Fell to the Ground

When I was growing up,
we had beautiful art work on our walls.

I remember the picture of Jesus
standing at the door and knocking
and the picture of Jesus
as a boy of about twelve,
and the picture of Jesus
holding the sheep in His arms.

And I remember the picture of Jesus
praying in the garden.

I looked up that picture on-line.
The artist portrayed Jesus as kneeling
with His elbows
on a rock, tranquil face lifted up
to His loving Father in Heaven.

I read four little words in Mark today
that I never saw before.
He was giving the account of what
happened in the Garden of Gethsemane.

Jesus asked His disciples to sit at a specific
spot, and then He took Peter, James, and John
with Him and they went in further.

He began to be troubled and deeply distressed.
"My soul is exceedingly sorrowful, even to death.
Stay here and watch."
We know that they were unable to stay awake.

Then Jesus went in a bit farther,
and He 'fell to the ground.'

He didn't kneel serenely by a rock to pray.
He fell to the ground.

"If there's another way, Oh my Father,
take this cup from Me!
If there's another way besides
this narrow way, please reveal it now!

Nevertheless, not my will, but Yours be done."


Jesus,
face down in the dirt,
His dark locks damp from midnight dew,
robe stained with grass and bloody sweat,
moaning, groaning, weeping,
writhing with torment,
wiping His face on the folds of His garment,
trembling with horror and dread.

Retching Wretchedness.
Lonely Loneliness.
Agonizing Agony.

So utterly human.
So utterly God.

I wish I could have been there with You, Jesus.

I wish I could have been there with You-
groaning in sympathy,
holding your hand,
wiping your tears.
Watching, for God knows what.

Would I have been Your friend in the garden
if I could have been Your friend in the garden?