Camping Out in Gethsemane

Luke 21:37  And in the day time he was teaching in the temple; and at night he went out, and abode in the mount that is called the mount of Olives.

Throughout the week of the passion, the Mt of Olives, and certainly, the Garden of Gethsemane, was the camping spot for the Lord and His disciples. This is how Judas knew where to find Him when He betrayed the Lord. (Lk 22:39)

Each day, Jesus would teach in the temple and heal folks of sicknesses, each night they would resort to the Garden where He would instruct the disciples on ministry and their futures.

I wonder, were they squatters in this olive garden? Or, like the borrowed donkey and the borrowed upper room and the soon to be, borrowed tomb, was this place loaned to the Savior by some kind owner?

Gethsemane means oil press. Indeed, it became a place of great pressure as Jesus agonized there in prayer to the point of sweating, as it were, great drops of blood.

A sad fact in modern Christianity is that so few pray as they ought, including this writer. Time constraints, mismanaged schedules, misplaced priorities, lack of faith, multitudes of distractions and a simple unwillingness to do the work of prayer keep us off our knees. The prophet said that he would be guilty of sinning if he failed to pray for the people of Israel. I Sam 12:23. Daniel prayed, windows open and the breeze a blowing, knowing that it meant a visit to the zoo and an overnight stay at the Lion's Club.

But our Gethsemanes are unmanned much of the time. We say quick little ditties over our meals and maybe a bedtime "goodnight" to the Father, but fail to agonize in prayer and fellowship with Heaven.

Prayer is a powerful weapon against the enemy, a discipline for the follower of Christ, a blessing to those for whom we pray and a sweet-smelling savor to the Lord on high.

Therefore, we need to find that camping out spot where we go without sleep and are arrested by heaven's edicts. We need regular overnights to the garden where we accept the cup and embrace the cross.

Do you have a place like this?

’Neath the stars of the night
Walked the Savior of light,
In the garden of dew ladened breeze;
Where no light could be found,
Jesus knelt on the ground,
There He prayed ’neath the old olive trees.

’Neath the old olive trees,
’Neath the old olive trees,
Went the Savior alone on His knees:
“Not My will, Thine be done,”
cried the Father’s own Son,
As He knelt ’neath the old olive trees.
 
All the sin of the world
On the Savior was hurled,
As He knelt in the garden alone;
Hear His soul burdened plea,
Let this cup pass from Me,
“Even so, not My will, Thine be done.”

May my song ever be
Of the love proffered me,
By my Lord all alone on His knees;
Praise His wonderful name,
He who bore all my blame,
As He knelt ’neath the old olive trees.

’Neath the old olive trees,
’Neath the old olive trees,
Went the Savior alone on His knees:
“Not My will, Thine be done,”
cried the Father’s own Son,
As He knelt ’neath the old olive trees.