Day Five

MAKING THE PASSION PERSONAL
A Journey with Jesus to the Cross and Beyond

Tricia McCary Rhodes

DAY FIVE -- Human . . . and Weak

. . . only one act of pure love, unsullied by any taint of ulterior motive has ever been performed in the history of the world, namely the self-giving of God in Christ on the cross of undeserving sinners. That is why, if we are looking for a definition of love, we should look not in a dictionary, but at Calvary.

John R. Stott

Spend a few minutes quieting your heart before God. Think of the word "passion." It means "unfailing commitment" and is synonymous with words like ardor, fire, fervor. See Jesus with an ardent, fervent, fiery commitment to go to the Cross. Worship Him.

Perhaps the most famous verse in the Bible is John 3:16 -- For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life. Meditate on the truth of this, trying to grasp it as if you have never heard the words before.

The battle in the Garden continues to wear on Jesus until it feels as if his very breath has been knocked from him. He gasps. Reckoning with the weakness of his own flesh reminds him of the three sleeping nearby.

Rising, Jesus studies their faces across the way. What does he see? Fragility? Naive trust? Does he reflect on their inclination to falter when put to the test, their frailties that he has come to know all too well? What concerns lie heavy on Jesus' heart as he watches them sleep?

There is James who, hours ago, sought to secure a status for himself that will never be. And Peter, who for all his bravado hides a little boy inside, often cowering in fear of failure. Sweet John, wanting nothing more than to love and be loved. All three sound asleep, oblivious to the horror the coming hours hold.

Does he feel compelled to warn them, to somehow get through to them before it is too late? The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak. Only a few minutes remain -- how can they possibly understand?

For two long nights they will face the darkness and try to deny that their Messiah has deserted them. The questions, the fears, the endless whys will tear at their budding belief system. Hopelessness could creep into the empty moments and anger plant its bitter seeds. If his own battle to trust his Father is this fierce, how will they ever survive?

Jesus' voice echoes in the dark night with uncharacteristic harshness, like a parent fearing for his or her child's safety. Keep watching and praying that you may not come into temptation; the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.

How he must long to fortify their faith, to invigorate them with determination, to make certain they pray without ceasing through the hours to come. How hard it will be to leave them. The time together is almost gone.

Still they slumber, unaware of the intense emotion he experiences on their behalf. Turning away, he mutters almost to himself, "Go ahead and sleep. . . get your rest . . . you will need it."

What can he do after all he's done? What can he say after all that's been said? In a matter of moments they too will confront head on the grim reality that the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.

Meditate for a few moments on how Jesus felt, knowing what His disciples would be facing. Can you imagine the intensity of his concern? Consider his compassion for them, even in the midst of his own intense personal struggle.

Galatians 5:17 says: For the flesh sets its desire against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh; for these are in opposition to one another, so that you may not do the things that you please. Based on this verse, what battles do you think the disciples will be facing in the ensuing hours?

What struggles do you face even now to follow the Spirit? Is your own flesh weak? Contemplate the reality that Jesus knows your every struggle, especially when your faith falters and you cannot see God's hand. Look at your own life and spiritual journey. Hear Christ saying to you, "Watch and pray." How will you answer?

Lord, in the midst of your own agony, your followers inhabit your heart. How you loved them. How you love me. And how you must grieve at my oblivion to the danger lurking in the shadows of faith. I too need your gentle admonition to watch and pray, in a world that seems void of your touch at times. In the living of life -- moment by moment, day by day -- and when darkness tempts me to forget all you have said and done, let me hear your voice calling: watch and pray.