My Jesus in the Garden

We all experience times, when our minds take control of our hearts. Many years ago, I went through a period of intense worry. All details aside, suffice to say, I was overwhelmed. Life as the mother of two boys, under the age of 2, was ripe with challenges. My immediate family was also going through some difficult situations, including what would be the last 18 months of my dear grandmother’s time with us. As the months unfolded, my stress turned into worry. I am a chronic over-thinker, by nature, so this was bound to happen, I suppose. Soon, my worry turned into anxiety, which was so powerful, I experienced horrible physical symptoms. I always appeared fine on the outside, but on the inside, I was crumbling within the walls of my own prison.

As often as I turned to prayer, I couldn’t shake it and I certainly couldn’t find Him, no matter how hard I looked. I naturally felt a great deal of comfort in the Eucharist. I’ll always recall the words “In your mercy, keep us free from sin and protect us from all anxiety.” Hearing this resonated, but still, I was searching for Him. He was there within me, yet I all I could feel was distance. I often heard of people forming a kinship with different Faces of Jesus. Many people say they prefer the “laughing Jesus”; others, the “suffering Christ”. Personally, I’d always found that one to be the most beautiful and powerful, so I did my best to cling to it. With so many Faces of Jesus, there was one though, that I never really considered. This was the One I wished so desperately to behold, I just didn’t know it.

I remember like yesterday, seeing this Face for the first time. Holy week was upon us and as I listened to the Lord’s Passion, I was struck differently by His agony in the Garden of Gethsemene. In the past, it was simply part of the narrative, but now, something drew me in. I rushed home to re-read this section, as well as some other reflections. I devoured everything I could find, especially Padre Pio’s Meditation on Jesus’ Agony. As I prayed, I felt Jesus surround me and in that moment, I found myself there with Him, in the Garden. Immediately, I knew he’d been patiently waiting there for me, all this time. I told Him that I’d been looking everywhere for Him and we really needed to talk, so we did. I felt relieved to tell Him everything, even if He already knew. Of course, He understood better than anyone, having the weight of the world on His shoulders.

Then, I truly saw his Face in that moment. I saw everything, the sweat mixed with blood, the tears…the Agony. I was there in His moment of anguish; yet, even the perfectly raw emotion of this instance paled in comparison to the peace I felt beside Him. Then, as the truth set in, I felt ashamed and completely unworthy. I remember reading once where Archbishop Fulton Sheen said that, “All worry is atheism, because it is want of trust of God.” What had happened to me? I always knew I could trust Him, so why would I allow myself to ever be overcome by distress? I also knew that I would need to pick up my cross and follow Him eventually, yet here I was, stuck in this Garden….and I didn’t want to leave. He didn’t mind, though. I could stay as long as I needed to, with the promise that when I do go, what troubles me should remain there with Him. I must allow Him to sweat for me and bleed for me; I needed to trust Him.

That day, I forged a deep devotion to Christ, in the Garden– a dedication to His Agony, His Anxiety, His Distress, and His Anguish. I am still devoted to every drop of sweat and blood, every tear. I surround myself with images of Jesus’ Agony, because this is the moment where He saves me from myself, over and over again. I’ll admit that I still visit Gethsemene, from time to time. When I feel overwhelmed, this is where I go to open my heart and place everything in His perfect hands. I know that He is there in the Garden, waiting for me, if I need Him. I know that He will never leave me and certainly never fall asleep. I know that I can unite myself to Him in this moment, but I also understand that I can’t stay there forever, as much as I want to. For when it is indeed time to go, I make the promise to trust Him and leave the rest behind. Then, He takes my hand and leads me out, so we can begin the next journey, together.