Jesus, were You ever scared?
I guess...I guess I'm just asking because I've seen You be so many other things. I've seen You angry and sad and joyous and sarcastic and funny and all these other things that I find myself being from time to time, but I don't know what I've seen You scared. Were You ever scared?
I probably would have been scared in the Garden. When You stepped away to pray by Yourself. When You took a few minutes to think about what You knew was going to happen next. When You considered Your own painful death. I think I would have been scared. But I don't see You scared.
I see You agonizing. I see You troubled. I see You wishing there was another way. I see sweat like drops of blood dripping from Your brow as you consider what You're about to do, but I don't see You scared. Like every other scene of Your temptation, what I see here is Your confidence. You were always so sure of things, even when You weren't sure of Yourself. I see You praying troubled, but trusting. I see You saying You don't want to do this, but I don't see You saying why. I see You struggling, but still submitting.
Were You not scared?
It matters. It matters because...because I guess I'm looking for permission to be scared. I guess I'm looking for some sign that it's just part of my human nature. And if it's part of my human nature to be scared, it had to have been part of Yours. But I never see You scared.
Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe Your disciples just didn't tell us. Maybe, like me, You were torn by Your fear. Maybe You picked up Your Cross and set Your eyes on Calvary and set Your stomach in knots. Maybe everything in Your head screamed that You couldn't take another step while Your feet disobeyed You and kept walking anyway. Maybe You couldn't drink the vinegar because You knew if one more thing touched your lips, You were going to hurl. Everywhere. Maybe, like me, You were keeping one eye on heaven in anticipation and one eye closed, afraid to see.
Maybe You were scared. Maybe You had all the same hesitations I do. But then I think about what it really means to be afraid, and it's hard to see You that way. It's hard to see You trembling; I don't think I've ever seen You trembling. It's hard to see You unsure; You've always been so sure. It's hard to see You questioning. You spent so much time questioning others, asking things which could not easily be answered. Were there questions You didn't know the answer to? It's hard to imagine.
I don't know how You could be in this flesh and not know fear. But at the same time, I don't know how You could be God and know fear. Fear stands in opposition to faith. Am I to believe that the Son of God could lose His faith? This is the confident assurance I always see in You. But am I to believe that the Son of Man could not lose His faith? Then how human is He? Do You see where I'm stuck, Jesus? Do You see where I just don't know?
Maybe I don't need to know. Maybe it's not all that important. But it feels important. It feels pressingly important. It's like...maybe if I could know what You did with fear, I could know what to do with it. Maybe if You told me what You did when You were afraid, I'd know what to do when I am. Do I stand in confident assurance, in believing what I know to be true of my God? Then what do I do with my doubt? Do I feign fullness, choosing to accept only that which is true? Then what do I do with my emptiness? Do I fall to the ground and pray until the agony I feel in my spirit drips out of me in blood like sweat pouring down my face? Is there a way to live with fear? If there's a way at all, You know it, Lord, because You've lived it. So I'm asking...
Were You ever scared?