Matthew 26:36–56

Perhaps nowhere in the whole sad record of our Lord's suffering do we find more tender displays of His devotion to His Father than in Gethsemane. It has a character all its own. It is different from the "horror of great darkness" of the cross, which comes after it, and it is clearly marked off from what had gone before. It stands out as the "oil press," which is what its name means. There a love and obedience that nothing could turn aside gives out its sweet ointment, with a fragrance all its own — a sweet perfume and holy anointing oil fit to adorn His head alone.

The name Gethsemane is formed from the Hebrew words meaning "a winepress" and "oil." But it gives no real ground to say that here in a special way those dark words were fulfilled, "I have trodden the winepress alone." For the treading of the winepress is when the Lord comes to judge, not to suffer. These prophecies describe not agony but vengeance.

But He is going forward with full knowledge of everything, on His own part. Note what we are told here: Judas knew the place as one the Lord often went to with His disciples. He is not avoiding but now seeking the "oil-press" of sorrow. Eternal joy is to be the sure result.

He takes all the disciples with Him to Gethsemane. Then He tells them to stay there while He goes on further and prays. He takes Peter, James, and John, who had also been with Him on the mount of transfiguration... There everything that lay ahead of the blessed One came upon His spirit. He began to be sorrowful and very heavy. He felt as man what He had to undergo. It was not mere pain or suffering: the power of death weighed upon His spirit. It weighed upon it as man, yet with a weight no man could fathom.

Gethsemane was at the bottom of the Mount of Olives. Here indeed we are on holy ground! ... He was coming to that time, marked out from all eternity, when God would take up sin and judge it. We see what was before His soul. Only on the cross were sins laid upon Him, and there He was made sin who knew no sin. But in spirit He went through it here with His Father... He said, "Remain here, and watch with me." He never said, "Pray for Me." We must weigh the silences of Scripture. But He values their sympathy.

But now it was different, and He says to them: "Sit here, while I go over there and pray." Who can tell what that "over there" meant to Him? He was about to enter the great conflict, and He "looked for comforters." Peter and the sons of Zebedee entered more fully into His thoughts than the other disciples, so He takes them with Him.

He says to the disciples, "Pray that you may not enter into temptation." And again, "Sit here, while I go over there and pray." When He comes back He finds them sleeping. When they should have been praying, they were sleeping. How much do I pray? How much do you pray? Prayer is the secret of the soul's success... They see His sorrow, and yet they can sleep.

Our only safe place is watching and prayer — yes, prayer before the assault — prayer that may amount to agony; for that is how Jesus prayed!

The word ademonein is a deeply moving word. On one likely derivation it means the homeless feeling of someone away from his own country and friends... In the Gospels this word carries a unique intensity of meaning: "Look and see if there is any sorrow like My sorrow."

He began to be sorrowful and troubled. He felt as a man what He had to go through. It was not mere pain or suffering. The power of death weighed on His spirit — weighed on it as man, yet with a weight no man could fathom. Yet with what calm simplicity He tells it out!

Think what lay before Him. All that God or man could put into the cup of woe, He was about to drink, and He foresaw it... How He felt everything — the betrayal of Judas — the coming denial of Peter — the forsaking of all the disciples... the bearing of sin — the forsaking of God — wrath, judgment, and death as the end of His pathway here.

In Gethsemane, He was anticipating the cross; at Calvary, He was actually enduring it. In Gethsemane, "there appeared an angel to him from heaven strengthening him"; at Calvary, He was forsaken of all. There was no angelic ministry there. In Gethsemane He addresses God as "Father," and so enjoys the full communion of that relationship. But at Calvary He cries, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"

From these verses it is clear that something lay ahead which the blessed Lord had never met before. A "cup" was being filled for Him which He had not yet drunk. If He had been a sin-bearer all His life, why this intense agony at the thought of coming into contact with sin and enduring the wrath of God because of sin?

He goes apart to pray, but He takes three of His disciples with Him. In this solemn moment they are to watch with Him. They were the same three who were with Him at the transfiguration. They were to see His glory in the kingdom, and His sufferings... Jesus was not yet drinking the cup, but it was before His eyes.

Beyond all others He underwent the pressure of death on His soul beforehand, as the power of Satan — feeling it perfectly, and all the more deeply because He took it from His Father's hand and not from the enemy's... When the cross came, there was no such call to disciples to watch with Him. He was alone — utterly alone, alone by the very nature of the case — for us, that is, for our sins, with no one, human or angelic, anywhere near Him.

These three He had taken with Him to the mount of transfiguration, and they went to sleep in the presence of His glory. Now He takes them into the garden, and they go to sleep in the presence of His sorrow. Such is man. Such is human nature. Such are you and I. We can be alike indifferent to the glory and the sorrow of Christ.

It speaks of His body, Matthew 26:12; Luke 23:52; John 20:12; Hebrews 10:5. It speaks of His soul, Matthew 26:38; Mark 14:34; John 12:27; Acts 2:27, 31... All these speak of Him as Man — the Son having become Man. Scripture says the same of us: in the make-up of our manhood we have spirit, soul and body (1 Thessalonians 5:23). It uses the same words of Him as it uses of us.

He takes Peter, James and John, who had also been with Him on the mountain where His glory appeared; and there everything that lay before the blessed One came upon His spirit. He began to be sorrowful and deeply distressed. He felt as man what He had to go through. It was not mere pain or suffering: the power of death weighed on His spirit. It weighed on Him as man, yet with a weight no man could measure. Yet He says it with such calm simplicity! We ought to know it, though it may be beyond our knowledge... His need was there, and He told it to hearts that should have felt it and kept earnest watch, taken up with Him.

What was the difference between Christ in Gethsemane and Christ at Calvary, if He were a sin-bearer all His life? There was a real difference! And it is because He was not a sin-bearer all His life... In Gethsemane, He was anticipating the cross! at Calvary, He was actually enduring it. In Gethsemane, "there appeared to him an angel from heaven, strengthening him"; at Calvary, everyone forsook Him. No angel came to strengthen Him there. In Gethsemane He calls God "Father," and so enjoys the full communion of that relationship; but at Calvary, He cries, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"

The garden shows us not holy calm in the full knowledge of all that awaited Him and His disciples, but anguish to the very limit, and death felt in all its horror as before God... More than anyone else, He went through the pressure of death on His soul before it came — death as the power of Satan. He felt it perfectly, and He felt it more deeply because He took it from His Father's hand and not from the enemy's. When the cross came, there was no such call to disciples to watch with Him. He was alone — utterly alone, alone in the very nature of it, and alone for us, that is, for our sins — with no one, human or angel, near Him in any way at all.

He is God over all, yet still and thoroughly a man. Yet, as another has said, He never asked them to pray for Him; but says, "Remain here, and watch with me."... When He asked His disciples to watch with Him, He knew the world was against Him. He turned to those He had been with most, that they should be with Him. But He received nothing... They were asleep, deceived; asleep in the presence of the glory of the kingdom on the mount, asleep in the garden!

A stone's throw away are the sleeping disciples. But, beloved reader, let us not sleep as others do. Let us watch with Him one hour even now. Let the privacy of our own hearts be the Gethsemane of our souls... There let us look with holy horror at the dreadful cup, full of our sins and God's wrath, which He would drain so soon on Calvary's cross.

He looked into the cup and measured its contents. It was all God's judgment against sin. If He drank it, God must forsake Him and cast Him off on the cross. It was not only the physical suffering and sorrow that man could give Him when they nailed Him to the tree. It was the unavoidable sense that God and He must part company. So as He looked at that cup, He said, "Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me. Nevertheless, not my will, but yours, be done." He knew that if He did not drink that cup of judgment upon the cross, you and I would have to drink it in eternity.

The Lord held the place of the perfect Son of Man. He could not forget what rested on His bearing that name — even the question of guilt. But how was it possible, if He were perfect, for Him to think it an unimportant thing for God to hide His face from Him? He would not have been perfect if He had not shrunk from this one thing alone. He did not shrink from the temptation in the wilderness; God led Him into it. But there was in this what was anguish to His soul in the very measure in which He was perfect.

If God could ever have set aside the smallest part of His righteousness, He would have done it then, when His own beloved Son asked Him. But that was impossible. It would be easier to abandon the law of gravity than for God to move a hair's breadth from His righteousness.

He knew well that He would face the agony of being forsaken by God as He bore the judgment of the cross. So He pleads with His Father, "if it be possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as you will." As a true Man He had a will of His own, a will that was in every respect perfectly right. It was right that He should desire to avoid the dreadful suffering of the cross. Yet He asks for the Father's will, not His own. How this adds to the blessedness of His great sacrifice!

Man and Satan brought about His death, but He knew how to separate what was theirs from the cup He took out of the Father's hand — the cup filled with the judgment of God. Because He was perfect He shrank from that cup, and in subjection He drank it. His request that the cup might pass from Him was perfection. At the cross what marks Him is a perfect calmness under judgment that no human heart can understand. It is an unbroken calmness in a darkness no human eye could see through. There is no agonising there, no weeping. All is fullest submission and perfect subjection, bowing beneath the awful load, bearing it in His own body on the tree.

He accepted the cup of wrath and judgment and emptied it on the cross, so that for us not a drop of judgment remained. Here the Lord was in total solitude: He alone could drink that cup. But in dependence and obedience He is our perfect example in Gethsemane. He faced a test beyond words, and He overcame it through His dependence and obedience. The disciples stand in sharp contrast: they slept in the garden, and all of them failed badly.

When He comes to the disciples He finds them sleeping. Think of it! The Master praying, and the servants sleeping. The Master is in agony before God. He is showing perfect human dependence, in that moment of sorrow beyond compare, while the servant sleeps. Such is human nature. Peter slept in the presence of the Lord's glory, on the Mount of Transfiguration. Now he is sleeping in the presence of His sorrow.

Later, at the cross, the disciples could have no part at all in the sufferings of the Lord Jesus. But here He expects some fellowship from them in watching with Him — and He finds them sleeping. When the need is most urgent, our hearts can still be dull and unfeeling. We are not concerned to enter into the Lord's thoughts. Is one hour too long to spend in sympathy with His sorrow?

He addressed His rebuke, gentle beyond words, to Peter, the one who boasted the loudest. "Watch and pray (for themselves, not for Him) that you may not enter into temptation. The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak." This happened three times. Three times the Saviour went apart and prayed, and three times He came back and found the disciples asleep. In the presence of such a fact, who among us dare boast of anything? How feeble is the devotion of even the truest-hearted believer!

With what touching grace He points out the strange inconsistency: "Peter, could you not watch with Me one hour?" Where was the strength that was going through everything just now? Yet with what grace He warns, with what grace He excuses: "Watch and pray that you may not enter into temptation. The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak."

Now, having been through this agony, He comes back to His disciples and speaks to them in the gentlest way. What gentleness of grace! Now He is thinking only of them. Where is the cup? He had gone through it all with the Father, and therefore His heart is ready in service. Suppose we, in our small measure, carried all our trials and little troubles to God, and went through the whole of it with Him. Then our hearts would be free and happy to turn round and care for others.

Peter fails, not from self-will, not from willing to sin, but through the weakness of the flesh. In Christ there was no possible moral weakness, because He always walked in the place of weakness in communion with His Father. Peter fails, though only the shadow of temptation comes to him. All Peter's fall began by a lack of dependence, and by neglecting prayer. Our watching must lead us to pray. It is not enough to be ready to pray when temptation comes. We must be walking with God, and so meet temptation in the power of communion and prayer already there. Suppose a believer has no continual prayer, and no constant sense of his own complete weakness. Then the more he loves Christ, and the more he wants to serve Him, the more surely that very good-will will lead him into the place where he dishonours Christ!

He wants your worship, your fellowship in His sufferings. "Could you not watch with Me one hour?" the Lord said to Peter in Gethsemane. Shall we grow tired of being together to think of Him? There is silence, and a chance for deep thought on the holy theme of the Lord's Supper. Shall we then grow restless, and wish someone would speak, or sing, or pray?

Watching may mean looking for the Lord's return, but it may have other meanings. When our Lord said to sleeping Peter, "Watch and pray," He was not calling Peter to watch for His coming from heaven. No, He called him to be vigilant at that moment of agonized wrestling in prayer.

He combined dependence on God, in whom alone he knew his strength and defence to be, with unceasing vigilance against the "roaring lion." These are the two invisible weapons which God puts into the hands of His people in the presence of the enemy — weapons which are enough to defeat his most powerful assaults.

In Gethsemane, notice that the Lord says, Watch and pray lest you enter, not into sin, but into temptation. Christ was perfect through it all, but Peter fell to cursing and swearing, and denied his Lord. It was not a question of Peter's integrity, for he loved the Lord, but he did not know himself. He had to go through this process. Yet before he had ever failed, Christ had prayed for him.

What brought him into the judgment hall? Why did he "enter into temptation" like this? — this was entering into temptation. He had not been told to do so. In verse 58, Peter followed Christ "at a distance," and "went in and sat with the guards to see the end." He "entered into temptation." There he was at that moment — flesh unjudged and trusted in — prayer and watchfulness missing — a moral distance between him and Christ — temptation entered upon, and unholy company sought.

"The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak," is not a sympathetic comment about them. It is given as a reason for watching and prayer, and to mark how necessary they are. Do not rely on the readiness of your spirit, for the flesh in which you walk is weak; therefore watch and pray that you may not enter into temptation.

See how He speaks in grace to Peter: "The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak." Oh, I know you love Me. Your hearts are all right, but it is this poor weakness. What perfect grace! He counted on their hearts in one sense when the temptation was coming. When they had failed completely, He thought of the danger to them.

To Him it was now the path of obedience; but whatever was not that was temptation. So it is with everything: all we meet with is an occasion of temptation or of obedience. Only there did it come out, at the point where everything reached its crisis with man.

This was the flesh, ready to face everything. The flesh even when warned is always self-confident… "Watch and pray," that was what Jesus did. If Peter had listened, he would have been on his guard against the temptation, and in dependence on God, and he would not have entered into it. He slept in the presence of temptation, as he had slept in the presence of the glory.

It is not any power given by the Spirit of God that keeps, even though He is the Spirit of power. It is not energy in this or that which keeps, but dependence. It is the sense of weakness that watches and prays, and so has the power of Christ resting on us. His strength made perfect in weakness.

This is the cup of sufferings. This is the cup of the wrath of God which the Lord was aware of here in Gethsemane. He knew that He would have to be made sin... Could One who was pure desire to be made sin? Do we understand His anguish, do we look at Him with adoring hearts? And then He says in verse 42: "My Father, if this cannot pass unless I drink it, your will be done." Here we see the Lord in His perfect purity. Even so, He makes His own will one with the will of His Father.

He rises and comes back to His disciples. He finds them not watching but asleep. He wakes them with a reproof, and yet with a tender apology for their weakness. Then He goes back to say what He has said before, but with less pleading: "My Father, if this cannot pass unless I drink it, your will be done."

He should feel it fully, and He did. Otherwise His submission would not have been perfect. But His obedience and submission were perfect... It was a holy desire to shrink from such a judgment, and from being made sin, even while bearing it before God. Yet with it went perfect submission and obedience to His Father, whatever His will was. And He brings it to His Father, where it ought to be brought. He was equally perfect in desiring not to drink it and in obediently submitting to drink it, if it was His Father's will.

But if we were to be saved, if God was to be glorified in Him who had undertaken our cause, the cup must not pass away from Him. And His submission is complete.

If God could ever have set aside the smallest fraction of His righteousness, He would have done it then, at the asking of His own beloved Son. But that was impossible. You would sooner see the sun drop out of the centre of our system and leave us all in darkness and confusion.

The Lord therefore takes the cup, but He takes it from His Father's hand. It was His will that He should drink it. He commits Himself entirely to His Father. So He does not take it from the hand of His enemies, nor from the hand of Satan, though they were the instruments... This is how we escape from second causes and from the temptations of the enemy: by seeking only the will of God, who directs all things.

He went through the depth of His misery in His spirit with God. It was all fully out with God. For that reason He could turn with perfect peace and say to others, "Watch and pray that you may not enter into temptation."... Everything that meets us is either a temptation or an occasion of obedience. It was to Him an occasion of perfect obedience.

They had not listened to the Lord's warnings, for their eyes were heavy with sleep. They had missed the opportunity of watching with the Lord and proved their own weakness.

I know very well it has been said he could not help it in his weariness. Friends, it is remarkable how sleep would leave your eyes if something really had hold of you. When the affections or the heart are deeply taken up, sleep flies from the eyelids. If Peter's heart, if Peter's soul, had been taken up with the sorrows of Jesus, sleep would have pressed very lightly on his eyes. But it was not so. His own sorrow filled his mind, and so he slept while the Lord was in agony.

"The flesh is weak." I can only think it is the Lord's grace to put that reading on it. People tend to put the worst reading on things; we should seek to put the best... Do you think their eyes were heavy when the armed crowd came, and afterwards? No; but the flesh was weak here. Had there been enough interest in what the Lord asked, this would not have happened. And have we not often done the same, and felt it keenly? We are told to make the best use of the time (Eph. 5:16). We cannot redeem the past.

When He comes to the disciples He finds them sleeping. Think of it! The Master praying, and the servants sleeping. The Master is in agony before God, showing the perfection of human dependence in that moment of unequalled sorrow. The servant is sleeping. Such is human nature. Peter slept in the presence of the glory of the Lord, on the Mount of Transfiguration. Now he is sleeping in the presence of His sorrow.

Where was the strength that was going through everything just now? Yet with what grace He warns, with what grace He excuses! "Watch and pray that you may not enter into temptation. The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak." ... But here He was so completely with His Father about the depth of what lay before Him. He had gone through all of it with His Father alone. So His free, unhindered grace could be just as perfect toward His poor, feeble, failing disciples. There was no weight on His spirit with them; He had carried that weight with His Father.

Just here the secret of all the failure comes out. A prayerless life is a powerless life. There can be no standing for God where there is no dependence on God... Peter is seen self-confident (verse 33), sleeping (verse 40), rash (verse 51), cowardly (verse 56), and bold in denying his Master (verse 70).

Later, at the cross, the disciples could have no part at all in the sufferings of the Lord Jesus. But here He expects some fellowship from them in watching with Him — and He finds them sleeping. In times of most pressing need our hearts may be dull and unfeeling. That is because we are not concerned to enter into the Lord's thoughts. Is one hour too long to spend in sympathy with His sorrow?

Verse 44. We learn an important lesson here. Three times over — but not vain repetition! Earlier Scripture tells us not to use vain repetitions. Yet here the blessed Lord uses the same words. We may pray the same thing over and over again, and it need not be vain repetition, if our heart is in it.

His "saying the same words" is instructive for us. It was not mere repetition, which He forbids (ch. 6:7). His soul was so affected that these were the words that expressed His deepest thoughts.

But He takes nothing from man, nor from Satan, nor does He complain as Job did. He prays — He gives Himself to prayer. Satan's effort to hide God from His soul, to get in between, as he sometimes does with believers, was useless. The distress drives Him to God, which is the true sign of the soul's link with Him. "Being in agony, He prayed more earnestly." The cup could not pass — and that was grace, mighty grace. The effect is that He receives it wholly and solely from His Father's hand.

He knew that if He did not drink that cup of judgment on the cross, you and I would have to drink it in eternity. If He did not drink the cup in our place, there was no deliverance for you and me — no salvation, no pardon, no cleansing. As He looked at that cup He shrank from it in all the perfect holiness of His being, He prayed to be spared it with the utmost intensity. Then He took it, and drank it to the very dregs in the perfection of His love.

The Lord asks them to watch with Him for that short time. Do you think their eyes were heavy when the armed crowd came, and after? No — but the flesh was weak here. Had there been enough interest in the Lord's request, this would not have happened. They miss the opportunity of pleasing the Lord. And have we not often done the same, and felt it keenly?

He was perfectly with His Father about the depth of what lay before Him. He had had all of that with Him alone. So His free, unhindered grace could move in full liberty toward His poor, feeble, failing disciples. No weight of it lay on His spirit with them, for He carried that with His Father.

Gethsemane was the doorway of the cross. There He prayed with strong crying and tears, alone with His Father in deepest agony, fallen on His face... He went into all the anguish of death, praying to be spared the cup He had to drink, yet in meek and perfect submission. And He was heard for His godly fear. He was saved, not from dying, for that would have left man in his sins and unredeemed; He was saved out of death. His prayer was answered by His resurrection.

An angel is there to support His bodily weakness. But His spirit receives its strength in prayer, and in knowing that He had come to this point along the pathway of the divine will. So He comes back from that spot in His usual calmness and peacefulness, to place Himself in the hands of His enemies.

The third time the Lord returns to the disciples, He has to say, "Sleep on now and take your rest." They had missed the opportunity of watching with the Lord and proved their own weakness. So the Lord has to say, "It is enough." The time for watching and praying had passed. The time of trial had come. The betrayer was at hand. And the One who had watched and prayed can now say, in confidence and dependence on God, "Rise up, let us go."

In verse 45, in tender words which yet showed them their service was over, and how He had been alone, He says, "Sleep on now" — watching time is finished, the power of evil in act is here.

Now that He has finished His holy, dependent watch of preparation for the cross, He can tell the disciples, "Sleep on now and take your rest." Their true rest did not depend on their watching or their work. It rested on His faithfulness even to death, the death of the cross. He goes out in the calm knowledge that He has conquered. No doubt is left that He will finish the work.

And yet they really may now sleep on and take their rest. The work of deliverance is in hands that cannot fail in what they undertake. A deeper foundation is to be laid now than the one laid for the old earth, and the "new creation" built on it will go far beyond the old in every way.

The disciples show nothing but human weakness in that hour. Weighed down by it, they fall asleep — dazed. It was the same on the mount of glory as in the valley of the shadow of death. They do not respond to His tender call to watch with Him, and they do not see their own need to stay out of temptation.

But they must be fully proved, so He does not send them away. They must be with Him to the end, and learn the lesson however gently it comes. There was overconfidence in Peter, yet even that fitted him to strengthen his brothers once he was restored by a deeper knowledge of what human strength comes to in the things of God.

So the more Satan presses Him, the nearer to God He is. That is why it says, "being in an agony, he prayed more earnestly." As a result He receives nothing from Satan's hand, but from His Father's. "The cup which my Father has given me, shall I not drink it?" Before He left Gethsemane, the whole power of Satan was morally destroyed. He had gone through the hour with His Father, and now He takes the cup from His Father's hand, as an act of obedience.

Marvelous words of grace, calmness and dignity. The Shepherd is ready to give His life for the sheep, so that they might have life and rest.

The Son of Man is now delivered up into the hands of sinners. The Rabbi, Teacher, Prophet, handed over by the false friend, is now wounded in the house of His friends. He is the Shepherd of Israel, who taught daily in the temple, made the flock lie down in green pastures and led them beside the still waters. He could have commanded more than twelve legions of angels. Now He is struck with the sword and the sheep are scattered. His dearest friends could sleep while He watched through that dreadful hour in agony of soul and prayer, and now they all leave Him.

When the enemy is at hand, it is the time for action, not for watching and praying.

The third time the Lord returns to the disciples, He has to say, "Sleep on now and take your rest." They had missed the opportunity of watching with the Lord and proved their own weakness, and the Lord has to say, "It is enough." The time for watching and praying had passed. The time of trial had come. The betrayer was at hand. And the One who had watched and prayed can now say, in confidence and dependence upon God, "Rise, let us be going."

He has now finished His watch of holy, dependent preparation for the cross. So He can tell the disciples, "Sleep on now and take your rest." Their true rest did not depend on their watching or their work. It depended on His faithfulness even to death, the death of the cross. He goes out in the calm awareness that He has conquered. No doubt remains that the work will be done.

Verse 46 may seem to contradict this, because now He tells them to rise and be going. But they may still rest, for He is going to the cross on purpose for them. He knows that Judas is coming, but makes no suggestion of going elsewhere.

The conflict at Gethsemane is behind Him. In full dignity and peace before men, Jesus goes forward to meet God's will at their wicked hands. In the meekest words He lays bare the base evil of Judas, and the rash weakness of the follower who defended Him without thinking. He points to His coming death, though He had every right to command legions of angels for Himself — He who also speaks worlds into existence and brings the wicked to nothing by His word. But He was a prisoner for the will of God, not of man's power.

In verse 45 He uses tender words that still showed them their service was over, and how alone He had been. He says, "Sleep on now" — the watching time is finished, the power of evil is here in action — "Rise, let us be going; see, my betrayer is at hand." But they must be fully proved, He does not send them away. They must be with Him to the end, and learn the lesson, however gently it comes to them. Peter was over-confident. Yet even that fitted him to strengthen his brothers. What restored him was a deeper knowledge of what human strength comes to in the things of God.

Being in an agony, He prays the more earnestly; it drives Him to His Father; and that before the trial comes. Then what is the next thing? When the trial actually comes, it is already gone through with God! He presents Himself before them saying, "Whom do you seek?" as calmly as if going to work a miracle.

Jesus was walking with God. It was not that He did not feel weakness. "Remain here, and watch with me" shows the weakness of the human condition fully felt... Then what is the next thing? When the trial comes, He has already gone through it with God! He presents Himself before them saying, "Whom do you seek?" as calmly as if He were going to work a miracle.

To others he looked just like the other disciples. He had kept company with the Lord. He had been one of those sent out to preach the gospel and work miracles. But his conscience was never before God... Three years walking with Jesus, seeing His grace and love, must have moved Judas's affections. But his conscience had never been at work before God. So it is with many.

It was a trial of man under new circumstances. Judas was a "close friend" (Ps. 41:9) of the Lord Jesus. He heard His gracious words, saw His miracles, and was probably allowed to work miracles himself in His name. And yet, as in every other trial of man, he fell. Judas is a solemn example of how far a person can come under the influence and power of Christianity, and still fall away from the faith.

It seems that Judas made good use of his time since he left the room where the feast was kept. The Lord had said to him, knowing the thoughts of his dark heart, "What you are going to do, do quickly." Possessed by Satan, he had rushed out into the dark night, and, in feverish haste, led on by the evil one, he had succeeded in all his plans.

"The swords show that the Roman soldiers (John 18:3) were at the centre of this crowd. The clubs and so on show that the Jewish temple guard, and other fanatics of various kinds, were there too" (Lange). Jew and Gentile, men of different nations and different classes, were all ready to take part in the world's crowning sin — and they did.

What a scene! Gentiles and Jews come to lay their hands on the Prince of Life, the Lord of Glory, ready to commit the greatest sin. Now all the sinfulness of sin comes into view. But why such a great multitude and such precaution to capture one man, who was "gentle and lowly in heart"? What a testimony after all to His power, which they feared — and yet what blindness.

Let me remind you of the terrible scene which began in the garden of Gethsemane. The Lord then said to those who came to arrest Him, "But this is your hour, and the power of darkness" (Luke 22:53). They had come out with their swords and clubs to do deeds of darkness. But the Lord was serene and unaffected in the face of their threats and weapons. Neither He nor His servants would fight with worldly weapons. His kingdom was not part of this world of darkness.

The crowd showed their violence in their swords and clubs. Judas showed the basest treachery, betraying the Lord with a kiss. Peter sprang into sudden action in his own strength. All the disciples left Him and ran away. Violence, treachery, false and mistaken activity, fear and shame. Again we say, what a story! And such are we when brought face to face with the power of darkness, and out of communion with God.

Judas appears with a large crowd armed with swords and clubs. He had arranged the signal with them beforehand: he would kiss the Lord. So he goes ahead to carry out his cowardly plan. He had already seen the Lord read the very thoughts of men. But he has no faith at all, so he thinks he can deceive Him in this repulsive way. He acts as though the Lord would not know that his kiss was a kiss of betrayal.

Judas came to betray the Lord at just that time, and with such a sign. This seems to add greatly to the sorrow and anguish of our Saviour. At the same time it makes the awful hardness and cruelty of Judas' act more terrible than ever.

Even with Judas — the betrayer gave them a sign: "Whoever I kiss is the man; hold Him fast." It is terrible to think of Judas urging them to hold Him fast! In Judas you get the lust of money; you see a progress of sin. He was a thief and had the money bag... Then Satan tempts him to betray Him, I do not doubt with the idea that He would get free. Then after supper Satan enters into him, and he is hardened against all natural feeling. Even many a bad man would not betray his friend by a kiss.

No doubt (it looks that way, at any rate) the devil had deceived Judas. He did not think they could ever hold Him fast. We have seen the Lord deliver Himself when His hour had not yet come. Judas found He did not deliver Himself. He was shocked, threw down the money in the temple, and went and hanged himself.

A kiss is the sign of peace, the token of affection — but this was the kiss of a Judas! It is only by the grace of God that we believers are what we are. We ought to be very careful when we say we are not people like him.

Judas was absorbed with satisfying his own lust, and blind to the glory of Christ. So he dares not only to betray the Lord, but to do it with a kiss. A little later the enemies of the Lord will spit in His face. With equal grace the Lord submits to the awful hypocrisy of the betrayer who kisses Him, and to the insulting contempt of the enemies who spit on Him. Wonderful Saviour, who endured the hostility of sinners!

Nearness to Jesus only hardens in a terrible way, if faith is missing and the heart is not moved by His presence. Satan enters that heart to harden it further. He leads him to do the basest act imaginable — to betray a close companion while covering him with kisses. In the end he abandons him to despair in the presence of God.

Here was an apostle — a preacher of the gospel, a man who claimed much. Yet under that cover of religion lay a heart trained in greed. It had wide room for thirty pieces of silver, but not a corner for Jesus. What a case! What a picture! What a warning!... He preached the gospel, but he never knew it, never believed it, never felt it.

The word translated 'Hail' is Chaire, and it literally means 'Rejoice!' though it is true it was also commonly used as a greeting or farewell. But the true, literal meaning of the word is 'Rejoice!' "Rejoice, Master!" he said, "and kissed Him."

What must the Holy One have suffered, when the one who had been in His loving company came up and said that word, "Oh, the Joy"? What suffering must have passed through that loving heart when He felt the vile lips of that one on His cheeks!

It is striking that while John and his companions called the Saviour "Lord," the betrayer called Him "Rabbi" only (Matt. 26:25). There is no recorded instance of Judas ever giving Him the higher title. To truly acknowledge Jesus as Lord is the fruit of a work of the Holy Spirit within (1 Cor. 12:3).

And the word for "kissed Him" is not the word Judas used when he gave them this sign. Then he had used the word phileo, I love, or, I kiss. But he was eager to make sure they seized the One he had once followed. So he "covered Him with kisses": kata-phileo, a much stronger word. It is difficult for us to imagine anything more horrible than Judas' way of betraying his Master. And we know from the Psalms how keenly our Lord felt it. See, for example, Psalm 41:9: "Even my close friend in whom I trusted, who ate my bread, has lifted his heel against me."

Then, after the supper, Satan entered into him, and he was hardened against all natural feeling. After all, many a bad man would not betray his friend with a kiss.

Judas is absorbed with satisfying his own lust, and blind to the glory of Christ. So he dares not only to betray the Lord, but to do so with a kiss. A little later the enemies of the Lord will spit in His face. Yet with equal grace He submits to both: to the awful hypocrisy of the betrayer who kisses Him, and to the insulting contempt of enemies who spit on Him. Wonderful Saviour who endured the contradiction of sinners!

A kiss, the sign of peace — the token of affection, but this, the kiss of a Judas! It is only by the grace of God that we believers are what we are. We ought to be very careful when we say we are not such as he.

"But Jesus said to him, Friend, for what purpose have you come?" What a calm and gentle answer to the Satan-possessed Judas Iscariot. Should this tender question not have touched the conscience of the traitor? He was beyond hope. It is significant that the Lord addresses him with the word, Friend. Yet it is a different word which the Lord used in calling His disciples as recorded in John 15. The word He uses here means "companion." Judas had been a companion of the Lord. He had seen His mighty works, and the Lord had given him messianic power to heal the sick. This is the last word that wicked man ever heard addressed to himself by the Lord.

First there comes Judas, the traitor. He masked his treachery with such hypocrisy that, nineteen centuries after the event, "the traitor's kiss" is still a proverbial expression of disgust. In the language of Psalm 41:9, here was "my close friend in whom I trusted, who ate my bread." And he had "lifted his heel against me." So Jesus addressed him as "Friend." But He asked him the searching question, "why have you come?" Judas had come to betray his Master, to gain thirty paltry pieces of silver.

The treachery of Judas still wanted to hide itself in the kiss of identification. He gives that kiss with emphasis, as if to assure the One he is betraying that he is not part of the crowd following him. The Lord sees through this disguise. He answers not with a rebuke but with a question: "Friend, why are you here?" To this He adds, as Luke tells us, the more direct one: "Judas, would you betray the Son of Man with a kiss?" Divine love has not, even yet, stopped pleading. It has not closed the door against his return even yet.

At the garden Judas and the Lord parted, to meet once more — and only once more. They would never meet again on earth, but at the great white throne. The Lord's last words made plain that the man's hypocrisy was unmasked. What must the traitor have thought during the few hours that he survived in this world?

"Then they came up and laid hands on Jesus and seized him." You don't get everything in one part of Scripture. "He gave his back to those who strike," or they could not have touched Him. He lived far too long to please men. Look at Nazareth. They sought to kill Him there, but they could not until their hour came. "This is your hour, and the power of darkness."

The Lord receives it with the calmness of One who, now in the path of obedience, had perfectly bowed to His Father's will. "Friend, why have you come?" For indeed, when He warned His disciples, He might have gone away, since it was dark. But He had not come for that. He could have had twelve legions of angels; but how then should the Scriptures be fulfilled that it must be so? … What a testimony to Scripture and its authority! In that greatest and loneliest hour, that stands out from all and has none like it, it was enough.

As the Lord is taken by the crowd, one of His disciples — John tells us it was Peter — used his sword to cut off the ear of the high priest's servant. But this did not lead to a fight. The Lord Jesus was in perfect control of the situation. He gave the royal command to put up the sword, adding that whoever takes the sword risks perishing by the sword. Matthew does not mention His faithful mercy in restoring the ear. This Gospel puts more emphasis on His authority, while Luke shows His grace.

When Christ was praying, Peter was sleeping. When Christ was submitting as a lamb led to the slaughter, Peter was fighting. When Christ was confessing in suffering, Peter was denying Him with cursing and swearing. This is simply the flesh at work. It sleeps when it should be awake. It is full of energy when it should be still. Then it denies the Lord when the trial comes.

Peter was pleased with himself and sure of himself, and he had a strong, driving love for his master. These worked with mixed motives, out of a heart that had never been humbled. They led him to use the sword and cut off the ear of the high priest's servant. Weighed in God's presence, it was flesh and worldliness. Many of the best in our day, I judge, have the same thing to confess: zeal without knowledge. The aim was right. Much in the man who took up the defence was wrong. Much of the method and the course he chose was wrong too.

The Lord was speaking of the hostile world He was leaving them in. He had told anyone who had no sword to sell even his coat and buy one (Luke 22:36). Peter seems to have taken this literally. The moment he sees his beloved Master attacked, his weapon is out, and he strikes a servant of the high priest and cuts off his ear. But he has belittled and misrepresented the One he wanted to serve. A Master who needed His disciple's sword to get Him out of such hands would have fallen very low indeed. If He yields, it is to God, not man.

How slow we are to learn grace, or to grasp the unworldly, the heavenly nature of Christianity! How slow to learn the differences that God has made in the ordering of His ways! The law and the sword agreed well; but grace and the sword are absolutely incompatible. Nature understands the first and acts on it at once. But the Christian should seek to know the second, and act on that. The disciple acted in law and used the sword; the blessed Master acted in grace and healed the ear of Malchus. How bright the contrast!

When he got into the high priest's hall, the wounded man's relation recognised the man who had used the sword. Possibly Peter thought he was very devoted, and that he was doing a fine thing. Dear friends, what we need is to get the word from the Lord.

The Lord had told any disciple who had no sword to sell even his coat and buy one (Luke 22:36). Peter probably took this literally. The moment he sees his beloved Master attacked, his weapon is out, and he strikes a servant of the high priest and cuts off his ear. But he has belittled and misrepresented the One he wanted to serve. His Master must have fallen very low indeed, if He needed His disciple's sword to get Him out of hands like these. If He yields, it is to God, not to man.

A sword was out of keeping, totally out of place, in the company of the meek and lowly Sufferer! … Peter was completely outside the current of his Master's spirit. He had not one thought in common with Him about His path of suffering. He wanted to defend Him with weapons of the flesh, forgetting that His kingdom was not of this world.

But this did not turn into a fight. The Lord Jesus was in perfect control of the situation. He gives the royal command to put the sword away, and adds that by taking the sword a man exposes himself to perishing with the sword. Matthew does not mention His faithful mercy in restoring the ear. Matthew stresses His authority more, rather than His grace as Luke does.

The character of the patience and the faith of the saints is not to resist at all. This is true at all times. If anyone uses the weapons of the flesh, those weapons will master him. Whoever draws the sword shall perish by the sword.

He could have had twelve legions of angels. But then how would the Scriptures come true, which said it must be so? … He was going as a lamb to the slaughter. This was His place. He was always perfectly obedient, and He was learning obedience by the things He suffered. That path is ours. If a Christian uses human violence and human weapons, the world will meet him with human weapons that are stronger.

Peter did use the sword to defend his Master. Matthew records the Lord's reproof (26:52), and it fits his Gospel, since it marked a change in the way opponents were to be dealt with. That reproof settled for ever the idea of spreading the kingdom of God now by such weapons. "All who take the sword will perish by the sword." And in a future time this same principle will hold good (Rev. 13:10).

The Lord did not say this to the world in general, and He did not mean nations quarrelling with one another. He aimed it at the thought in the hearts of His disciples that the sword would set up His kingdom. Others of the Lord's people have had the same thought since that memorable night, and have perished by the sword as the Lord said they would.

Scripture keeps referring to the sword as the instrument of death. The New Testament speaks of the magistrate carrying it (Rom. 13:4). This shows that the gospel does not set aside God's governmental principle of capital punishment, which God commanded after the flood (Gen. 9:5-6).

Peter is again to illustrate how far even a loyal heart may be from the mind of Christ... But he has belittled and misrepresented the One he wanted to serve. His Master would have to be fallen very low indeed to need His disciple's sword to get Him out of hands like these. If He yields, it is to God, not man; He yields — to take the cup from the Father's hand: and what should the sword do here? Were not heaven's legions dependent on His will? and would not the Father, if He had willed it, give Him, not twelve frail disciples, but more than twelve legions of angels?

He could have asked the Father for twelve legions of angels. If one angel was able to destroy 185,000 troops in one night (2 Kings 19:35), what could twelve legions do? The Roman legion was 6000 footmen, plus horsemen. But He was not concerned with defending Himself. He was concerned with fulfilling Scripture.

The conflict at Gethsemane is behind Him. In full dignity and peace before men, Jesus goes forward to meet God's will at their wicked hands. In the gentlest words (verses 50-54) He lays bare the base evil of Judas and the rash weakness of His thoughtless defender. He points to His coming death, though He had the right to command legions of angels on His behalf — He who also speaks worlds into existence and destroys the wicked by His word. But He was a prisoner for the will of God, not of man's power.

In Matthew 26:53 we have a detail that belongs especially to this Gospel. It was simply the right of Jesus, as Messiah, the Son of God, to have angels at His disposal.

He sought no rescue for Himself. He was ready to bare His chest to the dreadful arrow, and to go to the very limit of obedience. That is why He said, "But how then should the Scriptures be fulfilled, that it must be so?" (Matthew 26:54). Fulfilling Scripture was supreme in His holy, devoted heart. It must be so, He said. Even for Him, rescue was impossible if God's will was to be done and the work of redemption completed.

He had gone through it all with His Father about His path, and now it was settled — not His feeling about it, but the divine path itself. It must be: Scripture, the true revealed mind of God, had pointed out that path. What a testimony to Scripture and its authority! In that greatest and loneliest hour, that stands out from all and has none like it, it was enough.

In the Garden of Gethsemane Peter drew his sword in feeble defence of the Lord. The King reminds him of the army at His disposal, the heavenly hosts... But He had not come to fight a battle against man, not even against His enemies. He came to fight against sin, and in that conflict He must be alone. More wonderful than ever will be the royal display after that glorious victory.

If a Christian uses human violence and human weapons, the world will meet him with human weapons, and stronger ones. Submission to God's will and the cross is the path.

This word is more general. It covers necessity of any kind — the necessity that lies in the nature of the case, or above all the necessity that comes by divine appointment. That gives it greater strength. "Must" is its most frequent translation. These passages show the necessity established by the will and word of God: Matthew 16:21; Matthew 26:54; Luke 24:44; John 20:9; Acts 4:12.

Here we see the simple submission of Jesus, meek and lowly in heart. He could have had more than twelve legions of angels; "but how then should the Scriptures be fulfilled, that it must be so?" Notice what is most striking here. This was the last extraordinary moment. He was about to drink that cup of wrath. The blessed Son of God as a man was going into what none of us can fathom — to endure what was due to sin. And still the Scriptures, the word God had spoken, must be fulfilled. What a testimony that they express divine thoughts, His Father's mind, even to the Lord Himself! And so they ought to be to us. When Satan came, He answers with a text: "Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God." When Satan comes again, "It is written." Now at this last moment the Scriptures must be fulfilled.

Under the shadow of the cross, He said, "But how then should the Scriptures be fulfilled, that it must be so?" (Matthew 26:54). Which Scriptures? No doubt largely Moses and the prophets, but also the Psalms, which spoke not only of His death and sufferings as crucified, but also of His resurrection, glorification, sitting at God's right hand, and coming reign.

He could have asked the Father for twelve legions of angels. If one angel was able to destroy 185,000 troops in one night (2 Kings 19:35), what could twelve legions do? The Roman legion was 6,000 foot soldiers, plus horsemen. However, He was not concerned about His own defence, but about fulfilling Scripture.

In the Garden of Gethsemane, Peter drew his sword in feeble defence of the Lord. The King reminds him of the army of heavenly hosts at His disposal (Matthew 26:53). But He had not come to fight a battle against man, even against His enemies. He came to fight sin, and in that conflict He had to be alone.

In Gethsemane He made it clear. If He called on His Father for twelve legions of angels to stand by Him, the Father would send them and deliver Him from the cruel enemy. But His lips did not breathe that prayer. He asked for no rescue. He was ready to bare His chest to the dreadful arrow, and to go to the utmost extreme in obedience. The fulfilment of Scripture was uppermost in His holy, devoted heart. "It must be so," He said. If God's will was to be done and redemption completed, no rescue was possible — not even for Him.

He was always perfectly obedient. He was learning obedience through the things He suffered, and that path is ours. If a Christian takes up human violence and human weapons, the world will meet him with human weapons, and stronger ones. Submission to God's will, and the cross, is the path.

(ληστής) 'robber, bandit.' Used by the Lord about those who bought and sold in the temple. Matt. 21:13; Mark 11:17; Luke 19:46. In the parable of the Good Samaritan the traveller fell among robbers. Luke 10:30, 36. When they arrested the Lord, He asked whether they had come out as against a robber. Matt. 26:55; Mark 14:48; Luke 22:52. The two criminals crucified with the Lord were also men of this character. Matt. 27:38, 44.

The Lord knows it all. Does it not seem remarkable? Here is the One so gentle and so lowly — "His Voice not heard in the street" and the like. Yet they come out against Him as against a thug, with a great armed crowd.

In verse 55 He speaks a searching word to the consciences of the crowd. He had taught publicly in the temple, in front of them, every day, and they did not arrest Him. Now they come to search for Him in the dark of night, as though He had been a thief trying to evade the law. In this way He exposes the unrighteousness of their cause, which they were afraid to carry out in the light of day.

They could have taken the Lord any day in the temple, out in the open, for He had taught openly and publicly. But their cowardly fear of the people, and their lack of all principle, led them to act as if they were dealing with a thief. They understood a thief, and they knew how to deal with a thief. But the infinite perfections of Christ were beyond their understanding.

They had come with worldly weapons. But His daily contact with them in the temple had shown that He never used such weapons. The incongruity of their coming in this way only exposed their evil motives. "But," He added, "this is your hour and the power of darkness" (Luke 22:53). They were to be allowed their brief hour, to express their hatred in full against Him and against God, as the willing tools of satanic power.

Why had they not taken Him, while daily in the temple He had been teaching publicly among them? They had feared the people, as we know. Judas's treachery alone gave them what they thought was their opportunity. But neither power nor cunning could have succeeded against Him. Only the will of God made it possible, the will that Scripture witnessed to. It bound them so little, but Him so completely; and yet they too were fulfilling it.

He was perfectly submissive to the authority of those led by the traitor. Even so, we catch a glimpse of our Lord's conscious kingly authority. To those sent to seize Him He would not agree, even by silence, to any thought of guilt on His part. He reminds them that He had sat daily with them, teaching in the temple. It was the fulfilment of Scripture that He alone acknowledged.

Why had they not taken Him earlier, while He was teaching openly in the temple every day? They were afraid of the people, as we know, and only Judas's betrayal gave them what they thought was their chance. But neither their power nor their cunning could have succeeded against Him. It happened only because of that will of God which Scripture testified to. That will held them so lightly, but held Him completely; and yet even they were carrying it out.

Sometimes the written word says, "that the scripture might be fulfilled." But in Gethsemane our Lord spoke of how He could ask His Father, if He wished, for twelve legions of angels. Then He added, "But how then should the Scriptures be fulfilled?" And again, "that the Scriptures of the prophets might be fulfilled." Why Scriptures and not Scripture? Because every prophetic writing about His humiliation, rejection, sufferings, pain and forsaking had to be accomplished in His death, as a sacrifice and offering to God on the cross.

The word He had spoken was now fulfilled. He had said, "You will all fall away because of Me this night; for it is written, 'I will strike the Shepherd, and the sheep will be scattered.'" Now the Shepherd stands alone.

Now the sheep of the flock scatter, as the prophet had testified. As they fled they were protected, as John shows us, by their struck Shepherd. In fact they could not follow Him now, as He had said to Peter. Nothing could be allowed to blur the truth of the lonely, unique place He was now to take: not with His people, but for them... So He was alone, and He had to stay alone. Only when His work was perfectly finished would He come out in the morning of resurrection, with the night gone for ever.

The Lord submits in perfect calm. He had already weighed it all in His Father's presence... But no one could follow Him into the valley of death, or stand up against the enemy's power, except the faithful Saviour Himself.

They thought their lives were in danger. They had said boldly that they would never deny Him, yet they failed miserably. A lesson for us: when the test comes, we will break down too, unless we are in communion with Christ.

We may be tempted to throw stones at them and call them cowards. So let us ask ourselves this instead: have we ever sought our own things at the cost of His company, His reproach and His interests?

The Father would send the Spirit at the Son's asking. Once on high, the Lord's first thought would be for the disciples He had left on earth. This would show real love on His part — love to the very men who deserted Him and ran away when He was arrested in the garden.