DAY THREE -- Only the Father
The passion will inevitably remain extraneous to us until we go into it through the very narrow door of the “for our sake” because only he who acknowledges that the passion is his fault truly knows the passion. Everything else is a digression. —Raneiro Cantalamessa
Reflect
As you quiet your heart and subdue your thoughts, gently thank God for being with you today. Take a couple of minutes to affirm Christ’s presence here.
Read the following passage aloud, making it a personal prayer:
O God, You are my God; I shall seek You earnestly; my soul thirsts for You, my flesh yearns for You, in a dry and weary land where there is no water. Thus I have seen You in the sanctuary, to see Your power and Your glory. Because Your lovingkindness is better than life, my lips will praise You. So I will bless You as long as I live; I will lift up my hands in Your name. (Psalm 63:1–4 NASB)
Ask the Holy Spirit to be your Teacher and comforter through this time with Christ. Consider the prophetic descriptions of Jesus from Isaiah 53, listed below. Slowly speak each of the phrases, contemplating what it may mean.
a tender shoot
a root out of parched ground
no stately form or majesty that we should look upon Him
nor appearance that we should be attracted to Him
despised
forsaken of men
man of sorrows
acquainted with grief
one from whom men hide their face
we did not esteem Him
What do you see in Christ that perhaps you haven’t really comprehended before?
Read
Remain here and keep watch with Me. (Matthew 26:38 NASB)
Jesus moves away from these who have been His closest companions for the past three years. Yet He hesitates, perhaps wishing He could recapture the warm camaraderie they’ve known. He reminisces over Peter’s charging the ocean’s waves in blind faith and remembers the feel of John’s head against His chest as they dined a few hours ago. Recalling their naiveté and earthy take on life is like a soothing balm to the restlessness within His soul.
He searches their faces for some glimmer of hope. But there is little anyone can do now as spiritual forces in heavenly places draw their swords for battle. The fate of His final hours flashes in front of Him, and Jesus pleads: “Remain here and keep watch with Me.”
Such a simple request. Has He ever asked these men to do anything for Him before? From the moment He called them from their businesses and boats, did He depend on them at all to meet His needs?
He fed the five thousand—first the disciples and then the multitude. Did anyone make sure His stomach was filled with the broken bread and dried fish? He calmed the wind when the night wore thin and the disciples’ terror grew, but did any of them think to offer Him a warm blanket or bowl of broth? A few hours ago He washed their feet—did anyone wash His?
Moving a stone’s throw away, Christ begins to wrestle with the Father’s plan to redeem humankind. His cries grow louder, but the men have fallen asleep. They hear nothing.
Remain here and keep watch with Me. He asks for so little, but they can’t give it. These ones to whom Jesus gave His every waking moment for three years cannot stay awake for one hour at His request.
After a while He rises. Unable to continue the vigil, He crosses the few steps back to their side. John’s eyes fly open, then drop in shame. Peter props himself up against a tree, determined not to let the Master down again. James wets his eyes with dew from the fallen leaves, longing to do the right thing. But when Jesus turns away, their heads drop again as if drugged, escaping their own hidden turmoil. He stumbles back to the rock, His loneliness more intense than ever.
It must seem an eternity that Jesus agonizes in prayer before He returns to once again seek His followers’ nebulous aid. “Couldn’t you even watch for an hour?” He asks.
What fills His voice? Frustration? Fear? Anger? Disappointment? Sorrow? No one tries to answer. There are no words left to speak.
In the end, there is only the Father. He hovers near His child, though the agonizing dialogue between them is the start of a severing that will tear the Godhead apart. Visions of that moment torment the Son until He wonders if He can continue. He pleads with His friends, “Remain here and keep watch with Me,” but only the Father hears. Respond Sit quietly, contemplating the darkness that surrounded the disciples that night. See Jesus a short distance from you, His heart beginning to break, His cries growing louder and louder. Imagine yourself falling asleep, oblivious to His pain. Hear Him gently calling you by name: “Could you not watch for one hour?” Why do you think the disciples did not watch with Jesus? Why do you fail Him at times? Why were the disciples so out of touch with how terrible this time was for Christ? Are you at times out of touch with the true suffering of Christ? Why? Ask God to give you spiritual insight into what Jesus was about to experience as He asked the disciples to watch with Him. Spend a few moments in prayer over this. A Prayer Oh, my Lord, I long to understand the extent of Your isolation, the impact of Your lonely pain. Did You ever feel at home during Your stay on earth, or did You experience abandonment from the moment You burst upon this dark planet? I, too, have let You down a thousand times, and I cannot for one moment judge the disciples who slept while You grieved. I long to join You now, though. My heart beats as Yours breaks, and in my spirit I offer You a shoulder upon which to weep. Let me remain and keep watch with You this day.
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.
Write a prayer using some of the phrases from Isaiah (e.g., Lord, You were a tender shoot, like new life coming forth, fragile . . . and I crushed You).
Be quiet for at a period of time, allowing this experience to settle within your heart.
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