“Father, if you are willing, take this
cup from me; yet not my will, but yours be done.” An angel from heaven appeared
to him and strengthened him. And being in anguish, he prayed more earnestly,
and his sweat was like drops of blood falling to the ground. When he rose from
prayer and went back to the disciples, he found them asleep, exhausted from
sorrow. “Why are you sleeping?” he asked them. “Get up and pray so that you
will not fall into temptation.” (Luke 22:42-26)
Going a little farther, he fell with his face to the ground and prayed, “My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will.” Then he returned to his disciples and found them sleeping. “Could you men not keep watch with me for one hour?” he asked Peter. “Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the body is weak.”
He went away a second time and prayed, “My Father, if it is not possible for this cup to be taken away unless I drink it, may your will be done.” When he came back, he again found them sleeping, because their eyes were heavy.
So he left them and went away once more and prayed the third time, saying the same thing. Then he returned to the disciples and said to them, “Are you still sleeping and resting? Look, the hour is near, and the Son of Man is betrayed into the hands of sinners. Rise, let us go! Here comes my betrayer!” (Matthew 26:39-46)
How
many Gethsemanes have you faced? I’m not asking how many times you faced death for
something you didn’t do. I’m asking how many times you’ve faced the decision of
whether or not to do something you don’t want to do – really, really don’t want
to do. I’m not sure how many times I’ve faced it, but it seems to me that I
face it more frequently than I care to admit.
My Gethsemanes aren’t over things with such high stakes, at least from my perspective. They tend to be over tiny things. Am I doing to do what I’m sure is God’s will, or am I going to sing with Frank that at the very least, I did it my way. I think I prayed my first “Not my will, but thine be done,” prayer in the early 80s. I’m sure it was over something trivial. Within the past couple years, I think I changed my name for them from “Not my will” prayers to “Bow the knee” prayers, but they are the same idea, the often heart-wrenching, definitely will-wrenching prayers in which we tell God to do what He wants no matter how much it hurts, no matter how much we don’t want it. I think we need more Gethsemanes, and deeper Gethsemanes.
This morning, I find myself with a second thought on this scene. I’ve described it as a “life and death” decision, but I’m not sure I’m right about that. Jesus asked the Father to remove the cup from Him (but not my will, but Thine be done) because He didn’t want to face death – not just the physical death, but the death that is separation from the Father. Could He have prayed three times because there were three options? At that moment, the best answer was for the Father to come up with a better plan. At that precise moment, the second (and only better, not best) answer was to carry on with the plan as it was. But there was a third possible answer. Jesus could have refused. If He had refused, if the flesh had won the battle, I suspect it would have meant far more than we can begin to imagine, including God failing at being God. But the thing it would have meant that comes to mind here is that Jesus would have been separated from the Father by His own sin, and permanently, rather than merely by our sins and for a time. I can’t imagine such a thing happening, but Jesus was tempted as we are, yet without sin. The temptation had to be there to exert His will.
Unfortunately, for most of us, this third answer is our choice.
My Gethsemanes aren’t over things with such high stakes, at least from my perspective. They tend to be over tiny things. Am I doing to do what I’m sure is God’s will, or am I going to sing with Frank that at the very least, I did it my way. I think I prayed my first “Not my will, but thine be done,” prayer in the early 80s. I’m sure it was over something trivial. Within the past couple years, I think I changed my name for them from “Not my will” prayers to “Bow the knee” prayers, but they are the same idea, the often heart-wrenching, definitely will-wrenching prayers in which we tell God to do what He wants no matter how much it hurts, no matter how much we don’t want it. I think we need more Gethsemanes, and deeper Gethsemanes.
This morning, I find myself with a second thought on this scene. I’ve described it as a “life and death” decision, but I’m not sure I’m right about that. Jesus asked the Father to remove the cup from Him (but not my will, but Thine be done) because He didn’t want to face death – not just the physical death, but the death that is separation from the Father. Could He have prayed three times because there were three options? At that moment, the best answer was for the Father to come up with a better plan. At that precise moment, the second (and only better, not best) answer was to carry on with the plan as it was. But there was a third possible answer. Jesus could have refused. If He had refused, if the flesh had won the battle, I suspect it would have meant far more than we can begin to imagine, including God failing at being God. But the thing it would have meant that comes to mind here is that Jesus would have been separated from the Father by His own sin, and permanently, rather than merely by our sins and for a time. I can’t imagine such a thing happening, but Jesus was tempted as we are, yet without sin. The temptation had to be there to exert His will.
Unfortunately, for most of us, this third answer is our choice.
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