With Jesus

July 3, 2018

“Father, I want those you have given me to be with me where I am, so that they will see my glory, which you have given me because you loved me before the world's foundation.”  As the night deepened, the prayer deepened with it. This was no casual, “God bless mommy and daddy” kind of prayer. This was the agony of a soul about to die, pouring out its innermost desires. 

Jesus was in Gethsemane, an olive grove to the east of old Jerusalem, preparing for the culmination of his life’s work and mission, asking his Father that what is to come may not be in vain. It’s an unusual prayer, given the circumstances. In less than twelve hours, he will be flogged mercilessly, driven like an animal through the city streets with a heavy hewn log across his bloody shoulders, and fastened to it with nails driven through his hands and feet. Why would anyone pray for his followers to join him in such an excruciating ordeal? 

So they may see his glory. When we use that word, we usually imagine scenes of exquisite beauty, unimaginable wealth, or unassailable power. Glory can be an expression of such things, but at heart, it is simply the essence of a thing. For Jesus, it is his self-sacrifice, the pouring out of his blood, his taking our sins upon him and setting us free. It was brutal, bloody business, but the cross revealed the glory of Christ in his unlimited love for us. Prior to the cross, this glorious love was merely words and deeds which were wonderful enough, but unable to reveal the essence of who Jesus is. It took the cross for us to see his glory.

This morning on my way into town, I pondered this verse, and prayed that I might for even one day to be so completely “with” Jesus that I would see his glory. I really did want to experience it. But it didn’t take long for the busyness of the day to elbow its way into my consciousness, crowding out any real awareness of Jesus. I was doing good, even Christian things, but I wasn’t where he was, and so missed the glory. Tomorrow is another day, another opportunity to be with him. I’m thankful that his mercies are new every morning, and that maybe...just maybe...tomorrow I’ll stay in his presence long enough to get just a glimpse of his glory.