BARBARANNE KELLY | CONTRIBUTOR

“Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven . . . “

We pray this every Sunday morning, standing among the assembled saints. Heads bowed, holding hands, we pray for the Lord’s will. Some may pray it by rote, invoking the Name and the petitions in the same manner as every week, mind wandering. There may be some for whom the words are new, and they follow along in the bulletin. For many, there may be something particular in mind as they plead for God’s holy will to be done in their lives, praying with urgency, heavy hearts, even fear.

Have any saints prayed these words with the urgency felt by our Lord on the night before his crucifixion?

“My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as you will” (Matt. 26:39).

Our Lord knew what was coming. He’d been born for this purpose: to save his people from their sins (Matt. 1:21). From the beginning of his ministry, he marched toward the cross with undaunted resolve. When Satan offered him all the kingdoms of the world without the cross, Jesus rebuked him in the strongest terms (Matt. 4:10). And when Peter tried to dissuade him from his mission, Jesus rounded on him with the same strong rebuke: “Get behind me, Satan! . . . you are not setting your mind on the things of God, but on the things of man” (Matt. 16:23).

As he prayed in the garden on the night of his arrest, Jesus knew the horror he was to face at the cross, but it wasn’t only the physical torture. After all, scores of his followers in the years to come would be martyred with songs of joy upon their lips as hurled stones crushed their bodies, lions tore them to pieces, and flames consumed their flesh. No, the horror our Lord anticipated was no mere physical pain, but the spiritual torment of receiving the fullness of God’s wrath.

Through the prophets of old, Jesus spoke by the Holy Spirit, foretelling the horror of the cross. We’re familiar with Isaiah 53, which describes our Lord as the Suffering Servant, being stricken, smitten, pierced, crushed, chastised, cut off, put to grief, and pouring his soul out to death—for us—bearing our griefs, transgressions, iniquities, and sins. This is as accurate a picture as any that an enlightened observer at Golgotha may have painted. But it’s a picture painted in the third person, one seen only from the outside.

In Psalm 88 we’re given a more intimate view. Through the words of the psalmist, we feel the interior anguish of our Lord:

. . . my soul is full of troubles,
and my life draws near to Sheol.
I am counted among those who go down to the pit;
I am a man who has no strength,
like one set loose among the dead,
like the slain that lie in the grave,
like those whom you remember no more,
for they are cut off from your hand.
You have put me in the depths of the pit,
in the regions dark and deep.
Your wrath lies heavy upon me,
and you overwhelm me with all your waves. . . .

O Lord, why do you cast my soul away?
Why do you hide your face from me?
Afflicted and close to death from my youth up,
I suffer your terrors; I am helpless.
Your wrath has swept over me;
your dreadful assaults destroy me.
They surround me like a flood all day long;
they close in on me together.
You have caused my beloved and my friend to shun me;
my companions have become darkness.  (Psalm 88: 3–7, 14–18)

This is the horror from which our Lord recoiled as he prayed in Gethsemane—falling down on his face, begging his Father that there might be another way. He was so earnest in his prayer that Luke tells us his sweat became as drops of blood. And yet, as he desperately prayed for the Father’s will, never once in recoiling from the cross did he step over the line into disobedience and sin.

Peter tells us that Jesus endured the suffering of the cross by “entrusting himself to him who judges justly” (1 Pet. 2:23). Surely, as he prayed, looking forward to the wrath to come sweeping over him like a flood, he remembered the steadfast faithfulness of his Father. As an innocent man, dying for the sins of his people, Jesus trusted that his Father, the righteous Judge, would vindicate him by raising him on the third day, as he’d repeatedly told his disciples. Did the rallying cry of the psalmist who entrusted his vindication to the God in whom he took refuge stir in the breast of our Savior as he prayed on that dark night?

Why are you cast down, O my soul,
    and why are you in turmoil within me?
Hope in God; for I shall again praise him,
    my salvation and my God.  (Psalm 43:5)

The author of Hebrews tells us that Jesus endured the cross for the joy set before him—a joy that looked past the impending horror to the Father whose loving fellowship he’d enjoyed for all eternity, and would again enjoy, seated at his right hand (Heb. 12:2). That trust which began in eternity past was strengthened in the garden as twice he prayed with new resolve:

“My Father, if this cannot pass unless I drink it, your will be done” (Matt. 26:42).

And so he did. And so it was.

Praise be to God the Father Almighty, and to his Son our Savior. May your kingdom come, and your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.

Photo by Emre on Unsplash