Well, tonight is the night.
He is going to be in the garden by himself all alone and scared. He’s going to have friends with him not far away, but they’re going to fall asleep, not because they’re tired, but because they’re so full of grief. He’s going to be so freaked out and distraught that he bleeds through his sweat glands. The heaviness of dying is on top of him and he is not going to escape it. He asks to please escape it if there is any other way, but there isn’t. An angel comes from heaven to be with him, to strengthen him and to comfort him.
This is me calling to mind the love of Jesus for me today. So goes Good Friday. Some people call it Great and Holy Friday.
I’m like the disciples of His that were with him that night. Tired in my grief. Close to Him, but not very present when He asks me to be with Him… and it’s okay because He went through it all because He loves me. No guilt. Just love.
The love of God is foolish. It’s so absurd that He loves me. I love God’s absurdity.
Thank you for going it alone, Jesus. I remember right now. My heart feels your pull and I have compassion when I think of you in the garden all by yourself crying and pleading and fearing. You went through with it. Thank you. I love you.