Called into Gethsemane, the Oil Press of Grief

The following is a poem I wrote one night when I was completely overcome by anticipatory grief knowing the death of a beloved sister-in-law was imminent. I couldn’t even go to my Bible study that evening knowing I needed to experience and find relief for my all-consuming sorrows. I opened up the gospel accounts of Jesus in Gethsemane and there I encountered the only One who fully understood and was waiting there for me. 

Called into Gethsemane, the Oil Press of Grief

The moon shone just enough to give me a peek
Of the gate to the Garden You opened for me 
I knew this was there I most needed to be 
Where You’d welcome, receive all of my agony 

I walked towards Your voice as You beckoned me near 
You knew and Your love cast away all my fear
You knelt, then bent over, fell onto Your face 
My sobbing began in this safe sacred place 

Piercing cries to Your Father for some other way 
Grief-crushed yet You’d yield to the cross for my sake 
Surrendered, Your anguish freely heaved out 
My tears struck where Yours made the softest of ground 

There You watched and prayed for me….You. did. not. fail.
Like Your best friends who’d slept through Your own bitter wails 
The release I so needed, consoling embrace

You made Gethsemane my restorative place 

                                                  ~KD 

“Being in anguish, He prayed more fervently, and His sweat became like drops of blood falling to the ground.”~ Luke 22:44 [HCSB]