Passion Thursday

Father,

On Thursday your heart began to break. You and your Son knew what was coming. You knew what lay in the hours ahead. You knew. And Jesus moved through the hours anyway. He had set his face. For You. For us.

There are many events and details about the Thursday of Holy Week that stand out to me. Judas’ betrayal. The squabbling of your inner twelve of who was the greatest. The bending of your Son to wash the men’s feet—the lowliest of servant’s job. The youngest servant in the house, or the one who had been in residence the shortest amount of years—this task fell to them.

Yet your Son stooped, bent and curved his body close to the floor and took their crusted, broken heels in his hands (hands that would later clench under the driving of the nails) and poured water and watched the eddies of dirt swim in the earthen bowl.

This moves me. Humbles me, Father.

But, there is another scene from this Thursday night that haunts me.

In the garden under the olive trees—bent and gnarled—your Son asked three of his closest friends to pray. To tarry with him in prayer. To beseech you on his behalf and on theirs. He asks them to pray.

Keep watch with me.

He moves a stone’s throw away. That detail catches my attention. Jesus removed himself so that they might not see his anguish up close. Removed himself that they might not see the sweaty blood that seeped and slid down his forehead. Matthew even tells us he fell with his face to the ground.

Can’t you pray just one hour for me?  This question of Jesus’ in the shadow of the olive press breaks my heart. Breaks my heart.

Jesus doesn’t just ask for prayer for himself. He tells them to pray for him and them. He knows the battles that await them only a short time away. He knows what awaits him.

Three times Jesus returned to these inner three.

Three times Jesus returned and requested them to pray with him.

But they did not. They slept.

Even today, Father, I hear Jesus ask this of me.

Tamera, would you keep watch with me?

Father, how often do your people come to us and ask us to pray for them? To pray with them. To tarry five minutes in prayer for them. To keep watch with them.

And we say we will. But we do not. We sleep.

Just like Peter, James and John we have good intentions. But we grow weary and fatigued and forgetful.

How often do we say we will pray and walk away?

Father, I ask you would help us to pray. Fortify us to tarry for a while and pray. Please help us not to fall asleep. Help us not to grow weary. Keep us awake.

Please, Father, help us to keep watch.

Help us not to fall asleep.  

In the precious name of Jesus.

Amen