Learning from Gethsemane

"Then cometh Jesus with them unto a place called Gethsemane, and saith unto the disciples, Sit ye here, while I go and pray yonder." Matthew 26:36

It is good for the believer to visit Gethsemane often. Jesus had loved the stillness and, in a certain sense, the solitude of Gethsemane. How often did He come to this garden for His wearied soul’s refreshment? Just a few moments stolen from the noise of the city,

the strife of words,

the contradiction of sinners,

and the failing “little faith” of the disciples.

All these must have pained and distressed Him. But He found refreshment in solitude. Alone with His Father, He found peace and consolation deeper than words. It should be the same for every child of God.

In solitude with God, I find joy and comfort in some secret pavilion of the Father's presence. I go there alone and shut the door. I do not let worldly activity in. I love a secret nook, a quiet room, a solitary stream to which I may escape from the din, away from the words of men, and make it a holy place through meditation and prayer.

For this hour, Gethsemane’s hour, Christ came into the world. It was for this hour He had lived and prayed. Yet still, His soul is amazed and nigh unto death. He prays in agony. His sweats drops of blood. Who can pierce that darkness? Who can tell the secrets of the hour and power of darkness? Who can explain the cause of that mysterious agony? Is it even to be explained? No. It is beyond my understanding that my sin now touches that Holy One. Is not the Father’s judgment and wrath descending upon His innocent soul? Then why is it descending? Oh, for sinners lost! Who can answer this? In a new and fresh way, I see, “Who hath known the mind of the Lord?”

What can I learn here? Let me learn sin’s sinister work. Only for sin would we see the holy, spotless Savior enduring unspeakable sorrows. Only for sin would Christ drink dry the cup of suffering and wrath and swallow death whole. Can it be a light thing that caused the Son of God such groans, tears, and sorrow?

Let me learn in Gethsemane a lesson of prayer. Our Lord commanded His disciples as they entered the garden: "Watch and pray, lest ye enter into temptation." But they failed. Some little comfort would have come to Jesus in His agony if He had found them in earnest prayer for Him, pleading for the Father’s help. Pleading for themselves and praying for Him. But what do we find? Upon His return, the Son of Man is in agony still, but for a different reason. Satan, with his artillery, is peppering both Shepherd and sheep now! The enemies of Jesus are on the way to bind Him and carry Him away. And the disciples are asleep. Frail man! Yet He chides His brethren in bemoaning love, "Could ye not watch with Me one hour? The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak." Truly Christ fulfilled the prophecy now, "A bruised reed will He not break, nor quench the smoking flax."

But while the disciples fail, Christ fails not. And His prayer teaches us how to pray.

Let me imitate the fervency of Christ's prayer. Let it be real and heartfelt. Whatever my request—the removal of trial,

the provision of temporal good,

the forgiveness of sin,

more grace and life in the Spirit,— whatever it is,

that I would realize my urgent need,

and ask for it with true and heartfelt longings.

By the power of the Spirit, let prayer be prayer. No mere uttering of words (however beautiful) can be accepted by Him who always looks upon the heart.

Let me catch, as well, the flash of filial confidence Jesus had in prayer. What do I want? I want the humility of a sinner, joined with the confidence of a little redeemed child. That by the Spirit's Word without, and witness within, I may go before God, crying, "Abba, Father!" Even in seasons of deepest distress, I would find peace while clinging to a Father's hand, resting in a Father's love, and telling every care and trouble in a Father's ear.

But with this, as it was with Jesus, there must be perfect submission. Oh, that’s our cross Christ bids us to carry. We must be willing to drink the cup, even to the dregs, if He wills it. We must say, "Nevertheless, not as I will, but as Thou wilt" as we walk through life.

That Will is love;

that Will is unerring wisdom;

that Will is covenant faithfulness and truth.

And, therefore, we must be still and know that He is God.

And we must continue and persevere. We see here a three-peat petition. We hear the same words again and again, and again from Jesus until the conflict is over. That is how we should pray. That’s what not fainting looks like. To pray still, though I don't see my petition answered. Large and abundant answers will reward those who persevere in prayer. "Though the vision tarry, wait for it. It will surely come: it will not tarry."

Christ's prayer was heard. An angel was sent to strengthen Him. And with that He went forth so calmly, so willingly to His trial and death. The Father's will was done, and He rejoiced to do it. "The cup which my Father hath given Me, I shall drink it!"

In just this way, our desires and prayers may be fulfilled. We have an example in the Apostle Paul. It's very beautiful, the parallel between Gethsemane and the narrative given in 2 Cor. 12. Three times Paul prayed for the removal of the thorn,—yet it remained. Though the thorn came, grace was promised and was given with it: "My grace is sufficient for thee, for my strength is made perfect in weakness." And the Apostle was content. More than content. He believes the promise, and gloried in his infirmities that the power of Christ may rest upon Him. And so may we rest in God's dealings, and be assured that His way, not ours, is best.

Pray on.