TEARS UNDER THE OLIVES The word Gethsemane meant “olive press” C. Doug Blair, 2015, Waterloo, ON
Tempted As We Are
Might I have summoned Those angels innumerable Proved all my claims From Pilate’s curious court? Heaven’s defense For Heaven’s matchless envoy Full might and main To bring the good report? And so much sweat With passion’s blood co-mingling Thrice I had prayed Removal of this trial But all was set And blood must bring the blessing. Lamb’s life expended To gain my Father’s smile. (Hebrews 5: 8, 9)
Image by Greg Olsen
I Lay Them Upon Your Altar (John 17)
Father, I have watched Over these men. Have taken them your images Of community free From retaliation. Of joy in the Rendering of mercy. Of good report On those who struggle, With only the half known. Of fulness of days Free from fear of supply, From fear of man. I have set them To wandering. Ambassadors of a realm Not yet seen. Sporadically meeting the test. Boiling often in self-hurt. Turning, of times, To look back from the plough. Vying for place. Vying for glory. Missing often the real gems Delivered with No special fanfare. And now I leave, So much so seemingly Ill-prepared. But You have given them me. Persevering to their Appointed destiny. All but the one with the purse. I trust You For their well-being. I trust You for the prophecies Which speak of me. Quickly now‌ To my offering. Amen.
Musings of Messiah
painting by james tissot
You have no idea. But try anyway, would you? I took myself to that garden, that familiar prayer garden, ‘neath the olives. Brought my buddies along. Asked three of them to come, sit closer in the cold and darkness. They tried, bless ‘em, but soon fell asleep. How often when people are overwhelmed by circumstances and the fast pace of events. How often do they cloud up and doze off out of sheer self-defense. But I had stupendous business at hand. Placed into their bodies and circumstances and pullings and whisperings…I had to obey. The Father’s Plan depended upon it. And I was His to do and to demand as He saw fit. I wasn’t so much afraid of a Cross or of ridicule. I was terrified of losing the sense of His touch and listening ear. Had never happened before as I had grown up from stage to stage here on this little blueand-green place full of the ones we loved. I vented, I pleaded, I reminded. I looked down several times to see blood issuing from places where it ought not. The Evangelist would later say that I began to be “troubled and sore amazed”. Don’t forget, the omniscient thing I had left behind in the Heavenlies for a season. I hurt, and I heard the swan-song of the Accuser. Not so much to frighten me, but to insinuate that all the beloved ones could never be rescued; could never be removed from his clutches.
Finally, over and above all the sweats and bleeding, and taunting, tension and tears, I heard again the promises of my Father through the words of Psalmist David. I heard and believed. I would come through death. I would not suffer corruption. I would walk again in glorious fellowship. A comforting presence drew near with a cooling wind through the branches; probably an angel. He was my most tangible companion at that moment. I got up off the ground; watched my buddies sleeping for a couple more minutes; noticed the torches of Judas and henchman moving toward us up the slope…
No Corruption A single word sustained me When all seemed lost and dark When slings and arrows Hateful priests Had found their precious mark.
I knew it all was coming The prophecy so clear ‘Messiah bleeds and Dies in shame To bring redemption near.’
And friends had missed my struggle In anguished prayer and dread.
They slept while Satan Tempted me To doubt life from the dead.
But Father you had promised Much joy at your right hand And death’s corruption Foiled in this The rescue we had planned.
I knew it at the darkest Your Word would live in me And soon an empty Tomb proclaimed Eternal life for free.
PSALM 16: 10. For thou wilt not leave my soul in hell; neither wilt thou suffer thy Holy One to see corruption.
Treachery’s Kiss
The kiss upon the cheek. The countenance glazed With feigned friendship. The onlookers in the know With slander, besmirching And judgment. The menacing swords Having Father’s approval, Furthering His plan. Still I must forgive. Count it all loss For the excellency Of His better. I have right, words And power to silence All scoffing. But I shall not,
And He shall have His way. And I shall rise In some bright morn Of recompense. And postures, And much unfeeling, Found shining in wondrous Family likeness; Beside an empty tomb. The hate forgot. (Painting by Tissot)
Small
Strange it may sound In a world full of striving “Yes, look at me. I have gained and will be
Noticed of men At the top of the ladder. Do what it takes And admirers will see.” Yet there’s a place To discard all pretention Breathe ever freely Released from sin’s thrall. Mountain or forest Or sea coast all glorious Showing God’s grandeur For there, I am small. Small, and so thankful That He knows my journey. Small, and in wonder That He has my back. Small, there’s a comfort In trusting and leaning Safe from the arrows
Of Evil’s attack. But does He fathom My daily dilemmas? But does He know The hurts people will bring? That’s when my eyes turn To Christ ‘neath the Olives Begging for rescue; Of Him will I sing.
Gethsemane: Olive Press
A Bonding
The Speaker regarded the chapel room full of Seniors, many in wheelchairs, some sleeping. He had been exploring the resurrection message of Psalm 16, suggesting that its promise helped Jesus win the excruciating battle of faith and surrender in Gethsemane. The man Christ Jesus stood on that promise believing that He would come through Calvary’s worst.
8 I have set the Lord always before me: because he is at my right hand, I shall not be moved. 9 Therefore my heart is glad, and my glory rejoiceth: my flesh also shall rest in hope. 10 For thou wilt not leave my soul in hell; neither wilt thou suffer thine Holy One to see corruption. 11 Thou wilt shew me the path of life: in thy presence is fulness of
joy; at thy right hand there are pleasures for evermore.
A woman in the front row interjected with a question: “What about me? I can’t go to a church because of my condition in this chair. Neither can I always come to this chapel?” The momentum stopped. The room turned.
“What is your name, Ma’am?”
“Jane. I hope you don’t mind my asking.”
“Jane, God knows your situaton. He will also understand if you are reaching out to Him in the best way possible through Jesus. You have prayer, silent times, Bibles in the residence, people here who might read you a chapter or two, friends with whom to share your heart and wonder. Just put yourself alone, quietly, with Jesus. He likes that.”
Please remember, it’s not about a building. It’s about a bonding.”