In the Garden

The next day John saw Jesus coming toward him and said, “Look, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!” John 1:29

Still is the garden as darkness approaches.  The Lamb pure… all-knowing… all-powerful… all-willing… He comes alone.

My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death.  Stay here and keep watch with me.”  Matthew 6:38

Tears spill quiet as morning comes… streaking these cheeks stained with life… for the One unstained and sacrificed.

Why? Why could I not have been there with my Lord in the garden?  Keeping watch? Holding His hand? Kneeling beside? Drinking every word for the thirst which would yet come?  How I long to have been one of His chosen, discipled by His footsteps!  Oh, to have been in the garden!

Gentle come the words of one who knows… whose soul heaves with mine.  “You were.  You were there with Him in the garden.”  My heart clay fragile breaks anew of grace.

I was there.

Not as one to keep watch as my Master petitioned the Father.  Not as Mary, to annoint His feet… humble offering poured upon His skin.  Not as John, beloved one, entrusted with Mary’s care, broken in the shadow of her Son who drew first breaths deep cradled upon her breast, now drawing last life breath shallow.  Not as Simon of Cyrene to bear up under boards coarse as knees buckling tumble upon earth barren.  Not even as Joseph of Arimathea, gifting tomb hollow and cold.

No… I was the burden greater than the cross upon His back aching.  I was the weight of the world upon His chest… even to death.

I was there.

Jesus… forgive this broken heart of clay shattered before You.

I was there.

His whisper comes tender upon brokenness… “Child, yes, I am the Lamb… I am also the Shepherd.  Were you the only soul lost and seeking… I would have saved you.  You child, would have been enough.”

I am the Good Shepherd; I know my sheep and my sheep know Me — just as my Father knows Me and I know the Father— and I lay down my life for the Sheep. John 10: 14-15

Sun’s rays stream warm.  With light there is hope… grace… faithfulness… love eternal and unfailing.  For though He laid His life as a sacrifice for every heart that ever swelled beat…

HE ROSE!

This morning He found me alone, heavy-hearted… realizing my place in the garden… crying out as if one waiting at the tomb.  Triumphant over every sin ever committed by every soul travelling this earth hard…

Woman, why are you crying? Do not hold on to me, for I have not yet returned to the Father.  Go instead to my brothers and tell them, ‘I am returning to my Father and your Father, to my God and Your God.’ John 20:15 and 17

Because I was there… because you were there… He died… and rose again.

Let us leave the garden behind.  Let us leave the tomb behind.  And spill love to a world still searching…

He is risen!

He is risen, indeed!