BY JOYCE PELLETIER
It’s the night of the last supper. The disciples gathered around the table, reclining having what they thought was just the end of the traveling day and it’s time for supper. The meal is spread before them.
Jesus takes the cup and shares it with them. They partake, somewhat questioning after Jesus just said in John 16:16, “In a little while you will see me no more, and then after a little while you will see me.”
Those at the table question silently in their hearts what was meant by what he just said? None of them speak a word. Yet all wondering in the silence of their hearts. What does this mean? Where is Jesus going next? He’s always going from one place to another.
In John 16:19 – 22, he says, “Are you asking one another what I meant when I said, ‘in a little while you will see me no more, and then after a little while you still see me?” I know I’d be questioning this if I were sitting there.
Soon after the meal is done, in John 17:1 He goes out to the garden to pray. Calling out, “Father the hour has come. Glorify your Son, that your Son may glorify you.” A little further, He prays, “I have revealed you to those whom you gave me out of the world. They were yours; you gave them to me and they have obeyed your Word. Now they know that everything you have given me comes from you. I gave them the words you gave me, and they accepted them. They knew with certainty that I came from you, and they believed that you sent me. I pray for them! I am not praying for the world but for those you have given me, for they are yours.”
This is one of my favorite prayers ever. When I read this, it’s so amazing to think that Jesus actually prayed for me. He personally, at his most grievous hour prayed not for himself, but for me, for you. This is a mind-boggling thought.
When I think of the times when a loved one has died and I attend their funeral and realized He prayed for them, too. Yet, at that moment, I am comforted. Why? Because of Jesus, my grief does not go unnoticed, but He stands in the middle of any situation that grieves me and give purpose and reason to what I am going through. He knows my pain, and somehow, I knew His.
Before my last spine surgery, as I went through a bone scan, I had to hold my arms above my head for 40 minutes. My tendons cried out; the bones wanted to be held up by someone so they didn’t move. I laid there in agony, gritting my teeth, yet I was not allowed to move. I started to pray, as there was nothing else I could do. Suddenly, in those difficult moments, as I prayed, I realized that He knew my pain (on the cross) and moments later, I knew His pain. That solidified my prayer and not long after they released my arms and put them by my side, until the final moments of the test was done. I felt relief beyond relief. Joy was restored and the test was done. All because Jesus prayed for me and I survived this test.