So is this what the garden felt like?

And [Jesus] said to [his disciples], “My soul is very sorrowful, even to death. Remain here and watch.” And going a little farther, he fell on the ground and prayed that, if it were possible, the hour might pass from him. And he said, “Abba, Father, all things are possible for you. Remove this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what you will.”

(Mark 14:34-36)

I cannot empathize with a king. I have no idea what it's like to be glorious and majestic, seated on a throne. I cannot imagine being the Eternal King of heaven and giving up Your glory, Your throne, Your God-ness to come down to earth and die.

I cannot empathize with a homeless man. I always have food and a home and clean clothes to wear. I cannot imagine being the Eternal King come down to be born in a cow trough, homeless, hated by most, pursued unto death, especially death on a cross.

From my vantage point, I could not help or counsel or even sympathize with Jesus as He cried and prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane. Yet, the opposite is true. Because Jesus suffered tremendously before going to His death, He empathizes with me.

Tonight will be spent at the hospital. They'll give me a cervical softener every four hours while we wait. Our hope is that it will cause my body to begin labor on its own, so that no induction is needed. Otherwise, they'll induce me early Thursday morning.

I'm afraid of the drugs and the hospital atmosphere and the pressure to "speed things up." I'm afraid of the pain and being unable to bear it, since Pitocin is brutal. I'm afraid of possibly having a C-section.

I'm sad because I wanted to labor at home for a while. I wanted Caleb to come on his own and not be "forced" out. However, I have to trust the midwife. (It's Vicki, and I don't really even know her.) I'm sad to leave the puppies here alone all night. I'm sad that this just isn't turning out like I planned.

So I go to Jesus. He wept and prayed and wept and prayed that He wouldn't have to go to the cross. "And going a little farther he fell on his face and prayed, saying, 'My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as you will.'"

He was terrified. Of the excruciating pain? Of the humiliation? Of the unknown? All of it? He was sad. Because so many people would still reject salvation? Because Judas had to fulfill the OT scriptures? I don't know these answers. I only know that he was afraid and hurting.

My God can empathize with me. "For it was fitting that he, for whom and by whom all things exist, in bringing many sons to glory, should make the founder of their salvation perfect through suffering. For he who sanctifies and those who are sanctified all have one source. That is why he is not ashamed to call them brothers..." (Hebrews 2:10-11)

He left all His eternal glory to know exactly what it's like to be human. He empathizes with me in my fear and doubt and uncertainty. Yet, He shows me how to be afraid and unsure without sinning. "Not as I will, but as you will."

Lord, these next few days may be a cross for me to bear. They may be everything I fear or not. (Jesus knew He had to fulfill God's written will. Nothing's written about my labor and delivery. All may turn out differently.) So Father in heaven, I pray with Jesus, "My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as you will." I can look to the (hoped but not promised) prize on the other side of this--a little baby boy, and endure the pain. Lord, give me sufficient grace. Remind me in the morning that your mercies are new every day. I love you and will walk with you through anything. In Jesus' holy and empathetic Name, Amen.

"...let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God." (Hebrews 12:1b-2)