It was late Thursday night, the moon casting a silvery glow through the window, illuminating the small room where Mark lay restless in the dark. He had climbed into bed, fatigue weighing heavily on him, yet sleep eluded him like a shadow weaving in and out of reach. Jesus’s words echoed relentlessly in his mind: “You will all fall away.” Those haunting pronouncements danced like phantoms, a stark reminder of the prophecy etched in ancient scriptures: “I will strike the shepherd, and the sheep will be scattered.”
Mark wrestled with a storm of emotions, grappling with the disturbing notion that he could be among those who would flee. How could this be? He had devoted the last three years of his life to Jesus, his revered Rabbi and beloved teacher. They had shared countless moments of learning, laughter, and miracles that defied comprehension. This man was not just a leader to him; he was akin to a brother, someone he admired and cherished deeply. Yet, doubt gnawed at him, and he couldn’t help but wonder what did it all mean?
Earlier that evening, they had gathered for a solemn celebration, the Passover feast brimming with significance. The atmosphere was thick with the aroma of roasted lamb and unleavened bread, a sacred tradition that linked them to their heritage. Jesus had exemplified profound humility, kneeling before them as he washed their feet, an act so surprising and tender that it left Mark in awe. “Can you imagine! Jesus washed my feet,” he thought, his heart swelling with a mix of reverence and confusion. “He said, whoever wants to be first in the Kingdom of God must become the least.” The weight of those words settled heavily in his chest, puzzling yet profoundly stirring.
An urgency began to build within him, igniting a fire of determination. “Perhaps I can find Jesus and ask Him,” Mark mused, the thought propelling him from the warmth of his bed with newfound fervor. He bolted from the confines of his room, propelled by a desperate need for clarity. In his haste, he neglected to don his tunic, darting down the dimly lit corridor clad only in his linen undergarment, the cool air brushing against his skin, a stark contrast to the whirlwind of thoughts racing through his mind.
He had to find Jesus—he simply had to speak with Him. Questions surged through him, each one more urgent than the last: Who would betray Jesus? Who could dare to bring harm to the one who loved so selflessly, with a love that knew no bounds? With every step, Mark felt the weight of the night press around him, a mixture of fear and hope that would ultimately guide him toward an encounter that might change everything.
Suddenly, Mark found himself amidst the dense bushes and shrubs of the Garden of Gethsemane. The air was thick with tension, and in the distance, he glimpsed Jesus, a figure strangely illuminated yet surrounded by an impenetrable darkness. Mark settled quietly, his heart pounding, as he listened intently. The night was silent except for the anguished words spilling from Jesus’s lips: “Abba, Father, everything is possible for you. Take this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what you will.”
In this moment of deep sorrow, Mark felt a profound weight in the atmosphere; he had never seen Jesus like this before. Overwhelmed by fear, he felt paralyzed, desperate to flee but rooted to the spot, unable to move.
As he watched, Jesus approached Peter, James, and John, who lay asleep beneath the gnarled branches of an ancient olive tree. How could they be so oblivious? How could they abandon Jesus in his hour of need? They were meant to stand by him, to offer strength and prayer. After the unsettling meal they had shared, everything felt drenched in foreboding. How could they simply drift into slumber?
Jesus evidently shared Mark’s dismay. Reaching the trio, he roused them with a tinge of disappointment etched across his features. “Could you not keep watch for one hour? Watch and pray so that you do not fall into temptation.” Each word dripped with urgency and instruction. Mark reflected on the depth of Jesus’s teachings, realizing that every syllable he uttered carried profound meaning. If only they truly listened, perhaps they would grasp the essence of life itself.
Suddenly, and out of nowhere, Judas emerged from the shadows! Mark sat frozen, his wide eyes straining to see in the dim light. He could almost feel the ground trembling beneath him as the soldiers marched in, their synchronized footsteps sending vibrations through the soil with each heavy stride. Clad in armor that glinted dully in the low light, they moved as one, a menacing wave cresting towards the center of the scene. Judas, at the forefront of this grim procession, approached Jesus with an unsettling calm. In a moment that seemed to stretch into eternity, he leaned in and pressed a kiss upon Jesus’s cheek—a gesture both intimate and treacherous. Mark’s heart raced as confusion and fear washed over him. What was unfolding before his eyes? What was happening right now?
In an instant, the soldiers dispatched by the chief priests rushed forward, seizing Jesus by the arms as if he were a dangerous criminal being taken into custody. The air was charged with tension. Peter, his heart racing with adrenaline, couldn’t stand by and watch. With a burst of courage, he lunged at one of the soldiers, drawing his sword in a swift motion and slicing off the man’s right ear. A gasp rippled through the crowd, the shock palpable.
But in that dramatic moment, Jesus, embodying his boundless compassion, acted with grace. Instead of retaliating or condemning, he knelt down in front of the bewildered soldier and, with a gentle touch, miraculously restored the severed ear, mending the pain and chaos of the moment right before everyone’s eyes. The crowd could hardly believe what they had witnessed—a powerful testament to his selflessness amidst the turmoil.
Yet, they remain resolute in their refusal to let Jesus escape. A sense of obligation weighs heavily upon them as they prepare to take him into custody and present him to the high priests. This act isn’t driven solely by orders; there’s a profound significance behind these unfolding events, a tension teeming with anticipation. A divine design is unfurling right before Mark’s stunned gaze, an intricate tapestry woven by divine hands. Despite the shock that courses through him from the recent developments, he begins to comprehend that Elohim’s will is displayed in the actions of Jesus, shaping a destiny that transcends their immediate reality.
Mark crouched low in his hiding place among the dense, shadowy shrubs, heart pounding in his chest. He yearned to leap from his concealment and shout for help, but an icy grip of fear and disbelief held him firmly in place. The soldiers methodically began to drag Jesus away, and an overwhelming surge of urgency washed over him. In a moment fueled by instinct, Mark sprang to his feet!
As he charged forward, his linen tunic snagged on a thorny branch, tearing violently from his body. Fabric ripped, and he felt a pang of vulnerability wash over him. He desperately wanted to rush to Jesus’s side, to offer help and support, but his fear clamped down on his resolve like a vise. In the heartbeat that followed, he made a split-second decision: he would run to warn the others, to alert them to the danger closing in.
With adrenaline coursing through his veins, Mark sprinted down the dusty road, leaving his torn tunic behind like a forgotten memory. The ominous weight of Jesus’ words echoed in his head, resonating with every frantic step: “I will strike the shepherd, and the sheep will be scattered.” Naked and drenched in shame, he fled for his life, vulnerability giving way to a desperate need to protect those he loved from the shadow of impending doom.
Written by Izelle Hickey