Power to the Pray-ers

Make your way to Mark chapter 14. Our passage this morning is verse 26. I don’t know if you’re getting the same advertisements in your social media feed as I am—probably not. That’s the whole point of the algorithm, right? It’s supposed to show you ads that incline you to buy things. I’ve been getting a ton of golf simulator ads, and it’s surprising how popular golf simulators are. They’ve got a couple of them in Vacaville. One is a private club you can join. They’re showing up in video arcades and all sorts of places. Simulators are a funny thing, right? They let you do things or pretend to do things you can’t afford to do or don’t want to risk doing in real life. Did any of you play SimCity, the video game? You get to simulate running a city, right? You can be a city planner, putting in parks, skyscrapers, sewer systems, subways, and all that stuff. You can pretend to be that. Not long ago, I was sort of addicted to Microsoft Flight Simulator, flying airplanes all over the place. When I was in high school, I went to this driving simulator. It was a full car—a Mazda Miata—set on robotic riser arms with a 180-degree screen. You sat in the car, and you could pick whatever race course you wanted to drive—an oval, a road course, whatever. Without being a multimillionaire to buy a real race car and pay for a real racing team, I got to simulate being a race car driver. It’s kind of fun, right? You can live vicariously, pretending to be something that, under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t be able to do. But I couldn’t walk out of that driving simulator and call up a Formula 1 team and say, “Hey guys, I’m ready to go. Want to put me in a car?” Or, after playing SimCity, I didn’t go apply to be a city planner—that would probably be a disaster. That’s one of the downsides of simulators: you eventually need real training and real ability to do things in real life.

One of the pillars of orthodox Christianity is the understanding of the atonement, which we call penal substitution. Essentially, this means that at Calvary, Jesus Christ took on Himself the punishment for our sins. In other words, He was a substitute sacrifice for sinners. The Bible says that the wages of sin is death—the penalty or payment required for sin is death. This is what God told Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden: “The day that you eat of this tree, you will surely die.” We rejoice in the fact that we, who could not pay the penalty for our sins, have been given a substitute by God in His grace and mercy. This is something we see throughout Scripture, even in the Old Testament, which is full of foreshadowing that one day God would provide a perfect substitute sacrifice for His people. For example, when Abraham was commanded to offer Isaac as a sacrifice, at the apex of that story, when Abraham is about to obey God, an angel of the Lord appears and stays his hand. A ram, caught in some bushes, is provided as the substitute sacrifice. This is just one of many examples in Scripture of this foreshadowing and promise of a coming substitute.

What you and I need to understand, as part of this orthodox theology about substitution, is that for it to work, Jesus Christ, as that sacrifice, had to meet certain conditions. He had to be sinless. Just as animal sacrifices had to be unblemished, Jesus had to be without sin Himself. Otherwise, He could not stand as a substitute because, as a sinner, He would need a sacrifice for Himself. So, He had to be an innocent, perfect sacrifice. He also needed to die—the wages of sin is death. If He was to be a substitute, He had to take on the punishment we deserve. And to die, He needed to live a real, earthly, human life. In other words, He couldn’t just hop into a simulator and pretend to go through the motions without facing the challenges, consequences, or difficulties. This is emphasized repeatedly in Scripture. For example, in Hebrews 4:15 and following, we read: “For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin.” The writer of Hebrews helps us understand that Jesus, as our great high priest who is also the sacrifice, didn’t just simulate life on earth—He experienced it in exactly the same way we do. In John 1:14, John says: “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen His glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth.” Let me give you one more example, from Philippians 2:5–8: “Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, who, though He was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied Himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, He humbled Himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.” It had to be real. He lived the same kind of life that people like you and I live. He couldn’t just simulate it.

In the passage we’re looking at this morning, Mark 14:26–42, we see Jesus with His disciples. They go from the upper room across the Kidron Valley to the Garden of Gethsemane on the Mount of Olives. It’s the night of Jesus’ betrayal, and in this event, we see, in a humbling way, Jesus demonstrating the reality that He is living a real life here on earth. It was no simulation. The pain is real. The struggles are real. The dangers are real. Let’s read Mark 14:26–42:

“And when they had sung a hymn, they went out to the Mount of Olives. And Jesus said to them, ‘You will all fall away, for it is written, “I will strike the shepherd, and the sheep will be scattered.” But after I am raised up, I will go before you to Galilee.’ Peter said to Him, ‘Even though they all fall away, I will not.’ And Jesus said to him, ‘Truly, I tell you, this very night, before the rooster crows twice, you will deny Me three times.’ But he said emphatically, ‘If I must die with you, I will not deny you.’ And they all said the same. And they went to a place called Gethsemane. And He said to His disciples, ‘Sit here while I pray.’ And He took with Him Peter and James and John, and began to be greatly distressed and troubled. And He said to them, ‘My soul is very sorrowful, even to death. Remain here and watch.’ And going a little farther, He fell on the ground and prayed that, if it were possible, the hour might pass from Him. And He said, ‘Abba, Father, all things are possible for You. Remove this cup from Me. Yet not what I will, but what You will.’ And He came and found them sleeping and said to Peter, ‘Simon, are you asleep? Could you not watch one hour? Watch and pray that you may not enter into temptation. The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.’ And again He went away and prayed, saying the same words. And again He came and found them sleeping, for their eyes were very heavy, and they did not know what to answer Him. And He came the third time and said to them, ‘Are you still sleeping and taking your rest? It is enough; the hour has come. The Son of Man is betrayed into the hands of sinners. Rise, let us be going; see, My betrayer is at hand.’”

As I’ve mentioned several times, we’re getting closer and closer to the cross. The pressure and reality of what Christ is about to endure are growing heavier. The reality is becoming more vivid as we see exactly what He will face. In the moments leading up to it, there are helpful interactions between Jesus and His disciples. As they make their way from Jerusalem across the valley to the Mount of Olives, Jesus lets them know what’s going to happen. What we see isn’t comedy, because it’s not funny, nor is it tragedy, because we know how things will end. But it should serve as a warning to all of us: the weak insist they are strong, often with great confidence. This is one of the greatest dangers of spiritual weakness—we can be so self-deceived about our own spiritual resilience.

Jesus, the one who performed miracles, taught with authority, and revealed power that only God possesses—like calming storms on the Sea of Galilee, leaving His disciples marveling, “Who is this that even the wind and waves obey Him?”—tells them they will all fall away. They will lose their courage and wither when the danger of being associated with Him becomes too great. Despite knowing His power and authority, and believing in Him to some degree, they insist it won’t happen. “No way, Jesus, we’re not going to fall away.” Jesus goes further, pointing out that this was prophesied in Zechariah 13:7: “Strike the shepherd, and the sheep will scatter.” He tells them, “This prophecy is about you. When I’m arrested, put on trial, and killed, you will respond by abandoning Me.” He’s saying, “You are weak. You won’t be able to stand up to the pressures of hostility toward Me tonight. Soldiers and powerful religious leaders will be involved, and you will abandon Me like a dog on the Fourth of July—tough during the day, but hiding under the bed when the fireworks start.” The word “all” keeps coming up through verse 31: “You will all fall away.” Every one of them. Peter responds, “Though they all fall away, I won’t,” which is astonishing because he’s claiming such strength that neither arrest, the threat of death, nor peer pressure from his fellow disciples will faze him. He asserts moral superiority over them all. Just hours earlier, in the upper room, when Jesus said, “One of you will betray Me,” they all asked, “Is it I?” Yet it doesn’t take long for them to say, “Not me!” Peter’s name stands out, but verse 31 notes that they all said the same thing. They’re so weak, yet so confident in their strength.

We should see ourselves in these disciples and heed the warning. The danger of spiritual weakness is that it deludes us into believing we are strong, able to face Satan’s fiery darts with our own willpower. We think we can stand up to torture, death, hostility, or abuse. What could be more dangerous than a weak person entering a fight that would challenge even the strongest? These disciples think they’re stronger than they are, and that’s a huge danger for any believer. Looking at past successes—resisting temptation, persisting in prayer, or studying Scripture—can lead us to say, “I’ve got this under control. I’m strong. Nothing can faze me.” That’s exactly where Satan wants us: believing we’re unbreakable. This leads us to Jesus’ response in this moment, where we see that the strongest are honest about the struggle.

Contrast the disciples’ self-confidence with Jesus’ great struggle in the Garden of Gethsemane. He knows what lies ahead: horrendous physical torture, unimaginable pain, and death. The cross was a form of psychological intimidation used by Rome to enforce compliance—it was a horrific death. But even more troubling than the physical agony was the infinite wrath of God that would be poured out on Him as punishment for sins. He is greatly distressed and troubled, words that likely don’t fully capture the strain He’s under. He says His soul is sorrowful to the point of death—not that He’s suicidal, but that a simple death would be more bearable than what He’s about to endure.

Some argue that if Jesus is God, He couldn’t agonize, suffer, or die, or say, “Not My will, but Yours.” This is a common objection from those who deny Christ’s deity, such as Muslim apologists, who argue that God cannot die or suffer, or that God the Father and God the Son cannot have differing wills. What we see in Gethsemane is one side of Jesus’ dual nature, a foundational element of Christian orthodoxy: Jesus is fully human and fully God. In the incarnation, He took on human flesh and blood. His expressions in Gethsemane highlight the reality that He truly entered the world as flesh and blood. The pain and death were real, not simulated. His divine nature does not die, but His human nature endures the true punishment for sins. J.I. Packer puts it well: “His human experience is such as to guarantee that in every moment of demand and pressure in our relationship and walk with God, we may go to Him confident that in some sense He has been there before us and is the helper we need Him to be. The incarnation means that the Son of God lived His divine-human life in and through His human mind and body at every point, maximizing His identification and empathy with those He had come to save.”

We must come to terms with this, as we are often far too casual about sin and its consequences. Jesus’ agony in Gethsemane shows what He endured as our substitute for the consequences of sin against a holy God. For believers to be casual about sin diminishes and almost mocks what Jesus is crying out to the Father about. For unbelievers, dismissing the Bible’s warnings about the eternal consequences of sin shows a failure to grasp what it will mean to stand before God and account for sin and rejection of Jesus. Christ’s agony is for those redeemed by His blood, but those who reject Him will face the reality He agonizes over. Yet the gospel says He took those sins upon Himself, and for those who believe, we can rejoice that the punishment we deserve has been poured out on Jesus, and in exchange, God has given us His righteousness. When we stand before Him in judgment, we will be clothed in Christ’s righteousness, not our filthy rags. All who believe and trust in Christ’s work will be saved.

For these weak disciples who think they’re strong, there’s a key to how we, who are weak, can be strong. Their weakness is almost comically evident—they can’t even stay awake. They’re so confident they’ll stand against opposition, yet they can’t keep their eyes open to pray with Jesus. He tells them to “watch,” meaning to stay awake and be alert, like a night watchman paid to stay vigilant. Jesus wants them to pray with and for Him and to be alert to approaching temptations. He acknowledges their willing spirit but warns that their flesh is weak. When true temptation comes, their sinful flesh will cave easily. This is the danger of relying on our own strength in our weakness. Paul, in 2 Corinthians 12, says, “But He said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” If we rely on God’s strength in our weakness, we can be strong. But if we try to gut it out on our own, we’ll be broken every time.

Weak Christians are lazy in prayer, while stronger faith leads to greater dependence on prayer. Jesus points them to the key: “Watch and pray.” Be dependent on God, not confident in your own resilience. Martin Luther, when asked about his plans, said, “Work, work, work from early morning to late night. In fact, I have so much to do that I must spend the first three hours of the day in prayer.” This counters our instinct to rely on our own efforts. John Piper notes, “One of the greatest uses of Twitter and Facebook will be to prove on that last day that prayerlessness was not from lack of time.” Jesus asks, “Could you not watch one hour?” An hour of prayer might seem long to us, but in Jesus’ time, it was a short amount of time. Consider evaluating your prayer life—its quantity, quality, duration, and distractions. Are you watchful, with spiritual eyes open to temptations, or are you blindsided? Be watchful and prayerful.

Cling to the cross. The Garden of Gethsemane shows how real and painful the cross was for Christ. Reflecting on His suffering—whether through a crucifix or passages like this—reminds us of the torturous experience He endured for us. It was not a simulation but real suffering, death, and torment to redeem us from our sins.

Let’s pray. Dear Lord, we thank You for this raw moment where we see ourselves reflected in the overconfidence and clear physical and spiritual weakness of the disciples, who couldn’t even keep their eyes open to pray with and for You. Help us to have our eyes opened and to be alert to temptations lurking around us, rather than being cavalier about our spiritual strength. Help us to be dependent in prayer, regularly and diligently bringing our cares and the needs of others to You. Help us to be grateful for the cross You bore for our sins, so we might be clothed in Your righteousness. We ask this in Jesus’ name, Amen.