Jesus touches Judas’s face, aching sadness pulling at the corners of His mouth. “Friend, do what you came to do.”

Confused, Judas steps back, and suddenly everyone moves at once. The mob closes in as religious leaders press to the front. At last they’ve got Him, this carpenter who mocked them again and again, with answers they couldn’t dispute, amid crowds clamoring for His touch. Tonight He won’t find it so easy.

Time is of the essence, the cover of darkness the priests’ only hope for completing their plan. The blasphemer must be tried, convicted, and sentenced to death in their courts well before His foolish followers greet the morning light.

The disciples are stunned, paralyzed with shock. “What do You want us to do?” one of them manages to ask, but Peter has already sprung into action. Tearing his sword from its sheath, he stabs at a man who has Jesus by the arm, slicing off the man’s ear.

The servant of the high priest screams, grabbing at the gaping wound. Soldiers try to quell the growing chaos, barking orders that no one seems to hear. Tensions mount and fear fills the air.

Jesus kneels to pick up the severed ear. In silence He restores it to the man’s head while the crowd looks on in disbelief. Jesus then turns to His disciples and admonishes them to put their swords away, searching their faces for a sign that they understand.

How many times has He warned them of this moment? What will it take for them to realize that this is the way it must be? Don’t they see the choice He is making for them, for the world?

They’d like it to be so simple, a clash of force. That kind of battle he could win in an instant. He glances upward, comprehending something they can’t even imagine. Moving His hands across the misty night air, He tries to explain: “Thousands upon thousands of angels would come in an instant to wage war on My behalf, if I asked. But I have a cup to drink. Can’t you see that this is what the prophets foretold?”

The disciples hesitate, glancing at one another. Peter reluctantly puts his sword away as the others follow suit. None of this makes sense, but clearly this is not the time to trouble their Teacher with questions.

The priests, relieved at the respite, urge the soldiers to do their job. They grab Jesus’ hands, binding them behind Him with rough twine. He does not resist.

Then all the disciples left Him and fled. One by one they disappear. Some try to hide in the massive foliage of olive trees. Others hurry down a lesser-known path to reach the safety of their families. Those who are able find themselves mixing with the crowd, unnoticed and unidentifiable as followers of Jesus of Nazareth.

He looks into the eyes of the religious leaders who have been dogging His steps all week. “Day after day I have been with you, and you could have taken Me then. This, too, the prophets said would happen—this is your hour and the power of darkness.”

Incensed at His arrogance, the priests press in, demanding action. The soldiers tighten the twine until it cuts into the flesh of His wrists and shove Him forward. Jesus glances around for the last time at the Garden He has come to love so well, looking for a final familiar face.

Then all the disciples left Him and fled. Alone. Does He recall other lonely moments across the span of His short life on earth? His forty-day fast in the wilderness? Quiet mornings in prayer down the dusty paths of Jericho? Long, dark nights when sleep eluded Him and He sought solace in the company of His Father?

Solitude is nothing new to Jesus, yet this is so very different. This time, He will not return to His disciples’ side to teach and heal and soothe their souls with His tender touch. This time, He goes to lay down His life. This is the end. And Jesus has never been more alone than in this moment when all the disciples left Him and fled.

Respond

Have you ever been alone, truly alone? Where there was no one to call, no place to go? Have you ever felt abandoned by those you loved? Consider what Jesus felt in that moment when they all fled. Think of all He has done and said to them. Think of all He will do in the coming hours. Muse on His pain.

It is the cross of Christ that writes His love on our heart. Without a deep, abiding grasp of this, we will always flounder in our Christian walk. Years after Jesus’ death, John wrote: “We love, because He first loved us” (1 John 4:19 NASB).

Have you really understood that we cannot love God on our own, that we cannot conjure it up? We love because He loved us first. This is the message of the Cross. Write a prayer of confession, commitment, or worship in response to the Lord.

A Prayer

Dearest Shepherd of my soul, now You walk through the valley of the shadow of death, alone . . . so very alone. Did they glance back, hoping to catch Your eye one more time? Or did they scurry away, like rats returning to the gutter of their existence? You walk a lonely road, my Lord, and I feel the pain of abandonment in my own gut. I follow You . . . truly I do. Though none go with me, still I will follow. I pray it is so.

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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Copyright © 2004 Tricia McCary Rhodes