PASSAGE FOR THE DAY:
32 They went to a place called Gethsemane, and Jesus said to his disciples, “Sit here while I pray.” 33 He took Peter, James and John along with him, and he began to be deeply distressed and troubled. 34 “My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death,” he said to them. “Stay here and keep watch.”
35 Going a little farther, he fell to the ground and prayed that if possible the hour might pass from him. 36 “Abba, Father,” he said, “everything is possible for you. Take this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what you will.”
37 Then he returned to his disciples and found them sleeping. “Simon,” he said to Peter, “are you asleep? Couldn’t you keep watch for one hour? 38 Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.”
39 Once more he went away and prayed the same thing. (Mark 14:32-39, NIV)
REFLECTIONS:
Up to this point in Jesus' ministry, he knew clearly that he was going to the cross. But this is the first sign that he was nervous or scared or maybe not fully ready to go to the cross. He spoke of it, he understood what it would involve, yet before this point there is no indication that he was in any way reluctant to go. He had said, "I always do what pleases my Father" (John 8:29). Even though it involved some degree of hardship or difficulty for him, he wanted to do it. In the same way, a young man is challenged to do a dangerous or arduous task, and delights to do it, though it costs him greatly. So Jesus went toward the cross with a confident sense that he was walking in the Father's will. And though it would be hard and dangerous and difficult, even deadly, he was willing to do it.
But now, it seems, something has changed. Suddenly, and it seems to be for the very first time, Jesus does not want to do what the Father wants him to do. There is a sense of distance, of deviation. This is why there came upon his spirit this deep sense of struggle, distress. The disciples sense this, and he does not try to hide it from them. He says to them, "My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death" (verse 34). Very few of us have ever stood at the place where we were so troubled, so hurting within, so deeply distressed that we feared it might take our life. But Jesus was. There was this unwillingness to do the Father's will, even though he knew it was inevitable. He pours out his heart to God: "Abba, Father—Daddy—everything is possible for you. Take this cup from me." There are some who think that the cup refers to the agony of Gethsemane itself. But I do not think so, because at the end of this account, when Jesus is arrested by the soldiers who come with Judas, Peter strikes a sword in his defense. But Jesus says, "Put up your sword, Peter; shall I not drink the cup which the Father has given me?" (John 18:11). That cup is still ahead, the cup of agony and terrible separation that he knew awaited him on the cross.
Many Christians are deeply troubled by the idea that there ever was a time when Jesus did not want to do the Father's will, and they are upset when you suggest this. They usually offer that Jesus' statement, "Not my will, but yours be done," is the acme of perfect and voluntary submission on his part. It is. Jesus does want to do the Father's will, ultimately, and he does choose to obey. But the language is evacuated of its content if you take out all the sense of division and conflict that is in these words, "Yet not what I will, but what you will." Jesus did not want to obey. Something within him made him dread it, and we can understand why he did not want to go ahead, why he wanted to escape it. He asked for a way out, "Everything is possible for you"—i.e., "it's possible for you to come up with another option." “Yet,” he added, "not what I will, but what you will."
I am greatly helped by this trembling on Jesus' part. And I think the account in Hebrews 5 helps us greatly at this point. Hebrews tells us that this agony was so intense, so severe, that as Jesus fell upon his face, blood was forced from his veins by the agony and pressure within, so that his sweat fell in great drops of blood upon the ground. His mouth was opened in involuntary cries of anguish. Hebrews 5:7 says that with strong crying and tears he pleaded with his Father, the one who was able to save him from death; and he was heard. I think that is why Luke's account says an angel appeared to strengthen him. He was heard for his godly submission. Hebrews 5:8 says, "Son though he was, he learned obedience from what he suffered."
Hebrews tells us, "For we do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet he did not sin" (Hebrews 4:15). If he had never felt that divergence of will, that unwillingness to do what he ought to do because the Father wanted it, he could never have sympathized with me, because in my weakness I am frequently unwilling—and so are you. Jesus did not want to do what the Father wanted him to do. He had to compel himself to go on. And he did it by casting himself anew upon his Father's enabling strength. That is what his prayers in Gethsemane mean. There is much of mystery here. But there is also tremendous help and encouragement for those of us who struggle with the will of God.
For each of us, there comes a time when, no matter what the Word of God says, you do not want to obey. And as Jesus himself has shown us by example, the answer is to cast ourselves afresh upon the mercy and grace of God, knowing that if God does not go with us, it won't work. But we determine to pray the prayer of surrender because of the care of our loving Father. And, we determine to obey because of the faithfulness of God's character.
PRAYER:
Today, O Lord, I yield myself to you.
May your will be my delight today.
May your way have perfect sway in me.
May your love be the pattern of my living.
WHO AM I?
I am Tres Sansom, and I am so thankful that this scene is included in the gospel story. In the years following my injury, I meditated on this Scripture a number of times. I so desperately wanted my physical situation to change. I wanted to be able to run and jump and throw the football and go fishing and button my own pants and all the other things I had been able to do when able-bodied. I can't tell you how passionately I prayed for healing. Somewhere along the way, God got a hold of my heart and began to change something inside of me. Slowly but surely, I began to pray that God's will might be done with my life—regardless of my physical state. At first, it seemed weird to pray, "Not what I will, but what you will." I had to basically force myself to say those words. I didn't really "feel it" when saying this prayer. But, Jesus' example encouraged me, and so I continued surrendering my desires in prayer. Eventually, without even realizing when or where it took place, God took away all of my angst and fears and discontentment regarding my paralysis. He filled me with a sense of contentment and peace regarding my paralysis. Now, if I had my d’rathers, I'd prefer to be able-bodied as opposed to stuck in his wheelchair. But that's the way it goes sometimes. Sometimes, God has other things in mind for his glory and for the good of his children. He sees things from another perspective. All I know is that the experience of praying the prayer of surrender—with a raw sincerity and honesty—has transformed something inside of me that fills me with a sense of peace regarding the ups and downs of life. I'm not sure what tomorrow brings, but I know the character of the God who reigns and rules on high. And so, I joyfully surrender to his will and way.
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