in the first person instead of the third, let them be His account of the thing. Scripture being God-breathed, is it really such a stretch to hear it thus? Yes, I understand full well that these Gospels were written by real men with real perspectives, and that is of great value. But, I would also say there is quite an impact to hearing these things as coming from the lips of our Lord. At any rate, I found it moving, if not the best of study practices.
However one may feel about that, Matthew 26:38, and its parallel in Mark 14:34 are clearly relayed to us in the first person, and there we find what might be a rather shocking thing coming from Whom it does. “My soul is deeply grieved to the point of death,” reads the NASB. Somehow, I think we get it in our minds that the sainted life, certainly the life of our Messiah, is some idyllic state in which, though we are assured of experiencing trials and tribulations, we are so strengthened by our God that we take no notice of them. Jesus is the Son of God, after all! Surely, the idea of completing His mission and returning to His home should be a joyful matter to think upon. Yet, He expresses a depth of depression and anxiety here such as we can, I think, only pretend to have experienced.
Look, I know from grief. I have had enough of it in my day. Yet, as Scripture says, I have not resisted to the point of bloodshed (Heb 12:4). That verse is quite possibly a reference to this very scene, where Luke describes for us our Savior so tried by temptation that as He prays, He sweats as it were drops of blood. But, look at what precedes. “My soul is encircled and overwhelmed with grief.” That’s how Wuest provides the statement in question. Yet, it’s even more than just being depressed at the thought of what must happen. Surely, if we knew that scourging and crucifixion lay ahead for us, we’d be a tad depressed ourselves! For Jesus, the situation was far worse. He knew that He, the Perfect One, was about to take upon Himself the sins of the world, and the anguish of being thus rendered insufferable to His own Father, His Abba, His self, must have wrenched Him far worse. I don’t, for a minute, think to downplay the physical agonies that lay ahead. Those were horrors unspeakable, as we measure things today. Yet, they were a common enough fate. Consider that two ordinary men shared that particular part of His suffering with Him even that day. But, the shock of separation from the Eternal Father, from Whom He had never been disconnected for even the briefest of moments throughout all eternity? That hurt. Is it really any wonder that He was thoroughly alarmed, terrified even, of what lay ahead?
I wonder, too, if perhaps there was a touch of concern for what would come to pass should He fail to stand up to it all. Understand: He is, in that moment, the Son of God. He is fully God. But, He is also fully man, and that is what we find revealed here more than anything – the absolute Manhood of Jesus. He is beset. He is beset by the dread that would be common to any who faced what He knew was coming. He is beset by dread at the thought of standing up to that period during which Father would turn His back on Him for all that sin which, though not His, He had taken upon Himself. The very touch of sin’s guilt, being foreign to His entire experience, would be cause for anxiousness. And, then, the cost of failure. Should He find, in this weakened human frame, that He was after all unable to face what was coming, what then? The entirety of the human race condemned. God found wanting – and unlike the oft-reached summations of unbelievers through the ages, this time it would be a true assessment. God must cease to be, for He would cease to maintain His essence were Jesus to fail. For Him to fail is the death of all hope for all eternity. And you think you’ve the weight of the world on your shoulders!
So, we hear a depth of earnestness in His prayer that, though it surprises us as coming from Him, yet comforts us. In His anguished desire to find another way to achieve God’s ends, we hear a one we can truly understand. He speaks as we speak, prays as we pray, at least to a point. “Father, if you wouldn’t mind, could we do this differently?” One thinks of Moses at the bush. “You mean me? Surely, there’s another more qualified individual You could send.” One thinks of ourselves as often as not. “You want me to present that Gospel to that man? What do I know of evangelism? I’m really not a people person, Lord. You’d better find somebody else, thanks.” Listen to our Lord and know comfort! We don’t have a high priest whose experience is so far removed from ours that He can find no sympathy for our weaknesses. No! He has been tempted in every fashion that we will ever experience, and in some ways that we will never experience. Yet, He has remained without sin. It is this which gives us the confidence to draw near to His throne, the throne of grace. It is this that gives us hope for mercy from His hand in our own time of need (Heb 4:15-16).
Now, depending on whose account we are following, we arrive differently at the command Jesus gives for His men to pray against temptation. Let us follow the more complete accounts. At first, they are told simply to keep watch. We don’t hear an explicit command to pray, yet is that not part of keeping watch, given the circumstances? Here is our Master gone to pray. Here we are on the Mount of Corruption, with who knows what sort of spiritual battle going on. And, we can see the extent of His concern. If it’s a matter of spiritual warfare, then staring toward the garden gate isn’t going to accomplish a thing. And frankly, with two swords, even noting the arrival of trouble really isn’t going to do a great deal of good, is it? But, to pray! To pray as men of faith, with a reasonably clear conception of the God Who Is: Well, there’s something of value in a tough spot.
Later, perhaps even an hour later, if we are to take His rebuke of Peter literally, He returns and wakes His guards. Then, He makes things a bit more specific. “Keep watching and praying.” The two are now firmly connected. To keep watch is to pray and to pray is to keep watch. And, they are given a specific issue over which to be concerned: That they not enter into temptation. What remains unsaid, and yet fills the scene, is that this is exactly what Jesus is facing. He is battling perhaps the greatest temptation, greater even than those desert experiences that had come to test His readiness for ministry. That is what has brought on the anguish. If there was anything about the upcoming events that He had failed to bring to mind Himself, there are those tormenting spirits all too willing to remind Him. And, they seek to whisper doubts to Him, to convince Him it’s not worth the effort, that He will fail anyway. Nobody could be expected to do what is being asked of Him, and for these? Look! They don’t even have Your back. They can’t even be bothered to stay up in support of You. Why should You suffer in support of them? Yet, even then, He does not seemingly ask for Himself, but for their own security: Pray that you will not be tempted, for if I’m having such trouble, how will you fare?
Then comes that comment that is so familiar to us that we know it from old sitcoms if we don’t know it from the Gospels: “The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.” Now, heard in the immediate context, this would seem to be an assessment of the disciples, as they have slept through their first watch. I rather think we can have little doubt about that particular sense of what He says. Yet, I wonder if He is speaking, as well, of His own situation. The will is there. Clearly, the will is there. “Not what I want, Father, but what You require.” That’s conviction speaking. That’s determination. But, the Son of God, having emptied Himself, faces this in the form of a man, with all the fleshly weakness that is the lot of man. While I find it almost inconceivable to combine the concept of doubt with Messiah, yet I could believe there was just a little bit of doubt there. There was great need for that ministering angel that Luke tells us came to strengthen Him. Might we also know that strengthening in our own many hours of weakness!
The other feature of that repeated prayer of Jesus is the image of the cup. The cup can symbolize many things, whether affliction or salvation. A more generalized symbolism would be that of fate. Except, of course, fate is a concept foreign to true faith. Let us call it instead Providence. What has God decreed for your part? Is it to be affliction or salvation? And who’s to say it is not both? Given the state Jesus is in and the particular request made in His prayer, it is quite clear that affliction is what’s on His mind. One pictures those old passages of prophecy. “You will drink the cup of My wrath to the dregs.” Always, where this imagery is seen, it is the due penalty for a multiplicity of sins. Yet, here it is passed to Jesus, the Sinless One. How can we not marvel at such a thing!
What I found striking, though, is what lies just beneath the scene. Recall that these men have just departed their observance of the Paschal meal. Recall that part of that observance consisted in singing hymns. And, the particular hymns, or psalms, to be sung consisted in those known as the Hallel Psalms. In particular, Psalm 116, from amongst those known as the Hallel, contains these words. “I shall lift the cup of salvation and call upon the name of the Lord” (Ps 116:13). This, too, is the cup that is handed to Jesus. Yet, in this case, it is rather as though by draining the cup of affliction, He is simultaneously filling the cup of salvation. The one is made our heritage because of the other.
This particular task was Jesus’ portion. It was His portion from before the beginning. It was determined before ever creation took form that this would be needful, and it was determined when that need would be fulfilled, and how. Through all eternity, there was never a moment when Jesus was unaware that this moment would be, that this moment is. I am of the mind that God exists outside of time, and that it is at least partly thus that He knows the end from the beginning. But, when one considers this particular, critical moment of history, it is excruciatingly painful to think of it as having an eternal present.
I must needs think upon that point. I am inclined to always point to the relative brevity of that separation from Father that Jesus experienced. But, if being outside of time means that brief moment has an eternity all its own? Then, the brevity as I have thought of it is but illusion, and the reality is that the moment of greatest sacrifice is eternal, even as is His love, His forgiveness. This paints things in a whole new light for me. That cup of affliction was deeper than merely facing the humiliation, the torture, the pains of death. That cup of affliction was deeper than merely facing a momentary lapse in the eternal fellowship of the Godhead. It is, of course, foolish to speak of such things as mere events. They only become so when set against the backdrop of eternity. Like Paul measuring his own sufferings against the scale of eternity, they have significant weight as we measure things, but in the grand scheme? Less than nothing.
Not so, I begin to suspect, for Jesus. Not so. These were not events that lasted hours or days, but events that continue unabated in that realm beyond time. Can this be? Can it be otherwise? It bears considering. I know I have heard it taught that the eternal guilt of our sin required such an eternal sacrifice. It’s something of a mystery exactly we ought to understand this, but the sum of it is that our crimes against God required such price as only He could pay. That He has done so is, I should think, the most humbling thing for us. “Who am I that You should care for me” asked David. I often find myself wondering the same thing. What explanation is there for this, that would make sense to a man? Even knowing the magnificent love of God, and knowing it is His love which moves Him to act this way, we have only our own lesser love to measure this by, and it falls short. Granted, for the wife I love, there is almost nothing I would not do. Yet, I must confess the almost. It is a near approximation of the love God has for His own, but it cannot pretend to be the same. God would do anything for us, because He loves us. He would even send His Son to certain death, to experience (as it seems) throughout eternity the agony and suffering which were rightly our lot.
He has drunk the cup of affliction to the bitter dregs, and I am still of a mind to suppose that in some way this act continues to be felt throughout eternity. From first moment to last, He has drunk that cup. I cannot even pretend to suppose I know how these things play out in a realm outside of time, or even if this is truly the state of heaven. But, it is the way I have thought things to be, that God, Who created time, exists therefore outside of time, just as He exists outside of the creation which He brought into being. If time is part of the created order, then He must be outside of it. He is not confined to that linearity of experience which is ours. He can see the end from the beginning not only because of His perfect wisdom and knowledge, but also because from the moment (were there such a concept for Him) that He sets the thing in motion, the outcome is right there within His view as well. Yet, if this is the case, that the beginning and the ending are there in the eternal moment, is it not also true that all which lay between beginning and end are likewise eternally in that moment?
So, we have Jesus forever knowing the agonizing torments that were rightfully our own to experience. Yet, He knows more, and it is this which ought to lay hold of our attentions and our affections. In draining that cup of affliction, He has made of it the cup of salvation. “I shall lift the cup of salvation and call upon the name of the Lord!” He had sung of this point as they ate earlier. Now, He is in the act of fulfilling that Psalm. For truly, until He Himself lifts that cup of salvation, it remains but a distant hope for all who would call upon the name of the Lord. But, He, by calling upon His Own Name, cup in hand, has truly lifted it up. He, by His own right arm, has done it. It is finished! The cup of affliction, so far as His elect are concerned, is no more. It has been transformed as we are transformed. What once seemed our inevitable conclusion has been changed in an instant, and we no longer face the certainty of eternal punishment, that same eternal agony that I am supposing may be part of our Lord’s experience, I know not how. We know it was our due. It is everything we ever earned from God by our rebellious and sinful ways. But, it no longer lies ahead for us. Rather, we have been given the gift of Life.
We have been reborn, and like that first birth we experience, it is nothing of our own doing. Unlike what certain of the new age philosophies attempt to claim, we did not make arrangements in some metaphysical plain before consenting to become a fetus within some woman’s womb. We did not select those who would take on the role of mother and father to us. And that whole idea just becomes more ridiculous to consider possible as we see what technology and human perversity are making not only possible, but almost commonplace in our own time. Were this the real story, who could we possibly imagine would choose to be the aborted child? Who would have selected the course of being a GMO? No, it becomes absurd, even if it weren’t absurd from the outset.
We did not choose the womb we would exit, nor the genetic material from which we would form. Neither do we really play any significant role in our spiritual rebirth. We have our Father in heaven. We have the Son by Whom Life germinates within us, and the Holy Spirit Who brings that life to fruition. I am sure that this analogy is wholly insufficient, and quite probably disturbing for some to contemplate. But, it is near enough for me at the moment. We are born into this life of salvation, we for whom that cup of affliction has been transformed as we are transformed, made instead a cup of salvation for us as we enter into this Life. This has become our inheritance! “Thou dost prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. Thou hast anointed my head with oil. My cup overflows! Surely, goodness and lovingkindness will follow me all the days of my life. And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever” (Ps 23:5-6). “The Lord is the portion of my inheritance and my cup. Thou dost support my lot. The lines have fallen to me in pleasant places. Indeed, my heritage is beautiful to me” (Ps 16:5-6)!
Thank You, O, my Savior! Thank You that You have transformed my rightful affliction to salvation. Thank You for making my heritage beautiful, for granting me to even have a heritage, rather than a dreadful conclusion. Holy Lord, as I have considered the possibilities that arise for Your experience in eternity, I find my sorrow increased for what I have cost You, what I may cost You even now. The mind boggles, attempting to consider a place where now encompasses the whole of history rather than the moment as we experience things. And again, it but deepens my sorrow, that I have been part of that expansive now of agony that Your garden prayer only hints at. Is it any wonder You were so distressed? No. The wonder is that You remained obedient to the plan and purpose of Father. That, though Your flesh must certainly have known weakness even as ours knows weakness, yet You overcame. You faced temptation such as I shall never know, but You stood firm. You are my Victorious King. Glory be unto You, and may I, by Your will, by Your work in me, find my own flesh overcome by my spirit, by Your Spirit. May I know a day when I no longer contribute to Your sorrow, but only to Your joy.
Lord, I know, too, that communion lies yet some weeks away, and I know that I too often am so caught up in the mechanics of service, or simply to swift to take Your blessings for granted, that I do not view that act with sufficient solemnity. May I, by Your help, Jesus, be mindful of these thoughts as I come to Your table. That Communion we share, the emblems of what You have given, and how it was done, ought ever to bring me back to awareness of the pain I have caused You, and the joy You have given in return. Again I say, thank You for transforming affliction into salvation for me. May You never find cause to regret that choice!
I want to touch upon a few further aspects of this cup image. For, as we understand the cup of the Lord, the Communion cup, to be set for all that He imparts to us, so the cup of demons is emblematic of that which they offer or impart. It would be tempting to think of that cup of affliction as being the cup of demons, where the cup of salvation is the cup of the Lord. There may even be some truth to that, but I remain mindful that the content of that first cup is likewise the product of God’s nature. If there is affliction it is only because it is justly due. Granted, whatever the demons may appear to have on offer, the true offer is affliction. Ever and always, the will and the nature of God trump the intentions of all other beings. But, if the cup stands as emblem of our portion, it stands as emblem for what is made inevitable to us. Our portion is not a matter of our choosing, something we could set aside and denounce should we so desire. It is the outflow of Providence towards us, for good or for ill. It is that which we must experience. I would say that we must accept, except our acceptance or not has little to do with it. We experience much that we would not choose to experience, as did our Savior. But, if it is truly our portion, then ours it shall be.
That Communion cup, though, becomes something more to the elect. It is the pledge of Christ. It is the seal, the mark of genuineness and guarantee, upon that which He has imparted to us by His work. The Holy Spirit is a seal upon the pledge of our final reward, but so, too, is this cup, this Communion. The cup grants to us a visible, visceral reminder not only of what is our heritage, but how it has come to be ours. May we never lose sight of that!
One final point about the cup, which one or the other of my references notes, is that it is also taken as the symbol of the hour of one’s death. To drink that cup to the dregs, after all, is to finish it. If the cup is the symbol of one’s portion and of what we partake, then to drain it is to have exhausted the portion, to have partaken of all that was scheduled for our partaking. There is nothing left. Life is completed, and thus comes death. It is certainly not hard to read that sense of the thing in Jesus’ words. “Let it pass from Me, if possible!” Honestly, as Mark presents for us in his capture of the scene, Jesus is quite aware that anything and everything is possible to God. He is, after all, the One Whose very name insists that He will do what He will do, for He is Who He is. There is none to gainsay Him, none to change His mind. Neither is there any limit to His power. But, as His will is perfect because His wisdom and knowledge are perfect, it is impossible to consider that He would shift His will. If this was the plan He set out, then it is the perfect plan, and though the suffering be great, there really is no alternative, no improvement one could make in order to ease His Son’s experience. No. It must be as it must be, and Jesus knows this well. Would that there were another way, would that it could be done without Me, but Your will, Father. It is to be ardently desired. Yet, even without that desire, Your will is done on earth as in heaven, and I, as best I may, willingly choose to serve Your will. Though I see what is ahead, though I know it is My own death, yet Your will be done.
You know, there was a time when the Church was seemingly filled with those who could speak these words and mean them. The list of martyrs during those first few centuries is a long list. They not only accepted torturous death as inevitable, they embraced it. They felt honored to be entrusted to share in some wise the experience of their Lord. The servant, after all, is no greater than the Lord. It is to be hoped, though, that the disciple is approaching his Master’s skill and strength. Then, of course, there were those who almost gleefully pursued the privilege of dying for their Lord’s sake. Amazing! Yes, and there are places around the earth today where to embrace Christ is almost certainly to embrace the death of the body by unpleasant means. And yet, embrace they do. Amazing! And, what of us? We seem to consider it sufficient torment to abide the decaying society around us, to suffer the lack of support from our government. Oh, but I pray we have the backbone that we ought should it ever fall to us to experience true suffering for Christ! I pray (truth be known) that it not come to that, for I fear I should fail utterly. Yet, I must surely pray that I fail not, that I not succumb to such temptations. Oh! That my willing spirit may yet rise up to take the wheel of this weak flesh!
In the midst of this agony of prayer, Luke tells us an angel came to strengthen Jesus. What follows might well give us pause. For, while it speaks of Jesus praying even more fervently, it seems from most translations that the reason for this is that He is now in agony. Take the NASB, for example. “And being in agony He was praying very fervently.” The Living Bible seemingly makes it even more explicitly a cause and effect thing, saying, “for He was in such agony of spirit.” On second read, though, it would appear that they intend this as explaining why the angel came in the first place.
This becomes something of a distraction. There was such agony upon our Lord that Father felt it necessary to send angels to His aid? God needs help? Or, is it as the more literal translations seem to suggest, that the angel came to help, but instead left Jesus more agonized than before? Neither really makes much sense. But, here’s the thing: We are missing the point of what that agony represents. If I am to take Zhodiates’ word on the matter of what this term agony means, it is not that Jesus is borne down by cringing fear of what is to come. It is more like that vibrating tension of an athlete or a combatant steeled and well ready for what is ahead, and yet held in place. It is strength under control. Think of the runner at the blocks, or the swimmer awaiting the starting gun at pool’s edge.
More apt for this moment might be some of those images authors paint for us of men awaiting the moment of battle. I think, not surprisingly, of those tales I read of the British Navy back towards the founding of our own nation. Ships would know of each other’s presence hours before battle could be joined. They would be watching each other, gauging each other, as they drew nearer together. The gun crews, the marines, every man aboard would be at his station, with nothing but his own skill, speed, and ability to function without thought by which to win through. Having been through similar contests before, each man knows how thinly he holds to life through the hour or so in which battle is joined. Yet, there is no running away. There is only that determination to take down the enemy before he can take you down. There is only the adrenaline rushing through the system, prompting greater speed for the battle ahead.
This is the thing we are seeing in Jesus. Yes, by His own admission there is crushing grief. He knows only too well what His immediate future entails. He knows, if I may revert to my previous supposition, that particular anguish full well, for it has been His for eternity, and shall remain so. But, this is the physical moment, and He is here in physical body. He is in linear time, as we are, and must experience that suffering in full for the duration. But, He is not cast down, even so. He is strengthened for God has seen to it. The angel was sent, and whatever shortcomings the flesh may have had for our Lord, He has been renewed. He is ready. The gates of hell have been opened upon Him, but they cannot prevail.
There is a portion from the Psalms that shows up in parallel to this passage which I can easily imagine running through our Lord’s mind as He prayed here. Recall, after all, that the brief bits of prayer we have recorded are but the part that Peter, James and John perhaps overheard before they passed out. By appearances, there were potentially hours of prayer that went unheard. So, allow me to imagine my Jesus praying those same words by which David encouraged himself. “Why this despair, my soul? Why so disturbed? Hope in God, for I shall praise Him again for the help of His presence. My God! My soul is in despair. So, I shall remember You here along the Jordan, on the peaks of Hermon, on Mount Mizar” (Ps 42:5-6).
Oh! But, our God is a God Who knows us well. Oh! But, we have a High Priest who knows our trials and our weaknesses, having faced them all Himself. Oh! But, how He can encourage us when our own souls are in despair. Things are bleak. There would seem to be no hope. None, whatsoever. The country’s going down the tubes. Kids today seem to be totally out of control, and the media just serves to remove what few controls remain. Wars and famines and freak weather is everywhere one turns. The economy’s tanking the world ‘round. There is nothing good anymore (not that there ever really was). Why, Lord? Why let it continue? Must we really see the full measure of their sins accumulate? Must we really see the full measure of our own sins accumulating? Where is hope? My God! I shall praise Him, for He is my help. His presence is my strength, and I shall indeed remember Him by river and mountain. My eyes shall see Him in the land of the living. All is most certainly not lost, for come what may, my God remains.
And, in just that strength, just such an insistent reminder to the soul of its true position, our Jesus, though sweat poured from Him in such degree it seemed as if His very lifeblood were pouring from Him, won. As the temptations in the desert inaugurated His ministry, now this final temptation in the garden marks its close. As He was victorious over those first temptations, so now, He is victorious over the temptation to reject God’s plan at the end, when the personal cost became so high. The Second Adam has won! He has stood firm where the first Adam fell and took us with him. Our Second Adam, the Last Adam, has countered every wile of the enemy, battled all those demons released from his realm, and driven them back through their own gates and beyond. He shall reign in victory forevermore. Why so downcast oh, my soul? Put your trust in God, for the battle is His alone, and He has already won it! Pray, then, that like your Lord, like your Teacher, you will not succumb to the temptations that assault you day by day. Put your trust in God, and let Spirit strengthen flesh. Stand and stand some more, until the day of His coming. My flesh shall see God. I shall praise Him again from the land of the living. It is enough.
Considering this great effort of prayer on the part of Jesus, and considering that even He, the Son of God, found it so necessary, surely I should be stirred to greater efforts of prayer. Here, after all, is my Teacher, my Master, and He, seeking victory over temptation, finds it in prayer. Yet, it seems I more often prefer my temptations. It seems that as often as not even if I do pray regarding these things, it is with part of the mind considering when next I might do the thing I ought not, the thing I hate. And far too often, I simply don’t pray at all. I know and yet I do, and for me, that is most assuredly a sin. The greater sin, or at least the greater foolishness, lies in failing to take hold of what my God has done on my behalf that I might be free of this.
Just last week, we heard about our state as believers, not impossible not to sin. I do have a choice in the matter, by the grace of God. I could actually do as I see my Lord doing, and actually battle in prayer, rather than tossing off a quick request that I’m pretty sure won’t be heard and answered in time anyway. Is it any wonder that such prayers are ineffectual? These are not the fervent prayer of faith, but the obligatory nod of diffidence. Yet, even such poor prayers as these may be answered in ways unexpected. God, after all, knows the heart. He hears the heart. Fancy words, or an abundance thereof, do not impress. It is the sincere core, the real desire and motivation, that counts. It is the Spirit praying within us, correcting our foolishness, disregarding our misconceptions, and speaking on our behalf those things that we would pray if we knew how to pray aright.
But, just look at this! Our Lord, our Jesus, was able to take strength in prayer, such strength as enabled Him to accept that which the Father had determined for Him. He knew. He knew what was ahead, and He knew that being Son of God wasn’t going to make it any less horrific to experience. He had seen pain and suffering. He had known pain and suffering. And this was worse than what He had seen and known. Yet, in prayer, in pursuit of God’s will by God’s ways, He found Himself strengthened to face the necessary flow of events that terminated in the cross.
This is written for our benefit, don’t you know. Seeing what prayer did for Him, we have every encouragement to pursue that same prayerful lifestyle ourselves. We have seen what prayer can do. We have also come to understand, hopefully, what prayer most assuredly does not do. Prayer does not manipulate the will of God. That is there in every prayerful word we have from our Savior and Teacher. “Thy will be done on earth as in heaven.” “Nevertheless, not My preference but Your will be done.” Likewise, those other prayers and conversations with God that we are privy to in Scripture are not incantations to bind God to one man’s purposes. They are not the wheedling of an inferior being seeking to sway the decisions of the great. Rather, they are the confirmation of what our great God has already purposed. They are a reflection upon His true nature and its outworking in the world around us. If there is anything we might count as changed by prayer it is surely ourselves. God does not change. He has no need to do so, for He is faithful.
That being the case, there is still the clear instruction of Scripture guiding us to pray. Prayer is a tool set in our hands by a gracious God by which we do not seek to have our own way, but rather seek to be a more active and vital part of His way. The road He sets for us is not always an easy one. I suppose it should be said that it is never an easy one, although sometimes it may appear easier than that which He has set for our compatriot. However easy the road may seem at the moment, the truth remains that we require greater strength than is found in our poor flesh if we are to reach journey’s end. We need every advantage that is our birthright in this new life. We need every possible aid that our King may send. We need, more than anything, to conquer ourselves, to subdue our own rebellious flesh, and even this is beyond our meager capacities.
Praise God that He has granted us this marvelous hand in His plan. Praise God that He does not treat us as puppets, or as machines. He has incorporated us in His work, given us our tasks by which to be part of all that He is doing. Like any good father, He allows us to do what would be far easier and far more efficient for Him to do Himself. It is not that He needs us, it is that He chooses us. It is not that the job can’t be done without us, it is that we will not mature without doing the job. So, He sets the job before us, places all the tools in our hands, and issues step by step instructions so that we can do as He has assigned. Oh! The joy of it! Oh, the happiness of discovering we have been useful to our Daddy! Perhaps, as we mature a bit, we realize that we have not been so useful as we first thought. Yet, there remains the joy. He has chosen to make us part of His world. He has allowed us to share a part of His world with Him, to see things just a bit more clearly from His perspective. We are growing and we know it. And, we know the honor He does us by helping us to grow.
So, let us take strength from this model set before us. As our Jesus takes strength to accept what Father has determined, so may we do. We have this incredible benefit of knowing how it turned out for our Lord. Yes, He suffered. More than His tormentors could know. Yes, He died at the hands of those He could have crushed without so much as breaking a sweat. But, as is written, for the joy set before Him, He endured the cross and despised the shame, and to what end? He has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God (Heb 12:2)! We may not take to such a throne. Certainly, we shall not hold His authority as our own. Yet, it strikes me that He has spoken of bringing us up on His throne for a visit at least. And, we are already operating under His delegated authority. We are already His representatives in this foreign land. But, the key for me at present is this: We are going to be where He Is. Whatever this life may throw at me, and lately it seems rather a lot, the end of it shall assuredly be greater than all the woes it may contain. “For momentary, light affliction is producing for us an eternal weight of glory far beyond all comparison” (2Co 4:17). Never has any investment had so great a PE ratio, nor ever shall! Whatever may befall us in this life, even were it to come to death upon a cross or tortures worse yet, we are advised to perceive these things as Paul did, as momentary, light affliction. We may as well view the entirety of our earthly life as one momentary, light affliction, from which we emerge into an eternity of glory. What can it matter, except that we seek to give our best to the task of representing the God Who Is?
As I begin to turn my attention from Jesus to those who were with Him, those nearer my own ability, I want to start with that comment Jesus makes upon returning to Peter, James and John. And, I want to recall that these are His most trusted companions, the ones who have witnessed things about Him that no other has. They have been there to see Him raise the dead. They have been there to see Him in His glory, Moses and Elijah standing there conversing with Him. They have been granted the greater insights, “You are the Son of God!” They have pursued status and standing with this Jesus, and they have achieved it in spite of themselves. The have the status. They are the leaders, the inner circle. But, status alone is not enough. Here they are at the critical hour, entrusted with the greater responsibility, and status does not serve. Positions and titles are insufficient to carry responsibility. The weight is too much. The importance is too great.
There is a lesson here, and I dare say a very personal one. I have become a man of responsibilities, all unwilling. I become a husband and lo! Responsibilities come unbidden. I become a father and hark! Here come more responsibilities, and there is no hiding from them. Further, they only become greater as the years pass. One begins to understand one’s parents a bit better, to appreciate them a bit more. And then, parents are passing, and here are responsibilities added atop all that is already yours to bear. Today, I have responsibilities to bear in every one of these regards, as my family and I go to honor the memory of my step-mother, my father’s wife, my daughter’s grandmother, my wife’s dear friend. And, I have responsibilities to each one. I have responsibilities that in some aspects, at least, ought properly to belong to another. But, those who ought to bear the load, in my mind, are not here to bear it. And, I, admittedly, have been feeling utterly crushed by responsibilities of late. Darn it, I’m being forced to grow up, and I’m far to old to have to be dealing with that!
If you have not experienced this burden, if you have not felt the anxious concerns over conflicting responsibilities, if you have not known the anguish of seeing those in your charge facing pains and sorrows you are completely powerless to prevent, if you have not felt the particular anguish of soul as your child seems to have departed the Way: Well, all I can say is give thanks! Give thanks, but watch carefully! Your turn is coming, and you’ll want to be prepared. You’ll want to give it your best. You’ll want to discover in yourself the power to do it all. And, I tell you outright, you’ll not discover that. You’ll discover instead just how powerless you are in the face of what folks call circumstance. You’ll discover, if you’re wise, a stronger urge towards prayer, a more complete dependence on the God Who Is, and Who loves you. He has indwelt us for a purpose, for His purpose. But, He has also indwelt us for our own benefit. We have in Him this marvelous well-spring of strength. We have in Him the One Who bears our burdens if we are but wise enough to stop trying to snatch them from Him. No, no, Lord. I can carry this. I can do it. And, like Peter, James and John, we must each discover that we can’t. We, too, will be found sleeping when we ought to be praying. We, too, will find that the flesh is incapable of what the spirit would do. We, too, are in great need of the Holy Spirit within, strengthening, encouraging, advising, even demanding, that we keep our eyes on heaven, and on heaven’s King.
I should like to think, as well, upon that last bit that Jesus says to the three of them. Still sleeping? Still taking your rest, are we? The purpose of rest, of course, is to regain strength. It is a break from one’s labors. Sadly, we are much inclined to consider our rest as the purpose of our existence rather than the power generator for those things in life that matter. We have become experts at resting, but have in turn lost the mindset and capacity for working as we ought. This is true of our society as a whole, certainly. The path to success in this country now lies most reliably along lines of entertainment. A computer may be able to resolve the human genome in hours, and that’s all well and good. But, can it give me an edge playing Halo? That’s the real question. Can I get my videos and my music on that thing?
The same thing is true in much of the Church, though. We are sleeping. We are resting. We tell ourselves we are regathering our strength for the challenges ahead, that we are worn down from all that we have been doing. But, most of what we’ve been doing hasn’t been our doing. It’s been resting on the accomplishments of those who went before. We have become satisfied with venerating the giants of our faith, who are almost to a man a thing of the distant past. We don’t really expect to find heroes of the faith in our own time. It certainly wouldn’t occur to us that perhaps that’s our job. I’m not suggesting we have need of any further ego trips, but a bit of gumption would be good. Comes a time when we need to hear, as these men heard, “Enough! Get up. It’s time.”
Now, I have to say that those verses are subject to interpretation. While the NASB, and other translations of similar mindset pose this matter of sleeping as a question. “Are you still sleeping? Still resting?” Others, however, present it in a fashion that leaves Jesus almost sounding resigned to their weakness. “Yes, you may as well sleep on. Go ahead. Catch up on your rest.” But, then comes that, “Enough!” And it reads almost like a snap from sarcasm to command. It’s like Jesus has decided to be the drill sergeant over His little troop of followers. Get up now! Trumpet’s blown. Grab those swords, you two, and let’s be at it.
But, here’s the thing. If I am following this correctly, that comment of “enough” has a whole different meaning from what we are inclined to hear. It’s more like the tone of mercy than of belligerent command. It should come across more like this. “No more need be said about this, nor shall I speak of the incident again.” They know. They know what was asked, and they know they have blown it. Again. They are sufficiently chagrined, but as Luke points out, it’s not like they were being lazy. They were just overwhelmed with the sorrows of the day. Dreams seemed to be crushed from them. The Messiah, near as they could figure, had pretty much thrown in the towel, given up. Here’s their great military hero, and He’s decided to do some suicide mission. Where does this leave them, apart from looking like idiots to folks back home? Could they really have done nothing but waste their lives these last three years? Was He really just another charlatan? At core, they knew better, but still: The stuff that had been laid on them today was enough to wear any man down, and worn down they were. Jesus, with that one word, “Enough,” speaks of His own understanding. I know. Like I said, the spirit is willing enough, but the flesh fails us every time. I shall say no more about it, but we really must be up and about, for the hour is come. That’s all.
This, I think I would hold as my closing thought on this powerful scene. God does not require us to be superheroes. He does not demand superhuman efforts from us that we might make other men marvel. No. He seeks no more than ordinary people walking humbly before Him – with Him. He seeks only a people that love His ways and try as best they might to emulate those ways. If there are to be heroes of the faith, it will be of God’s making and of God’s doing. If there were giants in our past, it is because they made themselves small and God big. It is certainly not because they set out to be heroic. They did as they felt they must. They did because it had become impossible that they would not do. Yes, they were heroic. The thought of Martin Luther making his stand against a church powerful enough to shake kings; the thought of John Calvin, and those others who insisted on the word of God over the word of man; the thought of brave men of God who came to this nation in search of a place to practice their faith in freedom, who gave themselves to spreading the Gospel to the local tribes, even at great risk to life and limb: These are men worth marveling at, but only because they reveal the God in Whose name they labored. They are great precisely because they thought nothing of themselves and only of Him.
Listen: You can poke into the lives of any of these heroes of the faith and discover things to disagree with, human weaknesses, even cruel streaks. You can find evidence of societal prejudices common to their times in their own thought and practice. Yet, God is no more ashamed to own them as His than He is to accept David as a man after His own heart. David was hardly perfect. Far from it. Abraham? Credited by God Himself as the father of all who are His? Some would be embarrassed to note his like in their family tree. Really! Here’s a guy that pretty much sold his wife to another man to save his skin, the prototypical Henny Youngman. “Take my wife, please!” And not once. Twice! Now, there’s your model for trusting God. You sent me here, but that guy looks dangerous, and he’d probably kill me to get at my beautiful wife. Better I should just let him take her and look the other way. Wow.
No, God is not looking for superheroes, only those He can render heroic by His own hand. He is, as Jesus noted here, able to do whatever He chooses. Nothing is impossible to Him. Even turning our much damaged and sin-marred lives to His good purpose. Even using the error-prone assistance of a man like me to achieve His good ends. It is possible. It takes only a willingness to be His, a desire to serve, and even this, I know comes by His power and grace.
May we find ourselves as faithful as the apostles proved to be. May we never discover in our failings an excuse to walk away. Oh, I know. Even these men, faced with the apparent hopelessness of a dead Messiah, went back to what they knew. I guess it’s over. May as well go fishing. Gotta make a living somehow. But, they didn’t give up. They couldn’t give up. The Spirit Who would come upon them with power a few weeks hence was already present within. God was already willing and working, and they, when they saw Hope arise, were willing to be working, too. They could not do otherwise. If ever you have felt the prompting of God, even in a small thing, you perhaps understand that. It’s not the moving of pawns on a chess board. It’s that one knows purpose, one is energized to that purpose, and the call of our Lord, our Master, not so much compels us as impels us. I could sum it up in the words of Amos. “The Lord God has spoken! Who can but prophesy” (Am 3:8)? The Lord has commanded, and who can but seek to do His bidding? Oh, that I may be willing to whatever He may call me to. Oh! That I may be listening for that call, that I might be, like Samuel, one who says, “Here am I, Lord.” I live to do Your will. And by Your will, I shall do as You seek to have done.
