Do you ever dismiss an entire reading at church because you "know it already?"
During Holy Week, we read the entire account of the Passion of our Lord. This is one I tend to approach with an admittedly prideful, arrogant mindset. We do this every year. And it's good for us to do, but...ya know. No big surprises or insights are expected. Cuz I know everything already. (Sarcarsm, folks.)
But then....insight came, unexpectedly. It was when the mob comes to arrest Jesus in the garden, and Simon Peter draws his sword and cuts off the ear of the guard. And Jesus admonishes Simon Peter to put away the sword, and says - "Do you think I cannot call on my Father, and he will at once put at my disposal more than twelve legions of angels?" (Matthew 26:53)
And at that line, it hit me; I am totally Simon Peter. And the Lord is totally speaking these words to me. I want to take control of everything, I want to preserve peace and shield my life and my loved ones from pain and suffering. I want to protect the precious little bubble of goodness I have in my world. And if anything comes to threaten that, I jump into action.
But, Jesus chides, Emily...Do you think I cannot call on my Father, and he will at once put at my disposal more than twelve legions of angels?
When I'm in the thick of trial, all I want to do is jump up and fight off the thing that's attacking my peace. Maybe it's an injury or illness, a miscarriage or a friend moving across the country, a suffering child or difficulty in marriage. No one wants suffering...I don't want it, Simon Peter didn't want it, even Jesus didn't want it, in that He asked for the Lord to take the cup of suffering away (Matthew 26:40). I had become so familiar with this question about the Legion of Angels, that I just wrote it off as Jesus reminding Simon (et al) of His power and sovereignty - I read it as Jesus saying "Seriously Simon? Don't you know who I AM?" I heard admonition, I heard scolding. But this year it hit me differently. I heard a gentle, empathetic Jesus. I heard Jesus encouraging, pleading with His beloved to trust in the process, even when it is excruciating. "Yes, I could call twelve legions of angels to miraculously descend upon us all in this very moment. I could end this all right now, if I just called upon my Father to do so. In fact, I just prayed for that 5 minutes ago while you were sleeping. But He did not provide it. And He did not provide it because there is a deeper darkness I have yet to go through in order to arrive at something even more glorious than twelve legions of angels descending from heaven upon the earth."
More glorious than twelve legions of angels. Jesus saw through the passion and death. He saw exactly what makes Friday of Holy Week a good Friday. He knew it was worth withholding a rescue in the Garden of Gethsemane because a greater rescue was coming in the garden of His empty tomb. There have been plenty of times in my life I've been on my knees or my face, either literally or figuratively, begging and pleading with the Lord take away the suffering, the pain, the loss. There have been countless times I've taken up figurative arms against some spiritual attack or some devastating news, impulsively trying to relieve the situation myself to avoid the suffering or the injustice. And yet the Lord, here, is saying, "Stop. Stop all of that. Be patient. Persevere in faith. Trust. Because I hear you. I see you, and I desire even greater than you desire here. I see your pain, I see your suffering, and I know it so well. I know it so well that I, too, have begged the Father to take it away. But if the Father does not take the pain away, I'm begging you, then, dear child, to keep stepping forward with faith. Keep climbing that mountain of Calvary, bearing your cross. Trust that He will only allow it because He knows that this passion you are suffering is necessary to bring out something so great, so miraculous, that not even twelve legions of angels descending from heaven can hold a candle to it. It's coming. Just hold fast. Keep going. Hold my hand, and we will walk through your passion together to your own Easter morning."