Agony in the Garden
The ivory orb lit up the quiet garden,
In the place where the young man prayed.
He prayed for His mother and father
And all the friends He had made.
He remembered the wedding party
With all the fun they had had,
And when the last wine was served,
Their response was: “Not bad!”
He reflected on the Twelve he chose
To continue after He was gone.
Despite their frailties and insecurities
He was confident they could carry on.
Then He raised His eyes to heaven,
To pray for the lost soul of the one
Who would greedily betray Him
Before this night was done.
So many towns and so many people,
So much they had been taught –
How to cure the sick and lame,
What to do with the men they had ‘caught.’
He didn’t want to leave them yet,
He felt He had only just begun
To reach their doubting minds,
That the Messiah had finally come.
He remembered His miracles,
All the believers He had reached –
Simon Peter’s mother-in-law,
The ten lepers in desperate need,
Feeding the five thousand,
Healing the blind and the lame.
Rich and poor He healed them all,
In His eyes they were all the same.
His fingers intertwined,
Strong hands clasped in prayer
“Father have you forgotten me?
Father, are you still there?
Isn’t there surely another way
To save these Earthly souls?
Another way to accomplish Your work
And reach Your divine goals?”
He prayed like this for hours,
Sweat dripping from His brow
Tension in His muscles released
As He knelt upon the hard ground.
He gazed once more to the heavens
Aware of each bright shining star.
He felt His Father close to Him,
Knew His Father was never far.
“Father, I accept Your will
And accept My human fate.
Send Your servant for me now
Before the hour grows too late.”
As He rose slowly to His sandaled feet
He heard voices drawing near.
Didn’t hesitate to answer when Judas called,
“Teacher, Rabbi, are You here?”
As He was led away by them
He was chilled by a deadly sound –
Silver pieces changing hands,
His doomed fate was sealed now.
We must pray each day for strength
To accept God’s holy plan
And put our agonies of life’s garden
Into our Lord’s loving hands.
Brenda Kay Farber