Gethsemane

Gethsemane

By Stan Key

I want your will to be done, not mine (Luke 22:42 NLT).

The atmosphere is filled with dread

As doubt and fear rush through my head,

Things have gone from bad to worse;

My life feels like it has been cursed.

So here I come to bow my knee

And seek you, Lord – Gethsemane.

My friends who came to help me weep

Augment my pain – they’re fast asleep!

So in this garden all alone,

I bow before my Father’s throne

And place again my confidence

In him who is my Sure Defense.

“Remove this cup,” I plead in prayer.

“The pain is more than I can bear,

Can’t you see my misery?

Will you not deliver me?

Father God, to you I bow;

Hear me, hold me, save me now!”

Lord, when I’ve prayed this way before

(A thousand times and maybe more),

You always granted my request

And gave to me your very best.

I know your promises are true,

So show the world what you can do!

“Drink this cup,” was all I heard.

“Lord, don’t you have another word?

All my life I’ve lived for you;

Everything I say and do….”

“Drink this cup,” he said again.

“Abba, yes – I understand.”

The lesson here is plain to see:

You too have your Gethsemane.

And as you journey, soon or late,

You too must pass this garden gate;

And in a lonely place of prayer

Do battle with some dark despair.

But if the only prayer you pray

Is “Lord, please take this cup away”

Then say “Amen”…. You’ll never see

The purpose of Gethsemane!

Life’s greatest battle can’t be won

‘Til you can say, “Your will be done.”1

1 I was inspired to write this poem by reading a poem written by Ella Wheeler Wilcox, also entitled Gethsemane (1887).