When I was 27, I had surgery on my left kidney. On the day of the operation, I was nervous for what lay ahead. I recall being in the prep room with my father, about an hour or so before they were going to take me away, and the mood was heavy and sober. Even though we both had faith in the Lord, it was an anxious moment: What would happen? Would I make it? Would I suffer much? Would there be complications? Our anxiety was understandable; it was major surgery, after all. Still, consider the environment: Here I was, in an American hospital, where several highly trained, highly skilled doctors and nurses were committed to preserve my life, and ease my suffering. A whole team of men and women who devoted their lives to study would do all in their power to make sure that no harm would befall me. To boot, I was surrounded by technology unimaginable even a few decades ago; the product of countless millions of hours of research, development and testing all aimed at ensuring my safety and health. Even more, my father and pastor were with me; standing with me to pray for me and comfort me through this trial. Even more friends and family stood with me in prayer in their homes.
Contrast this with Jesus’ situation in Jn.13-17. Here, in His well known final discourse, He shares the passover meal with His disciples. He is hours away from his own “procedure.” He anticipates being put into the “care” of individuals committed to ensuring that he suffers as much as possible. Their aim was to do all in their power to ensure that he dies a horrendous, humiliating, and excruciating death. Their training was geared towards that end: to harm, hurt, humiliate and kill. If my soul was sober and troubled before my operation, imagine the trouble He felt in his soul as He had that ahead of him. Yet, in that place, among the people who would desert him, he serves them (Jn. 13), speaks comfort and peace to them (Jn.14:1; 16:33), and prays for them (Jn.17). That, friends, is our amazing God.