Hello, God. It's me, Mara.

On a hillside near the city, a grove of olives grew — Gethsemane means “oil press” — its nuance Jesus knew. This Garden Grove, a place of prayer — a happ’ning there one night, near press for oil — the press of sin, our sins on Christ, not light.

So — what happened in that garden, where heavy weights press oil? Affliction and anxiety, to us they are a foil.

The first man, Adam, by his choice disjoined(1) God by his sin. The second Adam, Jesus Christ, forgives us from within. He knew He was the sacrifice, He sweat real drops of blood, from stress intense, to prove Him man, bore weighty worldly mud. “Abba Father!” He cried aloud. “Let this cup pass from Me.” He’s honest — then to God He adds, “Thy will …” to set men free.

As Jesus sweat His blood for us His dearest friends “sawed logs.” We cannot feel as Jesus felt; our grasp of this is fogged. Only Jesus could surrender — He’d be the sacrifice to take away the worldly sins, His blood not imprecise(2).

He calls us all to come to Him, He offers to free us from worries, cares or up-tight stress, and all our daily fuss. Sometimes our actions cause more sin — we’ve helped to add more weight. The oil press presses, oil drips out — our sins on Him abate(3).

Each day we choose — give joy or pain. The future? Who’s to say? Tomorrow’s cares, they worry us; God’s grace is for today! Submit! He did what we can’t do. The garden settled it. Lay down our lives — He did for us. Be healed, restored and fit. Better than us have trod that path – there’s Isaac and St. Pat(4), they struggled hard, and Jesus, too. They won — we’ll give them that.

Replacement for our sacrifice? That was the garden scene. A challenge now — Respond! He calls; our filthy sins are washed clean.

Love, Mara.

(1) Separate 

(2) Vague

(3) Press Down

(4) Heard the sermon a few years ago on Saint Patrick’s Day — that’s why St. Pat is mentioned here.