By Margaret Bellers
The night before Jesus’ betrayal he cried out to his Father for deliverance. Overwhelmed with dread, blood dripped like tears down his face.
He asked his closest friends to stay awake with him that night, but they abandoned him to sleep. Jesus woke them, saying, “Couldn’t you watch with me even one hour?” (Matthew 26:40). But they just fell back asleep. Later, during his arrest and trial, they deserted and disowned him.
Jesus even felt forsaken by his own Father. With his final breath as he died on the cross, he cried out, “My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?” (Matthew 27:46).
We will never face the amount of pain Jesus did as he carried the sin and shame of the world on his back, alone and rejected by the ones he came to save. But in our own ways we have all experienced betrayal, rejection, and loneliness. Maybe our trust was broken by a friend or spouse. Maybe we were abandoned or neglected by our parents. Maybe we carry the invisible weight of grief or depression or chronic illness and feel like no one truly notices or cares.
Whatever the case, Jesus understands and empathizes. In fact, he was “made in every respect like us, his brothers and sisters, so that he could be our merciful and faithful High Priest before God” (Hebrews 2:17).
Jesus knows the pain of being rejected by the ones he loves. He knows the pain of separation from God. Because of this, he promises he will never abandon or forsake us when we are suffering (Hebrews 13:5). He will never fall asleep on our pain (Psalm 121:4). He will never tire of holding our hand through the night. He will never stop praying for us (Romans 8:34). He will keep track of every tear we cry (Psalm 56:8).
Today as we take Communion, let us remember the one who faced the worst kinds of suffering so we could know his perfect love and unchanging faithfulness. Let us remember the one who chose to die so we could draw near to him in our pain. Let us remember Jesus, who gave everything so we would never be alone or rejected like he was, not even in our darkest nights or our final breaths.
Margaret Bellers lives with her husband in Michigan. While often bed-bound with chronic migraines, she hopes to be able to serve others through her writing.
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