maundy thursday

"could you not wait with me for one hour?" the Lord asks, after the t.v. transformed me into a drone and i have drifted off to sleep. "watch and pray, so that you will not fall prey to temptation" of the american dream, apathy and your own small, self-centered expectations, i quickly add. "for the Spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak." weak in what way, i wonder, for it seems perfectly capable cultivating the lusts of my heart and maintaining the wall of pride that surrounds it. maybe Jesus isn't talking to me, i surmise, for it is the Spirit not the flesh that feels weak within me. if, indeed, He is within me at all.

so, rent with contradiction i remain in the garden, for it is to this place of darkness, suffering and self-doubt that the one i hesitantly call Lord has called me to go. i sit in the silence, i try to pray, i wonder whether i am the betrayer, and i fall asleep.

welcome to the garden. though i cover my face on account of failure, i am glad you are with me. please pinch me when i am tempted to slumber. please help me to watch and pray.