Mark 14: 32-36
They went to a place called Gethsemane; and he said to his disciples, “Sit here while I pray.” He took with him Peter and James and John, and began to be distressed and agitated. And he said to them, “I am deeply grieved, even to death; remain here, and keep awake.” And going a little farther, he threw himself on the ground and prayed that, if it were possible, the hour might pass from him. He said, “Abba, Father, for you all things are possible; remove this cup from me; yet, not what I want, but what you want.”
I remember where I was when I saw him. I was standing about 40 feet away from him, in line to play nine square with a bunch of excitable middle schoolers, and he was off by himself, alone in a crowd, absently bouncing a ball all by his lonesome. He was a camper and I was the counselor he had unknowingly tormented all week. He was loud and inappropriate in the cabin, unresponsive when being called, and nearly impossible to wrangle on to the next scheduled activity.
So when I saw him there all by himself, every logical fiber told me to ignore him, to just pretend I didn’t pity him or realize just how isolated he had become, not just from the other counselors, but even from the other campers who were tired of his antics by this point in the week. It was to the point that even as I left the nine-square line, I felt like my feet were carrying me to a place unknown, a rabbit hole where I wasn’t sure I’d have any patience or energy left to spend on this kid.
So we started slowly. Just bouncing the ball back and forth, not really talking. Bouncing on the ground turned into bouncing off our heads, which morphed into keeping track of how many head-bounces we could get in a row between us. A silly insignificant game, but he was focused and locked into it like I had never seen him before. He was happy and engaged, a drastic change from the bored aimlessness I noticed from across the room. Other kids tried to get in on the game, but I knew that this was something that was just for him and me. We had made a connection with each other, even in this small moment in time.
I thought maybe it was some fleeting memory that he would quickly forget, but as I watched his grandmother pick him up from the cabin the next day, he poked his head back through the door to tell me to not forget about our record. It was a small but powerful reminder, from a rambunctious and often ignored middle schooler, that we can never have our own notions about who deserves friendship and Christ’s love. Thinking back to before I walked over to this kid, my reluctance felt like a small shadow of Jesus in Gethsemane, pleading with God for any other way. But what Christ teaches us in this moment is that God’s love is not self-seeking or self-beneficial. Instead, it chooses the deeply right way; the way that is beyond our logics and grudges and pride. Love chooses the way towards servitude, toward the cross, and toward a lonely kid playing by himself.
Prayer: Dear God, we confess that we have chosen our own ways. We have turned a blind eye to loneliness and suffering in favor of our comfort and personal stability. Help us to choose the way of love, moving towards those that the world has cast aside. We give you thanks and praise for the way you chose to love us, through Jesus in the garden. May we always remember and repeat his words throughout our lives: “Not what I want, but what you want.” Amen.
-Zach Hutchinson
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