
Matthew 26:40-41 “Then he returned to his disciples and found them sleeping. ‘Could you men not keep watch with me for one hour?’ he asked Peter. ‘Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.’ ”
Was it so much to ask, to sacrifice just a little sleep for the love of the Savior who was about to suffer what no other person ever has, who was about to bring all history to its climax and save a fallen world? Jesus had been teaching them for three years. He had spoken to them for hours this very night about the things that were about to happen. Did they still have no sense of the importance of the night or of the sacrifice it would require of him? Did they have no sense of their friend and Master’s burden? Keep watch for Jesus? They needed to watch for themselves and their own weakness. Their loveless slide into tempting sleep only made Jesus’ heavy load heavier, his sorrow deeper, his prayer more difficult.
What is our great temptation regarding Jesus, his suffering, and his sacrifice? Is it not our own failure to appreciate the magnitude of what he did, our own neglect of the centerpiece of his saving love? We don’t fall asleep, at least not usually. It’s worse. Jesus’ suffering and death bore us. We get all excited about a bunch of grown men chasing a ball around a field or across a court. Our heart rate soars, we scream, we cheer. We will watch for hours and hours.
Our attention is riveted to the news when people are senselessly or tragically killed in the latest crime or catastrophe. The news anchors can give the same five-minutes worth of details hour after hour, and yet it’s hard to pull away from the TV. Perversions of God’s good gifts of sex and beauty are like magnets that would pull our eyes right out of their sockets if they weren’t attached.
But when the eternal God makes himself a mortal man, and he stands in our place, and he lets himself be abused by the very people he came to save, and he submits himself to outrageous indignity and injustice, and for me he lets himself be nailed to a cross, and for me the blood pours from his body, and for me he endures wages of my sin, and for me he breathes his last, we yawn. It’s an old story. It’s a familiar story. “Tell me something new, something upbeat with a little more action.” No, watch your Savior. Watch him all the way to the cross and death that saves you.
Then pray, like he does, for the Father’s will to be done. “My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will.”
“May your will be done.” Jesus prayer for his Father’s will makes it a true prayer, a prayer prayed in faith. This is not an attempt to push God off his throne. It’s not an attempt to change the changeless God. Jesus will not an attempt to dictate terms to the Almighty. He asks, and he submits. True prayer trusts God’s will, and accepts that God’s will is better than my own even though it may mean pain, discomfort, disappointment and apparent defeat.
Jesus so embraced his Father’s will earlier in his ministry when he accepted 40 days without food in the wilderness, and did nothing to change that until God’s angels came and attended him. Paul embraced the Father’s will in his parting words to the Ephesian elders, “I only know that in every city the Holy Spirit warns me that prison and hardships are facing me. However, I consider my life worth nothing to me, if only I may finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me.”
There are worse things than suffering. God often does his best work through suffering. We might be so bold as to say, he usually does his best work through suffering. “We also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope,” Paul wrote the Romans. Jesus’ suffering was the salvation of the world. The things we suffer often serve the salvation of our own souls. “May your will be done.”







