Then he withdrew from them about a stone’s throw, knelt down, and began to pray, “Father, if you are willing, take this cup away from me—nevertheless, not my will, but yours, be done.” Then an angel from heaven appeared to him, strengthening him. Being in anguish, he prayed more fervently, and his sweat became like drops of blood falling to the ground. [Luke 22:41-44 (CSB)]
I am never afraid of exaggeration, when I speak of what my Lord endured. All hell was distilled into that cup, of which our God and Savior Jesus Christ was made to drink. [Charles Spurgeon]
Although the common position for prayer was standing, Jesus fell to His knees that night in the garden of Gethsemane. Luke describes Him as praying so intensely that His sweat dropped like blood. Having used the word hósei, meaning “as if it were, like, as, as though, or much like,” Luke may have meant Jesus sweat so profusely that it dripped from Him like blood. Nevertheless, Luke was a doctor who paid great attention to detail; he may have described hematidrosis, a rare medical condition in which the capillaries rupture causing blood to seep into the sweat glands and then out onto the skin. It’s caused by high blood pressure, a bleeding disorder, or extreme distress or fear, such as facing abuse, torture or death on the cross! Whether Jesus’ sweat poured off his body as if it were blood or He literally sweat blood, the Lord’s prayer was so intense that an angel came and strengthened Him.
In Jesus’ prayer that Thursday night, we clearly see His two natures—that He was both fully human and fully divine. While the divine and human natures were united in Jesus, the two wills were not. As fully God, Jesus was in sync with His Father’s plan and walked willing to the cross to suffer and die, to bear our sins, and to redeem us from the gates of hell. On the other hand, Jesus also had a man’s will—a will like ours—one that could be tempted—a will that freely chooses whether or not to walk in obedience to God. We can be sure that Satan was attacking Jesus with false promises, doubt, and fear that night.
By beginning His prayer with, “Father, if you are willing,” Jesus acknowledged both His Father’s right to determine the answer to His prayer and His power to do so. Jesus then asked, “take this cup away from me.” The cup He wanted taken away was the horror that lay ahead for Him—not just suffering on the cross, but death itself. Fully man, Jesus must have trembled at what being the sacrificial lamb who bore the sins of the world would entail. As this fully human man grappled with being obedient to God’s horrific plan of torture and death, Jesus may have sweat real blood.
When Satan tempted another sinless man in another garden long ago, Adam said, “My will be done,” and sin entered the world. In Gethsemane, Satan tempted the second sinless man to say the same thing. Had the enemy been successful, the lamb of God would not have taken away the sins of the world. But, instead of saying “My will be done,” Jesus prayed these beautiful words: “Not my will, but yours, be done.” Like any man, Jesus would have preferred avoiding the physical, emotional, and spiritual agony awaiting Him; nevertheless, His words were ones of complete and unqualified submission to God’s will. Could we have done the same? Thank you, Jesus!
Fowlers are professional bird catchers. In ancient Israel, they supplied the market with wild pigeons and doves destined for sacrifice, small birds (like quail) for food, and doves and other birds for caged pets. Since most of us get our poultry at the grocery, we’re probably unfamiliar with the fowler and his methods. To capture birds, fowlers spread nets or set traps and snares on the ground, camouflage them with natural materials, and cover them with grain. Tempted by the food, the birds leave the safety of the sky and come down to the ground where they are caught.
Over a period of 3,000 years, ancient Egypt’s pantheon of gods numbered between 1,400 and 2,000. During that time, some faded in prominence and new gods appeared. Often depicted as part human and part animal, Egypt’s gods had names, unique back-stories, and their own domain and expertise. Each god/goddess was responsible for a certain part of daily life, from motherhood to music, record keeping to funerals, and cosmic order to hunting. While the ten plagues God sent Egypt through Moses and Aaron may seem somewhat arbitrary to us in the 21st century, every one of them was a direct attack on one or more Egyptian god. They were the ultimate “smack-down” between God Almighty and Egypt’s deities.
We’re two weeks into the season of Lent. While we typically associate this time before Easter with giving up something, it is more than simply abstaining or fasting from some thing or things. Fasting without prayer is nothing more than a diet and abstaining from some pleasure without prayer is more like dry January than a Lenten discipline! Without prayer, fasting and abstinence are physical acts but not spiritual ones! When we give up something for Lent, we need to deliberately and intentionally seek the Lord in prayer at the same time!
In 1986, holocaust survivor and Nobel Laureate Elie Wiesel said, “The opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference.” That thought, however, has a longer history. In 1897, in George Bernard Shaw’s The Devil’s Disciple, these words were spoken: “The worst sin towards our fellow creatures is not to hate them, but to be indifferent to them: that’s the essence of inhumanity.” The evil of indifference can be found as far back as 474 BC (during Judah’s exile) in the story of Esther and as recently as today’s news.
Once upon a time, a little boy was busy digging in the sand at the beach. Like other youngsters through the years, he thought he even might be able to dig all the way to China. His steadfast excavations got so deep that he encountered a large rock. With great determination, he dug and dug with his plastic shovel in an attempt to free it from the ground. Unfortunately, the little boy and his small shovel were no match for the rock. When the shovel broke in two, the boy let out a howl and burst into tears. Hearing the child’s cries, his father immediately went to comfort him. Through his sobs, the boy told how he’d tried and tried to free the rock but was too weak, his arm was too short, and he’d broken his only shovel. His father gently asked why he hadn’t used all of his strength. “But I did, Daddy, I really did!” exclaimed the boy. “No, son, you didn’t,” explained the man as he reached into the hole, grabbed the rock with his large hands, and pulled it from the ground. “You should have called me!”
Devotions of the Heart 