Good Friday

 

Tonight is the night during Holy Week when we remember the night in the Garden of Gethsemane when the Savior stepped into the deepest part of His redeeming work. Luke records that “being in an agony he prayed more earnestly: and his sweat was as it were great drops of blood falling down to the ground” (Luke 22:44). Modern revelation adds that this suffering caused Him “to tremble because of pain, and to bleed at every pore” (D&C 19:18). What happened there is so sacred that, as Bruce R. McConkie taught, “We do not know, we cannot tell, no mortal mind can conceive the full import of what Christ did in Gethsemane. We know he sweat great gouts of blood from every pore as he drained the dregs of that bitter cup his Father had given him.” “The Purifying Power of Gethsemane,” General Conference, April 1985”

And yet, what we do know is enough to change everything. McConkie declared that “it was in Gethsemane that the infinite and eternal atonement began” (The Mortal Messiah, 4:127), and that there the Savior “took upon himself the sins of all men on condition of repentance” (The Purifying Power of Gethsemane*, Apr. 1985). In that garden, before any arrest, before any cross, the Son of God willingly began to bear what justice required. As the Lord Himself revealed, “I… have suffered these things for all, that they might not suffer if they would repent” (D&C 19:16).

Gethsemane was not only about satisfying justice; it was also about entering the full depth of the human condition. Alma taught that Christ would suffer “pains and afflictions and temptations of every kind… that he may know according to the flesh how to succor his people” (Alma 7:11–12). In that suffering, He did not become sinful, but He came to know perfectly what sin does to us. As Jeffrey R. Holland testified, “He who had never known sin would come to know how the rest of us would feel when we did sin.” (*None Were with Him*, Apr. 2009).

Gethsemane’s toll was not abstract or distant. It was personal. Russell M. Nelson taught that “in Gethsemane, the Savior took upon Himself the weight of the sins of all mankind, bearing its massive load that caused Him to bleed from every pore,” and then added this remarkable truth: “And yet it was also personal” (*The Atonement*, Oct. 1996). Gethsemane not just for the world in general, for sin in general, it was for each of us individually.

Today, as we remember Gethsemane, we remember that Christ did something both for us and with us. He suffered “that they might not suffer” (Doctrine and Covenants 19:16), satisfying the demands of justice. And He suffered “pains and afflictions… that he may know… how to succor his people” (Alma 7:11–12), entering fully into our experience so He can heal us. He bore both our sins and our sorrows.

He did it willingly. In that same garden, He prayed, “Father, if thou be willing, remove this cup from me: nevertheless not my will, but thine, be done” (Luke 22:42). Before any soldier came, before any cross was raised, He chose to stay. He chose to drink the cup.

Because of what happened in Gethsemane, no burden you carry is unfamiliar to Him. No sin you struggle with is beyond His reach. No sorrow you feel is something He has not, in some way, already borne.  Indeed, because of Gethsemane, Jesus knows exactly what it is like to be you. And because He went there, because He knelt, and suffered, and stayed, and then went forward to the cross, you are not alone. As Jeffrey R. Holland taught, because He walked that “long, lonely path utterly alone, we do not have to do so.” “None Were with Him,” April 2009. 

Tonight, as we remember Gethsemane, if we do that remembering with spiritual eyes, we will see that He is not distant from us and our suffering.  We will find that the power of Gethsemane is, and always will be, right here.

Art: Walter Rane, Not My Will But Thine