Christ in the Garden

HE went to that particular garden, it strikes me, because it was within the boundaries of Jerusalem. He might have gone to Bethany that night as He had on former nights, but why did He not? Do you not know that it was according to the Levitical law that the Israelites should sleep within the boundaries of Jerusalem, on the Paschal night? When they came up to the Temple to keep the Passover they must not go away till that Paschal night was over. So our Lord selected a rendezvous within the liberties of the city, that He might not transgress even the slightest jot or tittle of the law. And again, He chose that garden, amongst others contiguous to Jerusalem, because Judas knew the place. He wanted retirement, but He did not want a place where He could skulk and hide Himself. It was not for Christ to give Himself up — that were like suicide; but it was not for Him to withdraw and secrete Himself — that were like cowardice. So He goes to a place which He is quite sure that Judas, who was aware of His habitudes, knows He is accustomed to visit; and there, like one who, so far from being afraid to meet His death, pants for the baptism with which He is to be baptized, He awaits the crisis that He had so distinctly anticipated. “If they seek me,’ He seemed to say, “I will be where they can readily find me, and lead me away.” Every time we walk in a garden I think we ought to ‘recollect the garden where the

Fez Saviour walked, and the sorrows that befel Him there. Did He select a garden, I wonder, because we are al so fond of such places, thus linking our seasons of recreation with the most solemn mementoes of Himself? Did He recollect what forgetful creatures we are, and did He therefore let His blood fall upon the soil of a garden, that so often as we dig and delve therein we might lift up our thoughts to Him who fertilized earth’s soil, and delivered it from the curse by virtue of His own agony and griefs?

Christ’s spiritual suffering was altogether within the veil. No one could descry or describe it. But His soul-sufferings had some witnesses. Not the rabble, not the multitude; when they saw His bodily suffering, that was all they could understand, therefore it was all they were permitted to see. Just so, Jesus had often shown them the flesh as it were, or the carnal things of His teaching, when He gave them a parable; but He had never shown them the soul, the hidden life of His teaching, this He reserved for His disciples. And thus it was in His passion; He let the Greek and the Roman gather around in mockery, and see His flesh torn, and rent,.and bleeding, but He did not let them go into the garden with Him to witness His: anguish or His prayer. Within that enclosure none came but the disciples. And not all the disciples were there. There were a hundred and

twenty of His disciples, at least, if not more, but only

eleven bore Him company then. Those eleven must cross that gloomy brook of Kedron with Him, and eight of them are set to keep the door, their faces towards the world, there to sit and watch; only three go into the garden, and those three see something of His sufferings; they behold Him when the agony begins, but still at a distance. He withdraws from them a stone’s cast, for He must tread the wine-press alone, and it is not possible that the priestly sufferer should have a single compeer in the offering which He is to present to His God. At-last it came to this, that there was only one observer. The chosen three had fallen asleep, God’s unsleeping eye alone looked down upon Him. The Father’s ear alone was attent to the piteous cries of the Redeemer. “He knelt, the Saviour knelt and prayed, When but His Father’s eye Look’d through the lonely garden’s shade On that dread agony: The Lord of all above, beneath, Was bow’d with sorrow unto death!”

Then there came an unexpected visitor. Amazement wrapped the sky, as Christ was seen of angels to be sweating blood for us. “Give strength to Christ,” the Father said as He addressed some strong-winged spirit.

“The astonish’d seraph bow’d his head,
And flew from worlds on high.”

He stood to strengthen, not to fight, for Christ must fight alone; but applying some holy ‘cordial, some sacred anointing to the oppressed Champion who was ready to faint, He, our great Deliverer, received strength from on high, and rose up to the last of His fights. Does not all this teach us.that the outside world knows nothing about Christ’s soul-sufferings? They draw a picture of Him; they carve a piece of wood-or ivory, but they do not know His soul-sufferings; they cannot enter into

oe ame them. Nay, the mass of His own people even do not know them, for they are not made conformable to those sufferings by a spiritual fellowship. We have not that keen sense of mental things to sympathize with such grievings as He had, and even the favoured ones, the three, the elect out of the elect, who have the most of spiritual graces and who have therefore the most of suffering to endure, and the most of depression of spirits, even they cannot pry into the fulness of the mystery. God only knows the soul-anguish of the Saviour when He sweat great drops of blood; angels saw it, but yet they understood it not. They must have wondered more when they saw the Lord of life and glory sorrowful with exceeding sorrowfulness, even unto death, than when they saw this round world spring into beautiful existence from nothingness, or when they saw Jehovah garnish the heavens with His Spirit, and with His hand form the

’ crooked serpent. We cannot expect to know the

length and breadth and height of these things, but as our own experience deepens and darkens we shall know more and more of what Christ suffered in the garden, sae