TITLE: Garden of Pain
By Loralee Scott
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Gethsemane – garden of pain; a garden watered with the blood of believers who enter alone and wrestle with their greatest fears. Who cry, “Father, if you be willing, take this cup from me!”
I don’t like this garden, this place of pain. I wish there was no such place as the garden of Gethsemane.
I remember a time when you created another garden. It was not a garden of pain, but a garden of provision. Creator and creation walked hand in hand. You asked only one thing: that we not eat from the fruit of one tree. ..Just one tree; in a garden full of trees.
Yet it was that one tree we could not resist. The whisper of temptation grew to a roar, drowning out your voice with the lies of the serpent. Convinced we were missing out, we reached for the fruit of that tree and bit into the great deception.
Yet even as we were disobeying, you already had a plan for our rescue. It too included a tree and your son who reached out both his hands to draw us back to you.
Because of that, I find the strength to cry out here, in my garden of Gethsemane, “nevertheless not my will, but yours be done.” Yes to this place of pain. Yes to your will, whatever that may bring. Yes to the road ahead; whether I carry my cross or die on it, matters not. What matters is unbroken fellowship with you.
So, yes to the garden of Gethsemane, to this place of pain. For it is here that I find you.
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