The Garden 

I bet Jesus was scared that night. Can you imagine? That night in the Garden of Gethsemane. I bet when the sun fell the cold wrapped around his bones and made him shake from within. I bet he couldn’t stop shivering. I am certain that every noise was amplified. The sounds of crickets chirping and frogs croaking probably sounded like thunder echoing in a valley. I can imagine that the fear and sorrow he endured in that one moment was worse than any single juncture that a human has ever experienced. I would guess that the overwhelming grief crept up His body like a vine. Twisting and turning until eventually the grief strangled the last bit of hope he had left. 

I bet his heart was pounding out of his chest. The anguish and anticipation of what he was about to go through had to have been unbearable. I bet he cried so hard that he couldn’t breath – eyes swollen, lungs burning, nose running. It’s really not a pretty story. It’s one of betrayal and excruciating physical and mental pain. He could have given up. He could have given in. But he didn’t. He didn’t because he loved us more. 

That love is unfathomable to me.

And going a little farther he fell on his face and prayed, saying, “My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as you will.” – Matthew 26:39

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