05/15/2018
My eyes became exceedingly dry, without moisture as I laid irritated but anxious, tossing and turning, colder than normal, and fighting to close off my mind to that of Jesus. I had seen Him earlier the previous day, surrounded by His disciples, as they shielded his appearance to that of the masses; I found this odd as I, along with others, were always so very excited to be near to Him, anxious to listen, amazed as to His healings and simply loved being consumed by His absolute presence. I had not witnessed this manner of secrecy before, as He normally walked openly among the people, and it stirred my curiosity as to their purpose.
They walked slowly, yet, at the same time seemed to be in a bit of a hurry towards their destination. I kept close, as they talked among themselves, their voices muffled, causing me further intrigue, and they were just unaware of my proximity to them as they all clamored near to His being. They turned the corner, close to my home, and descended into my neighbor’s home and proceeded up and into an upper room. I stood closely, hugging the stone, still warm from the day, yet now cooling quite quickly, at the base of the home and listened intently to their conversation through the opened window directly above my head. The windows, open to the full originally, soon were closed as the evening breeze brought forth a sting of cold.
With their conversation now completely cut off to my ears, I wandered back home, somewhat frustrated and ate our traditional Passover feast with my family. I went through the motions, but I was somewhere else within the confines of my mind; I knew that Jesus was probably enjoying the same tradition and I longed within, deeply, to be partaking of such with Him.
I also had become aware that Jesus, His disciples as well, would, as in the past, head for the Garden of Gethsemane at some point in the evening; it seemed to be one of their favorite gathering places. Tonight though, if they were to go to Gethsemane, would bring opportunity for me to once again be amongst them without their knowledge; they would have to pass right by my home and more specific my room. I went to my bed early, purposefully leaving my window open wide, anxiously anticipating their possible passing by?!
Minutes turned to hours and I found myself dozing off, only periodically, as unsuspecting passersby would cause me to take attention to their steps and or their voices. The early morning chill, now biting a bit harder, caused me to wrap my naked body in my bed linen. I had lost hope that they would venture to the garden, yet I laid, still, aware and anticipating the possibility.
Without warning, I heard not just a few walking, but surely a small group and I wished it was them. I lifted from my bed, peering out and towards the sound of the voices, careful to stay hidden within the cover of dark, and they came nearer still with each passing moment. As they approached my window, I slid down and away from their sight, but still close to the opened window and listened with all that I had for the voices that might be familiar to me; it was them!
I waited only until I was certain they would not see me follow and jumped out of the window quietly with bed linen still covering me; I wrapped it tighter around my body and slowly shadowed them to Gethsemane.
Soon they came to a stop and I witnessed Jesus, from a distance far enough not to be seen but within ear shot, and He said to His disciples, “Sit here, while I go and pray yonder.” He then took Peter, James and John, separating them from the rest, and came closer to where I was hiding. Almost instantly his countenance changed; for the first time, I saw him filled with grief and uncertainty. I had no idea as to the cause and sat increasingly disheartened; this was not the same Jesus that I had encountered so many times before and I began to break emotionally. He then said to them, “my soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto death: tarry ye here, and watch with me.” I began to cry, trying not to be heard, and was overcome with a myriad of emotion as to what was playing out before my eyes?
He then, alone, went a little further still, away from their sight, and fell on his face. I stepped closer, unwilling to leave Him alone as the others soon fell asleep, and He prayed, saying, “O my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me: nevertheless, not as I will, but as thou wilt.” He was in tremendous agony, praying more fervently, and I watched, crying all the more, with eyes now beyond blurred, as droplets of sweat fell as blood to the ground. I wanted to scream, I wanted to yell at the disciples, now sleeping heavily, to awake and come to His aid but something held my tongue.
I could do nothing but sit in agony as my heart burst with compassion and with a love not of this world. I wished I could have reached out to him, just to let him know that he was not alone but I felt as if I was intruding on such an intimate conversation that I simply sat whimpering as a small child, under the cover of darkness.
Without warning, He rose, and walked back, again His countenance changing instantly, now with a profound confidence, and approached those disciples still sleeping. He simply noted, “the hour is come; behold, the Son of man is betrayed into the hands of sinners. Rise up, let us go; lo, he that betrayeth me is at hand.”
No sooner had he finished his sentence, I heard in the distance a small group of people quickly approaching our location; the closer they came it became evident that something was dreadfully wrong as swords and clubs accompanied their arrival. I soon was overcome with fear and began to distance myself from the situation; I walked away quietly and soon their angry voices began to diminish with distance now between me and them. My heart began to beat terribly within my chest and each step away from Jesus brought forth a greater revelation of my cowardice.
I turned back and as I came close to them once again suddenly, His disciples scurried past me, one after another running and fleeing for their lives and I stood utterly confused and conflicted. I watched as the angry band of men forcefully bound and led Jesus away and from the garden; I simply could not bear seeing Him forsaken and though I knew my life too might be hanging in the balance, seeing Jesus alone was too much for me. I stood crying, now in full sight and I screamed with all that was within me…Jesus! I simply wanted him to know that He was not alone, that there still remained one, near to Him.
Several of the men broke off from the group and quickly began to push and pull me angrily as they beat me with their clubs; the pain from each blow somehow quickened me and I struggled with them as they tried their best to contain me. With one last burst of energy I twisted and turned and felt freedom from their grasp as I ran away naked from them. I ran and ran, not looking back and soon found myself exhausted from the early morning experience. I was tired, thirsty, naked, cold and ashamed that I had not been brave enough to endure the suffering with Jesus…
Father, this story has caused me to contemplate much. Why is the young man, one that followed you with fervor, endangering his own life, on that unforgettable early morning, held in scripture with no name? I can only imagine, simply, that it is so, because it affords us an opportunity to place each of our names in his stead. How many of us have followed you with a zeal that is unmatched, loving you with much passion, seeking your face with urgency, only to find ourselves too, unaware and or aware, of our forsaking you for something else of this world, absolutely naked and with our heads, once held high, now hanging in disbelief, in doubt, in confusion, in uncertainty as to your presence in our lives? Recently Father, you made it so very clear as to the tactic of him, that I want desperately to refuse to mention, but must so that there is a clear understanding as to his subtleties. The very first question posed in scripture was that of the serpent, to Eve, as you heard it voiced and brought to life so many years ago. “Yea, hath God said, ye shall not eat of every tree of the garden? With that question he revealed the one tactic he would use on each and every human being that would seek relationship with you…doubt! If he can take us down this path of doubt, indecision comes forth, hesitation arises, confusion resides, and mistrust finds its way into our lives, weakening our resolve, hindering our walk and, if not addressed, traversing this earth, inadequate, in your stead, amongst and in a world that is so desperate for light; the light that shall expose the darkness and what binds them, and us too as believers, rendering us ineffectual, weak and woefully powerless. It is time, as each day passes into the next, bringing us closer to the end, for us, that follow Him quietly and, in the shadows, to awaken from our slumber, to hear with a sense of urgency, the words spoken by your Son, to those closest to him that early morning in the crisp air of the Garden of Gethsemane, “Rise up, let us go…”
Matthew 25:34-40 “Then shall the King say unto them on his right hand, come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world: For I was hungry, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in: Naked and ye clothed me: I was sick, and ye visited me: I was in prison, and ye came unto me. Then shall the righteous answer him, saying, Lord, when saw we thee hungry, and fed thee? Or thirsty, and gave thee drink? When saw we thee a stranger, and took thee in? Or naked, and clothed thee? Or when saw we thee sick, or in prison, and came unto thee? And the King shall answer and say unto them, verily I say unto you, inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these thy brethren, ye have done it unto me.”
Father, as with Christ, we acknowledge that the trials, the tribulation, and the persecution WILL follow our rising. Fill us, Father, with nothing less than that of the Spirit of your Son, that power from on high, that will cause us to endure beyond our own limitations! We love you Father, we thank you for the Passion of Christ and for the gift of thine Holy Spirit.
Undone,
Daniel