If He Asked For an Hour, Would You Give It?

As I study the final days of our Savior’s life, I'm always stunned into self-examination by His sacrifice and selflessness. How could someone so good endure something so bad for someone so… consistently disappointing? Each time I dive into those final stories and memories that His disciples wrote about Him, I’m filled with wonder and awe at what He did and who He believes I can be: who He died for me to become. 

But truthfully, there’s one story that bothers me. 

Elder Holland describes those agonizing moments in the Garden of Gethsemane beautifully, and yet, something really bothers me.

“He ventured into the Garden of Gethsemane alone. He pled with the Father to let this crushing, brutal cup pass from Him. But, of course, it could not pass. Returning from such anguished prayer, He found His three chief disciples asleep, prompting Him to ask, “Could ye not watch with me one hour?”’

Could ye not watch one hour?

One hour?

If the Savior were relying on me to keep watch, support Him, and love Him for one measly hour, could I do it? Would I do it?

I’ve agonized over the possibility. I’ve wrestled with the desire to be the best disciple I can be, while also acknowledging how selfish, lazy, and proud I am sometimes. And with all that pride and rebellion, would I watch with Him for one hour?

Obviously, Christ had to be alone. He needed to know what it feels like to be cut off from absolutely everyone, including God. If He didn’t, His atonement wouldn’t be complete, infinite, or all-encompassing. He wouldn’t know us, not really.

So yes, Christ may have had to spend the last week of His life watching as His dwindling support system eventually disappeared altogether. He may have, by necessity, been beaten, bruised, and bullied. He may have had to endure tremendous pain and anguish, entirely and utterly alone. But not anymore. I’m determined that when the hour comes that Christ needs me most, I will be there with Him; despite my pride, doubts, or shortcomings.

This week, some two thousand years ago, changed the course of our lives. It wasn’t simply the week Christ atoned for the sins of the world. It was the week He atoned for my sins — for your sins. It was the week he made it possible for my family to live again, together with Him, for eternity. It was the week He saved your family too.

This week was never about Him. It was always about me, and you, and all of us. 

I’m quite certain that Jesus Christ, in the depths of his despair, thought of us, of the Father, and of how sorrowful He’d be if we couldn’t even have the choice to return home to Him. 

We celebrate Christ this week — and we should. But let’s not forget that in the last week of His life, He was celebrating us. He was loving us. He was serving us. And if the one week that changed the history of the entire world was actually all about us, then honestly, I should be far more willing to make every other week, day, and hour about Him.