Holy Week

In the upper room on that Thursday Night, we discover that after praying, Jesus rose to His feet and asked His disciples to stand with Him to sing a doxology over their suspended, unfinished Passover meal. We read, “they sang a hymn together and went out to the Mount of Olives.” Matthew 26:30 It is suggested that Jesus led them in the traditional Passover song, Psalm 118, about how the stone the builders rejected had become the cornerstone, and how the steadfast love of the Lord endures forever.

To pause and lead His disciples in a song like this, at this particular moment, shows the strength of Jesus’ resolve to face His impending arrest and crucifixion. The Gospel accounts tell us that He started that Last Supper overwhelmed with sorrow, and that later in Gethsemane His sweat became like drops of blood. In the middle of that tension, Jesus sang of the faithfulness of God.

Sometimes I wonder why the birds sing. I've heard that it's because they're happy to see the sun again. Funny thing is, I was able to witness that the singing starts long before the sun is even visible. And yet they sing anyway. They sing in the darkness, because they know it won't stay dark forever. How do they know this?

We may not face Gethsemane, but in the darkest moments it is the song of the heart in praise of God’s faithfulness that can enliven and sustain us. When people see Joni Eareckson Tada  in her wheelchair and ask about her persistent smile, she always says, “I’ve learned to sing my way through suffering.”

She goes on to say, “Over the years, I have discovered that singing is not an option for Christ-followers; it’s a command.”

Father God, today we remember the agony of Jesus as He wept and prayed in Gethsemane. How He faced betrayal and desertion by those closest to Him. How He was mistreated, falsely accused, and beaten. How He was silent before His accusers and suffered all, to bring us life. We are humbled and full of gratitude. We are awed and full of love. We surrender all to You, in Jesus’ name. Amen.