But Wednesday is the night before He was betrayed, and He knew it was coming. As I've thought about that tonight, I've felt a closeness with that particular state, the state where anticipation is the source of suffering. I know that place very well. So this is a poem about that.
the night before
The night before
the end and the new beginning,
I don't imagine that You slept.
If You did, what did You dream?
How deep was Your agony then,
anticipating the torture to come?
How much did You really know?
You sweat blood in the garden...
did You doubt that You'd rise again?
You experienced flesh's frailty.
Fully God yet fully man,
You faced anxiety writ large.
You know every sorrow we face.
Firsthand, You felt the terror of
anticipation, of worry, of fear.
Tonight I sit with You,
sleepless, we both face the future,
frightened, and fumbling for our faith.
Thank You, Jesus, for living even this.