“The Quiet Stillness” | Originally Published April 15, 2022
As I sit here, in the quiet stillness of the slumbering hours, the night before Good Friday, my heart ponders what it must have been like in the quiet and loneliness of that night . . . the eve of the darkest day in history . . .
32 And they went to a place called Gethsemane. And he said to his disciples, “Sit here while I pray.” 33 And he took with him Peter and James and John, and began to be greatly distressed and troubled. 34 And he said to them, “My soul is very sorrowful, even to death. Remain here and watch.” 35 And going a little farther, he fell on the ground and prayed that, if it were possible, the hour might pass from him. 36 And he said, “Abba, Father, all things are possible for you. Remove this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what you will.” 37 And he came and found them sleeping, and he said to Peter, “Simon, are you asleep? Could you not watch one hour? 38 Watch and pray that you may not enter into temptation. The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.” 39 And again he went away and prayed, saying the same words. 40 And again he came and found them sleeping, for their eyes were very heavy, and they did not know what to answer him. 41 And he came the third time and said to them, “Are you still sleeping and taking your rest? It is enough; the hour has come. The Son of Man is betrayed into the hands of sinners. 42 Rise, let us be going; see, my betrayer is at hand. Mark 14:32-42 ESV
Jesus already knew what was ahead for him. There was plenty to make his heart heavy, and his friends couldn’t even stay awake to keep watch. He told his friends that his soul was sorrowful to death. Even though praying by himself was intentional, I’m sure he felt isolated and alone when he came back to find his friends asleep. Not once, but three times!
“Could you not watch one hour?”
Jesus returns to his solitude of sorrowful prayer with his Father. Luke’s gospel describes the scene with a slightly different perspective, and much more intensity.
40 And when he came to the place, he said to them, “Pray that you may not enter into temptation.” 41 And he withdrew from them about a stone's throw, and knelt down and prayed, 42 saying, “Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me. Nevertheless, not my will, but yours, be done.” 43 And there appeared to him an angel from heaven, strengthening him. 44 And being in agony he prayed more earnestly; and his sweat became like great drops of blood falling down to the ground. Luke 22:40-44 ESV
Isn’t it like that for us sometimes? I think we have a tendency to take for granted the immense agony and sacrifice that the cross meant to Jesus . . . so that we can sleep. “The spirit is indeed willing, but the flesh is weak.”
The agony of the inevitable was so intense that His sweat colored the earth as drops of blood. Even before any affliction happened to His physical body, the emotional torment shared between the Son and His Father spilled the first drops of His sacrificial bloodshed, the greatest love gift in history.
And it was given to us!
I often think about another aspect of this ultimate sacrifice. Something that doesn’t necessarily get as much consideration as the suffering Jesus endured is the sorrow His Father must have suffered as Jesus hung on the cross bearing the sin of the world. Jesus cries out from the cross the same words of David from Psalm 22, “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?” Even if Jesus was only feeling abandoned, I can’t imagine that wasn’t devastating for God the Father, allowing His only son to become the sacrificial lamb. And yet, He must have been a proud Father at the same time. Maybe it’s something too infinite for our finite understanding. (And that’s okay.)
34 And at the ninth hour Jesus cried with a loud voice, “Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?” which means, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Mark 15:34 ESV
Not only was the soul of the Son “very sorrowful” on the eve of His death, but I imagine the heart of his Father shared in the grief. If the Father was in the Son and the Son in the Father, doesn’t it make sense that the blood-sweat and tears Jesus shed at Gethsemane could have also been due to understanding the truth of His Father’s agony? The Father’s sacrifice of losing His Son to death and separation gives my own heart reason to grieve with so much more gratefulness.
The thing that we have that the disciples didn’t have is hindsight. Even though we can read about their devastation and grief from firsthand accounts in Scripture, we won’t ever know that same desperation of loss. Yes, Jesus told them what was to come after his death, but the understanding didn’t necessarily register until they saw the risen Jesus with their own eyes.
We can feel the grief and sorrow in our reflection of the Son’s agonizing death and the Father’s sorrowful sacrifice, but we don’t have to stay there! Scripture can be read with an understanding as if reading the last page first, from a place of triumph. We can remember the pain long enough to adjust our position to a humble acceptance of His gift of love to us, but then we can dwell in the victory of His resurrection!
I started writing this reflection and worship late last night. Early this morning God so graciously helped me out of bed to continue writing more in this heart space while I watched for the sunrise.
On this Good Friday I’ve been trying to allow my thoughts to imagine the darkest day in history, the pain He endured, the scorn and shame. I am so aware of my flesh that makes me weak, stumbling constantly in the behavior that required God’s sacrifice, Jesus’ death on the cross. But it’s hard to keep my thoughts from skipping ahead, because I know the victory that has already been won!
by Janene Zirges I love this picture that a friend of mine captured after hiking up to wait for the quiet, mountain sunrise. You can even see a hint of the sun’s glow shining behind the mountain. It’s a perfect picture of our anticipation of Jesus’ bright, shining victory over death, as we watch for the Son to rise, knowing the cross was not the end!
“The sun is over the building now. It’s blinding me when I face that direction . . . just like Jesus! I look to you for light, ‘the light of the world‘, whose radiance shines brightly when we look in your direction.”
Let’s celebrate this Good Friday in humble reverence, knowing it is only good because the following Sunday is GREAT!
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Thank you for sharing your Spirit led insightful words. This is very meaningful and put my heart and mind in a reverent posture.