Matthew 26

The Last Supper. The garden. The arrest.

Jesus knew what was coming. He said so at the table: one of you will betray me. He took the bread and broke it and said: this is my body. He took the cup and said: this is my blood of the covenant, poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins.

And then Gethsemane. He took Peter, James, and John. He told them: my soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death. Stay here and keep watch with me.

He went a little further. He fell on His face. And He prayed: if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me.

That prayer. The Son of God, face down in the dirt, asking if there’s another way. Three times He prayed. Three times He came back and found the disciples asleep.

He wasn’t performing anguish. This was real. The weight of what was coming was real. And He prayed through it to the same place every time: not as I will, but as you will.

I’ve prayed through things I didn’t want. Not on this scale. But the movement from asking for the cup to be removed to submitting to the Father’s will is one I’ve had to make. And it’s rarely clean. It’s usually a process.