In the Shadows of a Garden

In April 2018, I had the privilege of visiting Israel for about ten days with a remarkable group of young Christians who were a part of the Leadership Institute at Christ’s Church of the Valley in Phoenix, Arizona. Rick Penny and Steve Gross planned the trip and executed the plan in an outstanding manner.

I had never been to Israel, and honestly had never had an overwhelming desire to go. But I am glad I had the opportunity, and that I was smart enough to take advantage of it! So many experiences, from viewing the cave in Caesarea Philippi to the Temple Mount in Jerusalem, or floating in the Dead Sea and seeing the ruins of multiple first-century synagogues. In one synagogue, I even sat on a seat that could’ve been used by Jesus Himself! The Sea of Galilee was amazing, and of course, all of the sites in Jerusalem associated with the death and burial of Jesus.

Were I asked to say which place was my favorite, I’m confident I would say the Garden of Gethsemane. There is little doubt that this site is the very place where Jesus went on that troubled Thursday night as He prepared for what was to come on Friday morning.

For longer than I can remember, I’ve been telling Point students – and anyone else who will listen – that the ultimate question in life has two parts: “Who is Jesus, and what difference does He make?” I thought about that question as we quietly sat in the garden. I can think of no better place to have done that, for it is in the garden that we see a vitally important portrait of who Jesus is. We also see the difference it makes that Jesus chose to be the Jesus God sent Him to be in that moment.

In the garden, Jesus didn’t see Himself as the prototypical cultural warrior. Ironically, He is in fact waging a battle with sin and death – but not as a warmonger. Even more ironically, had He wanted to approach the battle in such a way, He would have had more resources than any of the John Wayne wannabe cultural warriors of our day. After all, do you remember that he told Pilate, “You have no authority over Me, unless it had been given you from above.” (John 19:11) Earlier, in the kangaroo court Pilate and the Jewish enemies of Jesus had arranged, He told Pilate, “My kingdom is not of this world. If My kingdom were of this world, then My servants would be fighting so that I would not be handed over to the Jews; but as it is, My kingdom is not of this realm.” (John 18:36)

A careful reading of the gospels would remind us that there was a “cultural warrior” in the mix that night in Gethsemane – we know him to be Peter – who did pull out a sword and cut off the ear of a servant of the high priest. But Jesus quickly put a stop to that and restored the man’s ear.

In the garden, Jesus didn’t plan for retreat and withdrawal. It would not have been difficult for Jesus to make a run for it. There is a bit of history of Jewish prophets and messiah figures running off into the wilderness to hide from what they viewed as a very corrupt and ungodly system of religion managed by the High Priest and his cronies in Jerusalem. He was arrested in what seems to be the middle of the night. Surely He and a few of His trusted disciples could have slipped away, headed for the Jordan wilderness, and started what we would call a commune. Like others before Him, the group could have been relatively safe from harm and could have bragged about their purity compared to mainstream culture.

But retreat was not the right option for Jesus. He must have been thinking that if you hide from the world and refuse to engage it, you have no chance to transform it.

In the garden, Jesus stayed and waited. He spent some time praying – desperate prayers, according to Luke’s account. Prayers for us, according to John’s account. He waited for the betraying kiss of Judas and for what seems to have been great overkill on the part of the arresting officials to haul him back to the High Priest, Roman officials, and ultimately, the cross. Mocked by people who should have known better, He willingly offered His life as an atoning sacrifice for our sins – not only our sins, but the sins of the whole world (1 John 2:2).

Remember, this is the teacher who told us that a good shepherd will lay down His life for His sheep (John 10). He is the teacher who reminded us to turn the other cheek, go the second mile, give your shirt and your jacket (Matthew 5-7), and let your love for God and your love for neighbor shape your life (Mark 12). He would even ask God to forgive those who so awfully abused Him (Luke 23).

The options for Jesus seem obvious. He could start a war. He could run, hide, and become a hermit. Or He could be true to the mission His Father gave Him.

He chose to be true to the mission His Father gave Him. Shouldn’t we do the same?

You might remember that on that first Easter Sunday afternoon, when Jesus appeared to His disciples (minus Judas and Thomas), the first words He spoke to them were, “Peace be with you.” For a long time, I read those words as, “Calm down, guys, my resurrected, glorified body can walk through walls, but I won’t harm you.” But a more informed reading of the text might suggest something like “Shalom – finally, your relationship with self, others, God, and Creation can be made right!”

Then, in the same gathering, Jesus said, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent Me, I also send you.” (John 20:21) Were I to paraphrase that, it would sound like this: “Finally, your sense of self, others, God, and Creation can be made whole. That’s why the Father sent me to Israel, and, lo and behold, I am sending you with the same mission.”

That statement alone is why “Who is Jesus, and what difference does He make?” is the all-encompassing question of life. 

But there’s more. In 2 Corinthians 5, perhaps mindful of what Jesus said to His disciples, Paul urges the believers in Corinth, “therefore, we are ambassadors for Christ, as though God were making an appeal through us; we beg you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God.” And a few verses prior to this one, Paul says, “all these things are from God, who reconciled us to Himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation.”

If Jesus refused to be a cultural warrior on the one hand and a hermit on the other, I’m just wondering how the evangelical world – in significant ways – has determined that John Wayne types are our heroes, and real Christian men should model life after him and not Jesus, or that the best thing we can do is withdraw from the terrible world around us and wait to die and go to heaven.

All the while, in the shadows of that garden, I see a Savior who courageously engaged the world – neither as some masochistic warrior who desired “to rule like the Gentiles who lord their authority over you” (Mark 10), nor as a frightened and misinformed servant of God who needed to go hide – but as God’s Messiah, who stood and faced the world that surrounded Him.

He didn’t decide to get a new law passed to protect Him and His followers. He didn’t start a boycott of all the merchants who were on the other side. He didn’t call in the tanks and obliterate the enemy. He didn’t start bragging about male superiority – in fact, He would use women to announce His victory a few days later.

It just seems odd that so many of us fail to look deep into the shadows of Gethsemane and see who Jesus really was and the incredible difference the real Jesus continues to make, some 2,000 years later – even as warmongering sects and hermit communes continue to pile up on the ash heap of history.

Note:

I’ve been thinking about the content of this post for a long time, wondering if I should post it or not. A week or so ago, in a sermon on the Gospel of Mark, I alluded to some of this content, and it seemed to be well received. Then I read Jesus and John Wayne, by Kristen Kobes du Mez, professor of history at Calvin University. I suspect some of what she says needs a bit of refinement in terms of details, but honestly, it was embarrassing to read. On the one hand, many of the people she takes on in the book are people I never felt comfortable with in terms of their approach to the kingdom. Her work confirms my years of doubt about those folks. 

I remember saying in a sermon 20 or so years ago that a particular person might be a good psychologist, but he was a very poor theologian. I don’t think I ever received more negative comments about something I said in a sermon. But Jesus and John Wayne would suggest I was right when I made that comment.

I often wondered how anyone could listen to a certain Seattle pastor preach or trust his judgment. But little did I know what a theologically warped world he created in his association of churches. We all read about a variety of sex scandals among lots of evangelicals, but I tended to think that such was the exception to the rule and churches would surely handle such behavior appropriately. Boy, was I wrong!

This post is not the same kind of content as Jesus and John Wayne, but it does address the same concerns. If you’re looking for something to read that will shake up the cobwebs in your brain, you might want to check out the book! 

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