DAY TWO -- Man of Sorrows
In the cross God is revealed not as One reigning in calm disdain above all the squalors of earth, but as One Who suffers more keenly than the keenest sufferer—“a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief.”
Oswald Chambers
Reflect
Begin your time with words of gratitude to God. Thank Him specifically for the life and love you have gained through salvation.
Ask God to speak to your heart today. Affirm His presence during this time of meditation and prayer
Ponder the following verse:
The word of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God. (1 Corinthians 1:18 NASB)
What does this mean to you? Ask the Holy Spirit to impart the meaning to you in a personal way. Write a prayer of thanksgiving based on what you’ve seen in your prayer journal.
Read
He said to them, “My soul is deeply grieved to the point of death.” (Mark 14:34 NASB)
The hour is late. Stillness settles like an eerie cloud over Jerusalem. As He enters the gate in the wall around Gethsemane, Jesus motions to Peter, James, and John to come with Him. The others sit down quietly to wait—for what, they do not know—as the three follow into the recesses of the garden.
Jesus moves slowly, perhaps stopping to lean against a gnarled tree trunk. White knuckles protrude from tightened fists and His head hangs in weariness. The men glance at one another, wondering what to do. Their Teacher has never been like this before. They saw Him cry when His friend Lazarus died; and only a week ago, as He entered Jerusalem, He sobbed out loud over the neediness there. Yet that was a strong cry—laced with sadness perhaps, but not despair.
This is different. Overwhelming sorrow consumes Him. Teeth clenched, Jesus utters: “My soul is deeply grieved to the point of death” . . . a beleaguered bellow from the depths of His being.
What must it be like to grieve to the point of death? The language here speaks of both physical pain and mental anguish. Jesus knows not only agony of soul, but feels life itself slipping away as distress distills in His veins. Perhaps He could die even now—simply close His eyes, let His heart break, and be swept into eternity’s glorious gates. Instead, He laments aloud the condition of His soul. My soul is deeply grieved to the point of death. Does He hope to be comforted? Wish things could be different? Is all this a surprise to the omniscient One? Didn’t He know before He came that His heart would tear in two? Does the omnipotent Son of God have no power over the pain that threatens to undo Him? As sporadic sounds waft through the air from the valley below, a deathly quiet pervades the Garden of Gethsemane. Jesus grieves. John longs to reach out but hesitates at the look of torment in his Teacher’s eyes. Peter looks around, ready to do something, anything, to end this agony. Jesus’ body begins to shake. The Man James once thought would be king is now pale, gaunt, and powerless. “Man of sorrows and acquainted with grief.” Strange words to describe a Deity. But He had given it all up—didn’t consider equality with God something to cling to. Now what must the Messiah think? Does He long for a taste of the days when angels sang and all of creation cried out to His exalted presence? Would He shed His royal robes so readily in light of this smothering sadness? Is the love that once sent Him spinning into a woman’s womb faltering, even a little? A resounding no echoes through the halls of eternity. The wretchedness written on the face of Christ will play itself out to the bitter end. Anything less would leave God’s children hanging in the balance, bound in the slave market of sin’s great camp. This He cannot allow. In some strange way, God the Father is pleased to crush His only Son. And so, as travelers below settle down for another night’s sleep, God’s eternal plan marches forward. Earth’s countless inhabitants are oblivious to the waves of emotion crashing into Jesus, the Christ, threatening to drown Him with their force. My soul is deeply grieved to the point of death. He mourns, but life goes on.
Respond Wait in the stillness of God’s presence for several minutes. Have you ever lost someone or something dear to you? Lifelong plans and dreams? Friendship? Mother? Father? Child? Think back to that time, or try to imagine the kind of grief that can be described only as agony—both physical and mental. Consider the words Jesus spoke: My soul is grieved to the point of death. Hear His voice speaking them. What might Jesus have been mourning in that moment? Ask God to give you a sense of the kind of sorrow Jesus was experiencing as He spoke those words. Wait and listen.
Read (or sing) the words to the old hymn below. Consider the face of Christ in the Garden as you do.
Hallelujah, What a Savior!
Philip P. Bliss
“Man of Sorrows!” what a name
For the Son of God, who came,
Ruined sinners to reclaim!
Hallelujah, what a Savior!
Spend some time in worship. Speak words of adoration, thanksgiving, awe, and wonder. Sing, lift your hands, and kneel in praise for One who would grieve as Jesus did and yet go on. Write a prayer of response in your prayer journal.
A Prayer
Man of sorrows . . . You have looked sorrow in the face and wept in its wasteland. And though You grieved to the point of death, You did not die. Not then. Oh, God, in the soil of Your sadness, seeds of hope are planted for a dying world. Let me search deeply this moment of Yours. Open wide my eyes that I might glimpse Your eternal sacrifice. Take me into Your dark night, and together we will acquaint ourselves with the paradox of grief’s glory.
Reprinted by permission. Contemplating the Cross: a Forty Day Pilgrimage of Prayer, Tricia McCary Rhodes, 2004, Thomas Nelson, Inc., Nashville, Tennessee. All rights reserved. Copying or using this material without written permission from the publisher is strictly prohibited and in direct violation of copyright law.
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