“And He began to be deeply distressed and troubled. “My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death.” He said to them, “Stay here and keep watch.”” (Mark 14:33-34 NIV)
We are still following Jesus along the hard path of holy week. Thus far, we’ve paraded dow Palm Sunday road, watched Him overturn tables and curse a fig tree, even heard His final teaching in the Temple. We’ve sat in silent Wednesday and finally arrived at the hardest stretch of hours. On Thursday evening, He broke bread with His disciples and shared strange words about His body and blood. Then they all went out of the Upper Room singing songs as they climbed a nearby mountain. It was there that Jesus changed tunes entirely. In the wee hours, Jesus poured Himself out in prayer. Only the olive trees stood as witness to His distress. Though His disciples were in attendance, their attention span was lacking, they fell asleep while their Savior sat in an emotional pressure cooker. While it’s tempting to make accusations, I’m unconvinced that my concentration would be any better. I have never been an up-all-night person.
As I walk along the gospels this week, I’m still working my way through the Last Supper on the Moon. The author, Levi Lusko, talks about crowded hours. He quotes Thomas Mordaunt:
“One crowded hour of glorious life is worth an age without a name.”
Levi shares how a person can spend their lives on the wrong project only to discover themselves unprepared for their hour of opportunity. Then He expounds upon Jesus’ crowded hour. Jesus lived His thirty-three years on earth in preparation for the final night and day of His life. All of the gospels, and time itself led up to the cross and, remarkably, Jesus arrive at His hour fully prepared to persevere perfectly.
It’s notable that the eleven could plainly see the distress Jesus was enduring that night. The Garden of Gethsemene lies on a mountainside and it would have been a near-full moon. I learned just last week that Passover only ever takes place on a full moon; and thus our modern-day Easter celebration is synced with the phases of this celestial body as well. This detail makes a great deal of sense if we recall what occurred on that first Passover more than three thousand years ago. 400,000 Jews with wives and children evacuated Egypt in the fourth watch of the night. All this took place in a day and age without flashlights or floodlamps, God ordained the moon to light their way when they stepped out in obedience.
Jesus had asked His closest friends to sit with Him in His sorrow. He bid them to stay awake and then He went on a little farther. Because of the moon’s brightest light, their suffering Savior would have been in full view. Jesus’ anxiety was pronounced to the point of perspiring blood. I can’t imagine His prayers were subdued. I can picture Him crying out in anguish, weeping and sighing deeply. It would have been quite a scene, and still, they could not stay awake.
“Then He returned to the disciples and found them sleeping.” (Mark 14:37 NIV)
The disciples abandoned Jesus in His hour of need. Truly, they did it twice; first in prayer and then in arrest. We can trip over their failures and weep over our own, but we can also marvel over the fact that Jesus is a better friend then we could ever be.
Jesus is ever-present and ever-willing to sit with us in our sorrow. I have had several crowded hours; places of intense pain and pressure that have threatened to sink me entirely. You know what I have found to be true every time? Jesus is with me always. Immanuel is endlessly available to sit in my mud and tears and blood. He never forsakes. He never abandons. He never says “Your grief is too messy for Me.” He doesn’t sleep or slumber. He won’t retreat or pull back. He will come as close as allow Him and stay until we chase Him away.
We will inevitably have a crowded hour or two. The question is, in our most painful and pressurefull moments, will we attend to Jesus the way He attends to us? Today, will we willingly sit with Jesus in His sorrow, in His questions, in His brazen obedience? Or will we fall asleep because the trauma is just too much?
Lord, forgive us for all the ways we’ve turned away and doze off when You have requested our full attention. Help us learn to sit with You in hard places; Yours and ours alike. May we be willing to weep with You and stay close no matter how intense it may be. Amen.