Even their thick woolen clothing failed to warm them against the dry chill of the night. Why were we doing this? thought one of the men. The four entered the garden. “Sit here while I pray,” said the leader. They were used to seeing him go off to pray. But weren’t there supposed to be limits to everything? Didn’t he understand how cold and weary they were? He had been acting so strange lately. “My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death,” he told them. Stay here and keep watch.” The strange one went deeper into the garden. The other three sat down and yawned. It had been a long day. A warm bed would be better, but at least it was quiet. A stone’s throw away the strange one fell on his face and lay moaning for several minutes before he began to form words on his lips. “Father, you can do all things. Take this cup from me. Perhaps this is only a dream. Perhaps there is another way. Can this ordeal be avoided?” But even as he mumbled the words, he knew they were for naught. There was no other way. Somewhere from within came the strength of raw resolution. He struggled and finally managed to speak the words he knew must be spoken. “Not my will, but yours be done.” Almost immediately, his resolution wavered. But what if my courage desserts me later? What if I flee when the time comes? What if I fail? He felt so alone—so desperately alone. My friends! They have been with me for over three years. They will understand my distress, my agony. They will cry out to my father with me. They will be to me the rock of strength I so desperately need. He rose and returned to where he had left them, only to find them asleep. Momentary hope dissolved into deep desolation. “Could you men not keep watch with me for one hour? Watch and pray that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.” One of the three stirred. “Could we talk about this in the morning?” He turned away and resumed his sleep. Tears wet the cheeks of the strange one. There would be no help from his friends. His steps heavy, he returned to his private place. His heart pounded. His mouth was dry. A chill gripped his bones, but not from the cold. It was futile to consider avoiding the inevitable. It would happen. This he knew. His stomach gnawed. His hands began to shake. How alone he felt—how desperately alone. “My father, if it is not possible for this cup to be taken away unless I drink it, may your will be done.” He felt momentarily better. Obedience was the only way. But then the ever-relentless burden of the cup crushed in again upon him. He found himself panting for breadth, scarcely able to take in air. “Help me! help me!” he cried. “I cannot face this alone!” Inspiration born of desperation came upon him. I will go again to my friends. At least one of them will understand. One of them will arise to help me. But upon returning, he found them still asleep. He jostled each one to no avail. He went away the third time and again fell on His face. And now the burden of the entire world fell upon him, crushing him under its awful weight. He saw himself drinking down the full cup of the sins of all mankind. Every murder, every rape, every theft, every lie, every blasphemy, every vile and profane deed ever done or thought by every human who ever lived would become his—as if he had committed them! And then came the most unimaginably terrible part of his vision. He saw his father. Together with the spirit, they had existed from eternity. Together, they had taken counsel in the creation of all things. Their fellowship had always been a heavenly bond of intimacy. But now, with the sins of the world upon him, he saw his father turn away and vanish from his sight. His body began to convulse violently in revulsion. Sweat exploded through his pores and ran red from his brow onto the ground. “Your will be done, your will be done,” he cried over and over, until he could no longer draw breath. He felt a hand upon his shoulder. From the warm and firm, but gentle grip strength flowed into his being. His breathing calmed. The violent convulsions waned. He peered upward and beheld an angel. “This strength from the father will sustain you through the coming ordeal. Your pain will be no less, but your strength will be greater. Now think no more of the pain, but of the joy set before you. By your act of obedience, heaven will one day be filled with the sons and daughters of men. Even those who spurn your salvation will ultimately admit your lordship. You will know death, but the father will raise you again to life, never to die again. As for those who have failed you now, they will later understand and be mightily used to bring many into the kingdom of God.” The angel departed. He rose the final time. With steps not light, but resolute, he went forth to keep his date with the cross.