HE SAID -- SHE SAID (Mark 14:32-33)

Sorrow To The Point of Death -- He Said

"He began to be deeply distressed and troubled, saying, "My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death." - Mark 14:32-33

Touch is a powerful force. The clasp of a hand, hug or pat on the knee reminds us that we are loved, that we matter. A virtual hug is fine, a friend's email promising to pray is nice. But real arms and hands are so much better. A friend's tears mixing with mine helps to ease the burden of grief. Below are a few emails I've received this week from friends hurting. Friends who, if I lived closer, I'd offer a hug.

"My wife is now upstairs in bed. Her head feels as if it "explodes" every time she sits or stands. Just what the future will bring, I know not. "

"My son was hospitalized yesterday to insure his safety. I would appreciate your prayers. "

"This been a trying time here, lots to do to sort things out. Dad's passing has been hard on all of us, but especially me."

In the garden the evening of his longest night Christ needed a hug in a big way. Jesus needed his friends to stay close, to pray for Him.

They took a nap, instead.

His sorrow was so great that he evoked the D word. Not that he would take his own life. Others would do that for Him. But knowing that my Lord's soul was overwhelmed with sorrow, even to the point of death, gives me a measure of comfort. At least He understands the pain of despair, the depths of depression.

If you are hurting I offer no pithy words to cheer you up. No witty remark to deflect your pain. You deserve more than a bumper sticker solution. You need a surgeon. So hear the words of my Lord, instead.

"Lord, have mercy on my son. He has seizures and suffers greatly."

" 'Bring the boy here to me,' said Jesus. He rebuked the demon, and it came out of the boy. He was healed from that moment." - Matthew 17: 16-18

If your son or daughter, husband or wife needs healing or help with an affliction or addiction call upon the Man of sorrow. And be a friend to someone who's hurting.

Desperate Times, Desperate Measures-- SHE SAID

"He took Peter, James and John along with him, and he began to be deeply distressed and troubled. "My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death," he said to them." - Mark 14:32-33

Despair was a word I never thought I would or could really grasp. There was never a time in my youth that I can remember having felt so abandoned that I would evoke the word "despair."

But now I know a time came when despair draped over me like a heavy, soaked blanket, droplets of cold anguish running through me. Darkness seemed to be my only light. I found myself, palms and face against the wall, feeling my way along, hoping not to stumble or fall, and fearing if I did fall I’d never find my way back.

I stood at the graveside of my cousin’s daughter and I wondered in my heart how he could remain standing, knowing that this was the second of his three children he’d put to rest. His face was drawn, eyes reddened from the devastating blow, and there were no words I could say that would ease his pain. There was nothing I could do to stop his suffering. The loss of one child would be cruel enough, but to lose two – I could not begin to grasp how deep his anguish delved. This was despair.

There is nothing more empty, more alone, more painful than the anguish of despair.

When Jesus called his inner circle of disciples – His dearest friends, to sit and watch for him, He felt despair. Returning to find His friends sleeping must have been the final blow, the last ray of hope knocked from beneath Him. He was overwhelmed by a sorrow that drove Him to the ground.

We are fortunate that we cannot see the hurt ahead. Christ stood at the edge of the garden, looking into darkness, knowing the depths of despair he would face. Nowhere to run, not even to his Abba Father. That was His despair.

Jesus knew for desperate times He would need desperate measures. He suffered the pain and despair and took the necessary measures to save us. All we have to do is reach to the hand that bears the scars. Won't you reach?