You, me, and Gethsemane
One for All.
“But how then shall the scriptures be fulfilled, that thus it must be?” Matt. 26:54
Let me tell you about two of my friends, Laura and Sara (not their real names.) Laura died in 2021 and Sara in 2023.
For many years, it was my privilege to visit regularly with each of them in their homes. Over time they came to trust me and share their struggles, sorrows, and regrets.
When Laura passed away she had been a widow for almost 40 years. Her husband had died many years before in a tragic plane crash, leaving her to raise three young children. She never remarried. For most of her life she suffered from many chronic health problems, including obesity. She spent the last years of her life alone, living in a small trailer park. When I would visit, she always wanted to know about my family, my job, and other things she knew about me from our many visits. If I attempted to redirect those conversations and get her to share her needs, she was usually reluctant to do so.
I first met Sara when I was a young boy. She was one of my teachers in a church class I attended. I am confident I was one of her biggest challenges. But behind my rambunctious spirit was a child not very sure of himself. Somehow Sara sensed this and found every opportunity to praise me and express her confidence in me. I still have a memory of her buying me and some of my friends several large donuts for my birthday and taking us to see a movie. I don’t remember other teachers doing something like this for me (although no doubt they did.) Many years later I was asked to visit with her and do what I could to help her. Life had not been kind to Sara. She had divorced an abusive husband. One of her two sons was in prison. Her health challenges were many, including clinical depression.
On many occasions I would discover that she had been cutting herself on both arms with a razor blade. Each arm was deeply scarred and fresh cuts were layered on top of those scars. More than once she attempted to take her own life. Her physical and emotional suffering was beyond what I could imagine or understand. I gave her many priesthood blessings and each time, felt impressed to tell her how beloved she was, how much her Father in Heaven and Savior cared for her, and that they were sending angels to help and comfort her. When she died she did so holding the hand of her youngest son. He said she was at last at peace.
“The pore is the opening through which a hair exits the surface of the skin. Pores can be found on every inch of skin, except for the palms of your hands and the soles of your feet. In fact, the adult has an average of 5 million pores on their body, with about 20,000 of those on the face.”
I have entered that garden in my mind more times than I can count. Usually it is dark, the sky overcast. No stars can be seen. I feel a heaviness in the air - a foreboding. Sometimes He is already there, and other times, I arrive before Him and watch and wait, both wanting Him to come and wishing He didn’t have to - that there was some other way.
And yet, I know but cannot speak the truth: I am the reason He will kneel there in the dark. I am the reason blood will come from every pore. I am why His hands and feet and side will be pierced.
I cannot watch. I cannot turn away.
What was Jesus feeling as he made his way from the upper room to Gethsemane? What were his thoughts like?
As he walked through the Cedron valley, “the valley of the shadow of death,” lined on each side with tombs, did his thoughts go to the tomb his lifeless body soon would occupy?
Did he know about the nails - spikes really - and imagine what each one would feel like as they pierced his delicate, innocent hands and wrists? Did he look at each hand and tremble?
What did he know? All of it? The scourging, the crown of thorns, the buffeting and mockery and spit smeared in vicious, unchecked fury across his solemn, gentle face?
It is both wonderful and terrible to think that he understood and knew in every detail what he was about to experience…and kept walking toward it.
And the world, because of their iniquity, shall judge him to be a thing of naught; wherefore they scourge him, and he suffereth it; and they smite him, and he suffereth it. Yea, they spit upon him, and he suffereth it, because of his loving kindness and his long-suffering towards the children of men.
1 Nephi 19:9
One night I dreamed … that I was in the Garden of Gethsemane, a witness of the Savior’s agony. … I stood behind a tree in the foreground. … Jesus, with Peter, James, and John, came through a little wicket gate at my right. Leaving the three Apostles there, after telling them to kneel and pray, He passed over to the other side, where He also knelt and prayed … : ‘Oh my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless not as I will but as Thou wilt.’
As He prayed the tears streamed down His face, which was [turned] toward me. I was so moved at the sight that I wept also, out of pure sympathy with His great sorrow. My whole heart went out to Him. I loved Him with all my soul and longed to be with Him as I longed for nothing else.
Presently He arose and walked to where those Apostles were kneeling—fast asleep! He shook them gently, awoke them, and in a tone of tender reproach, untinctured by the least show of anger or scolding, asked them if they could not watch with Him one hour. …
Returning to His place, He prayed again and then went back and found them again sleeping. Again He awoke them, admonished them, and returned and prayed as before. Three times this happened, until I was perfectly familiar with His appearance—face, form, and movements. He was of noble stature and of majestic mien … the very God that He was and is, yet as meek and lowly as a little child.
In my many visits to Laura and Sara, I wanted to believe I was being helpful. They seemed grateful and often shared how much they appreciated me taking the time to be with them. But part of me felt so far from helpful. Their chronic pain, their unending longing for companionship, their unanswered and unanswerable questions about why life was so unfair, why in spite of living what they believed were God’s teachings, joy seemed so beyond their reach. They were so crushingly lonely, and I had nothing that could take that away.
I could not know their hurt. Nothing I could ever do or say could be enough.
Jesus climbed the hill to the garden still.
His steps were heavy and slow.
Love and a prayer took Him there
To the place only He could go.
Gethsemane. Jesus loves me,
So He went willingly to Gethsemane.
He felt all that was sad, wicked, or bad,
All the pain we would ever know.
While His friends were asleep, He fought to keep
His promise made long ago.
Gethsemane. Jesus loves me,
So He went willingly to Gethsemane.
The hardest thing that ever was done,
The greatest pain that ever was known,
The biggest battle that ever was won—
This was done by Jesus!
The fight was won by Jesus!
Gethsemane. Jesus loves me,
So He gave His gift to me in Gethsemane.
Gethsemane. Jesus loves me,
So He gives His gift to me from Gethsemane.
Each time I forget, I must return and find Him there. Each time I am less, each time my thoughts are unkind, unclean, cutting - I once again must enter Gethsemane, searching for Him, ashamed once again by my need for what He suffered.
He descended below my descent. He knows to the full every pain, every sorrow, every act of violence that ever has or will be ever be experienced. He knew all of Laura’s loneliness, the agony Sara suffered, whether self-inflicted or not. He WAS enough and more for each of them.
You, me, and Gethsemane.
One for all.
Look unto me in every thought; doubt not, fear not.
Behold the wounds which pierced my side, and also the prints of the nails in my hands and feet.
Doctrine & Covenants 6:36-37
I found myself one evening in the dreams of the night in that sacred building, the temple. After a season of prayer and rejoicing I was informed that I should have the privilege of entering into one of those rooms, to meet a glorious Personage, and, as I entered the door, I saw, seated on a raised platform, the most glorious Being my eyes have ever beheld or that I ever conceived existed in all the eternal words. As I approached to be introduced, he arose and stepped towards me with extended arms, and he smiled as he softly spoke my name.
If I shall live to be a million years old, I shall never forget that smile. He took me into his arms and kissed me, pressed me to his bosom, and blessed me, until the marrow of my bones seemed to melt! When he had finished, I fell at his feet, and, as I bathed them with my tears and kisses, I saw the prints of the nails in the feet of the Redeemer of the world. The feeling that I had in the presence of him who hath all things in his hands, to have his love, his affection, and his blessing was such that if I ever can receive that of which I had but a foretaste, I would give all that I am, all that I ever hope to be, to feel what I then felt!
Scott- This is such a beautiful message. Once again, your words have come at a time when I needed them…filling me with peace and comfort. Thank you.
-Kris
What a wonderful message and song to end this beautiful day with. Thanks Scott. Love to you and your family. Barbara