Garden Dust and Golden Joy

Our group sat at the Garden of Gethsemane silent in thought. Until that moment many of the sites on our tour had been more upbeat, even jubilant. These wondrous ancient places brought all the flannel-graph images of my childhood to life—we were experiencing the Bible in 3D! But there in the Garden our hearts were filled with the weight of what happened nearly 2000 years ago. Reading Luke 22:39-46 one of our staff encouraged us to ponder what had happened here and spend time in prayer. As I did the heat of the sun felt just a little more fierce. I dabbed at growing drops of perspiration annoyed at the distraction, before realizing the connection: Jesus had been here doing the very same thing nearly 2000 years ago! 

I imagined Jesus fervently praying. Beads of blood rolled down his face, pooling where his knees pressed into dirt. His best friends slept unknowingly in the distance. As I pictured Him in that place I realized the agony he must have felt – and that it wasn't just over the physical torment to come or the abandonment of his friends. The Father's wrath was soon to be poured over him. Yet even this was not enough to stop him, because of his love. For me. 

The reality of his pain and sacrifice connected for me in a way I've never understood before. As did the fullness of his joy and the power of the Gospel. He wasn't murdered; not a thousand Pharisees could have held him from the cross. He went willingly because of joy. Actual, real joy! I'd never really understood that before. He endured the shame and pain because of his love for me, and fixing my brokenness was worth it for him. I realized again his complete and utter selflessness. 

Running my fingers through the dirt I noticed how the brown ridges highlighted the tiny maze of my fingerprints. I thought of another garden – of Eden – where God made man from the dust of the ground. From those earliest moments with man God had planned redemption on our behalf. Adam's sin couldn't overcome His love. In all my years struggling to be good enough I had forgotten love. And joy. Salvation swept into my heart all over again. 

I came to this ancient grove of trees with a sense of mourning, but being here had changed me. Sitting in the dust where Christ had knelt did connect me to him more deeply. Being here, with dirt on my shoes and my hands now covered in dust, reminded me that my soul has a Caretaker with a plan. And his plan involved dying to set me free to love and live in joy. I stood a new person, and walked to our tour bus renewed in a way I can still barely describe.