In this article, we briefly consider the time the Lord Jesus spent in the Garden of Gethsemane. There, we will see Him under immense pressure and in deep anguish of soul as He anticipates the work of sin-bearing. We will learn His primary purpose was prayer, to lay bare His troubled heart and to affirm His unyielding submission to the Father’s will. For us, there is much in this intimate scene to soften our hearts, and many valuable lessons to learn from the Saviour. As we see Him cast upon God, let us humbly ask, ‘Lord, teach us to pray’, Luke 11. 1.
It was late at night as the Lord Jesus and His disciples moved through the dark streets of Jerusalem. They left the city, crossed the Kidron valley and began their ascent of the Mount of Olives, heading to a familiar place, a peaceful olive grove known as ‘Gethsemane’. This was a place to which the Lord Jesus and His disciples regularly retired to escape the demanding and curious crowds of pilgrims that thronged Jerusalem at Passover time.
Early the next morning, the Lord Jesus would stand silently before Pilate. He would be falsely accused, shamelessly humiliated, mercilessly beaten and unjustly condemned to a criminal’s death. As He entered Gethsemane just hours before, He knew every excruciating detail of the path that lay ahead. Not only the unrelenting hatred and cruelty of sinful men, but the abandonment of God as He bore the full penalty for sin alone. And so, this would be a momentous and climactic night. A night of unprecedented sorrow and heart-rending anguish. A night spent in earnest and contending prayer as He anticipated and prepared for the abhorrent reality of His sinless soul being made sin for us. That prospect hung as a dark and foreboding cloud upon the person of the Lord Jesus as He entered the garden.
The name ‘Gethsemane’ means oil (or olive) press. Here the olives would be crushed to reveal their inner richness. So too, in Gethsemane, the Lord Jesus would be crushed with the weight of anticipation, revealing the inner richness of His lovely character.
As Judas Iscariot and his co-conspirators made their plans to arrest the Lord Jesus, the Saviour purposefully retired to the seclusion of Gethsemane. Leaving eight disciples at the entrance of the garden, He instructed them, ‘Sit ye here, while I go and pray yonder’, Matt. 26. 36. His purpose in coming to Gethsemane was clear; as Calvary drew ever nearer, He longed for a time of communion with the Father.
It was late, possibly close to midnight, when the Lord Jesus reached Gethsemane. Since arriving in Jerusalem a few days earlier, His days had been filled with activity and marked by a growing tension. Both Jesus and His disciples were physically exhausted and emotionally drained. The preceding day had included the preparations for the Passover, while the evening hours involved eating the final Passover meal, the identification of Judas as the betrayer, the institution of the Lord’s Supper and the momentous lessons of the upper room ministry, John 13-17. Notwithstanding His aching tiredness, one thing remained before Judas’ arrival would set in train the events that would propel the Lord Jesus to the cross. He must pray!
Quietness and solitude were the traits that drew the Lord Jesus to Gethsemane. Here was a place free from distraction and disruption. Here was a place where He could privately and purposefully commune with the Father. Neither His exhaustion, nor the presence of Peter, James, and John, who had accompanied Him into the garden proper, would keep Him from going a ‘ little further’, Matt. 26. 39, to enter ‘the holiest of all’ and to pray three times.
The lesson for us is clear. As the Lord was purposeful and deliberate with regard to the priority and place of prayer, so must we be. If we are serious in our longing for communion with God; if we understand the need for His light on our pathway; if the reality of our daily dependence on Him burns within us; if our commitment to obeying His will is genuine, we must give priority to prayer. The Lord Jesus practised this in His own life,1and likewise taught the importance of having a private place for prayer, Matt. 6. 5, 6.
To be deliberate in our prayer does not diminish the need for spontaneous prayer through the course of each day, as circumstances dictate. However, the importance of making time, and having a place for prayer, should not be compromised.
With the attention to detail characteristic of a physician, Luke highlights the physical extremity of the Lord Jesus as He prays. Luke alone observes the appearance of an angel from heaven ‘strengthening’ the Lord Jesus, Luke 22. 43. Then, in verse 44, he carefully chooses four unique words to record his observations. He speaks of the Lord being in ‘an agony’ and tells us the result of that agony was that He prayed ‘more earnestly’. Both words are unique in the Greek text and deservedly so as the Lord’s agony was unique, as was the earnestness of His prayer. Then Luke records the physical impact of that agonizing and earnest prayer, pointing to blood-tainted ‘sweat’ and the ‘great drops’ that formed and fell to the ground. Again, both words are unique in the original language and appropriately so as the Saviour uniquely agonized in prayer. Why is Luke driven to use such unprecedented language to describe this scene? Because of the unique character of the events which he is recording - the divine sufferings of the Saviour.
To pray ‘more earnestly’ - as Luke describes - is to pray with more intensity, with more fervency, with a burning sense of need. To underscore the intensity of the Lord’s prayer in Gethsemane, the writer to the Hebrews says that He offered up ‘prayers and supplications with strong crying and tears’, Heb. 5. 7. In mentioning this more earnest prayer, Luke does not record the words that the Lord Jesus used in that prayer. Perhaps it was that words were not sufficient to express the need? And so this more earnest prayer was not defined so much by what the Lord Jesus said, as by the absence of words and the parallel appearance of large drops of blood-tainted sweat on His blessed brow.
How earnest, fervent, and intense are our prayers? Do we fall victim to prayer that is without heart, without burden, without thought, and without expectation? The honest answer is that we do. But a glimpse of the Saviour, prostrate on the ground in Gethsemane, confronts us with a stark contrast and a wonderful example. His earnestness was such that words were inadequate, while large, bloodstained drops of sweat formed on His brow and fell heavily to the ground. Of course, His extremity was unique and we will never match the depth of His divine suffering, but the path of life will inevitably confront us with experiences that compel us to pray. Not just formal, mechanical, empty prayer, but more earnest prayer. It is a great encouragement to know that the Lord Jesus has taken this path before us. He knows our need, feels our burden, groans with understanding empathy and aches with heart-felt sympathy. And so, by means of His own human experience He has been fitted to undertake for us as our Great High Priest, Heb. 4. 14-16. Paul describes a further provision for prayer, Rom. 8. 26, when words fail to express our need, when we struggle because ‘we know not what we should pray for as we ought’, then it is we must pray more earnestly, resting on the assurance that the Holy Spirit makes up for our failure to articulate the need by making ‘intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered [“too deep for words” ESV]’.
There is an enduring echo from Gethsemane, found in the words, ‘nevertheless not my will, but thine, be done’, Luke 22. 42. Three times the Lord Jesus prayed and three times He voiced this unwavering commitment to the Father’s will.
As He prayed, the Lord Jesus likened the work of the cross to a cup which He must drain to its last, bitter drop. The very thought was repulsive and abhorrent to Him. As we hear His words, ‘if it be possible, let this cup pass from me’, Matt. 26. 39, we ask was the Lord Jesus expecting the Father to take that cup away, to propose another means of dealing with the sin question? No! The Lord Jesus knew there was no other way. Redemption’s price demanded His death. He alone was qualified to bear ‘our sins in his own body on the tree’, 1 Pet. 2. 24. His prayer was not for a last-minute change of plan, it was the uninhibited unburdening of His troubled soul as a dependent man. A real man, subject to all the limitations of manhood, including the repulsive prospect of suffering and dying as a man on the behalf of men and, more agonizingly, of being forsaken of God when His suffering would reach its climax. In offering this prayer, the Lord Jesus teaches the vital lesson of what it means to lean in full dependence on the Father.
Rather than questioning the Father’s will, the Lord Jesus elevated it to a place of uncompromising priority.
Standing as a sentinel alongside the Lord’s earnestness in prayer was His unwavering conviction that there was no better, nor more important, path than that of obedience to the Father’s will. Nothing would discourage or distract Him from that path. How unlike Christ we can be in this matter! Too often, the thoughtless and impulsive ease with which we act and react relegates God to observer status in our lives, and the will of God to a nice-to-have rather than a non-negotiable necessity. What damage is done, what blessing is lost, when we allow self-will rather than the Father’s will to have sway.
Anna Jane Grannis puts it beautifully in her poem An Exchange of Wills:
‘I want my heart so cleared of self,
That my dear Lord may come,
And set up His own furnishings,
And make my heart His home.
And since I know what this requires,
Each morning while it’s still,
I slip into that secret place,
And leave with Him - my will.
He always takes it graciously,
Presenting me with His,
I’m ready then to meet the day
And any task there is.
And this is how my Lord controls,
My interests, my ills,
Because we meet at break of day,
For an exchange of wills’.
There is much to learn from the Lord’s time in Gethsemane. Prayer is a prominent lesson, but even there we have barely scratched the surface. May the Lord help us to study in the ‘School of Gethsemane’ and to draw out vital and practical lessons in Christlikeness.
PHILIP COLLIER lives in Melbourne, Australia and fellowships with the Mulgrave Christian Assembly. He is involved in gospel preaching, Bible teaching, youth work, and children’s outreach locally and elsewhere. This is his first article for Precious Seed.
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