“Then he returned to the disciples and found them asleep. He said to Peter, ‘Couldn’t you watch with me even one hour? Keep watch and pray, so that you will not give in to temptation. For the spirit is willing, but the body is weak!’” Matthew 26:40–41
I love how Scripture meets us differently in every season. As Easter approaches and I sit with this passage, I realize I am not reading it as a commentary on the disciples. I am reading it as a mirror.
When Jesus returned and found them sleeping, He did not explode in anger. He did not shame them. He named the tension clearly: the spirit is willing, but the body is weak. There is compassion in that statement. There is truth in it. There is leadership in it.
And that’s what arrests me.
Because if I am honest, I can be strong and self-contained. I speak directly. I process quickly. I learn fast. I can articulate my thoughts clearly. But what I don’t always do is articulate my need.
I can be surrounded by friends and still carry disappointment silently. I can need support and never say it. I can long for someone to “watch with me,” but never make the invitation explicit.
Part of that is personality. Part of that is upbringing. Part of that is learning to be resilient without maternal cushioning. Over time, strength can become independence, and independence can become isolation even when you don’t mean for it to.
What moves me about Jesus in this moment is not only that He asked for support it’s that He was specific. He didn’t take all twelve. He took three. He knew who could come closer. He knew what He needed. And when they failed, He used the moment to teach, not to wound.
That challenges me.
Do I know who my “three” are? Do I ask them to watch with me? Do I communicate my needs, or do I expect others to read my silence? Do I extend grace when others are weak the way Jesus did?
Relationships require courage. The courage to speak. The courage not to take everything personally. The courage to accept that even willing hearts can fail in execution. Jesus models something profound here: vulnerability without bitterness.
So my prayer is simple but deep. Lord, teach me how to walk relationally the way You did. Teach me how to identify my three. Teach me how to ask. Teach me how to stay soft.
And help me build rhythms of prayer with the people You assign to walk closely with me.
Wells of Wonder 