March 23

Morning

And in His anguish, He prayed more earnestly, and His sweat became like drops of blood falling to the ground. — Luke 22:44 BSB

The mental anguish our Lord endured during His struggle with temptation was so intense that it caused His body to experience unnatural stress, leading His pores to release great drops of blood that fell to the ground. This shows how overwhelming the weight of sin must have been, that it could crush the Savior to the point that He sweat blood.

This also demonstrates the immense power of His love. Isaac Ambrose once observed that the sap which flows from a tree without being cut is always the purest. Similarly, this precious tree of life gave forth sweet fragrance when struck by the whips and pierced by nails on the cross, but notice that it gave its best fragrance when there was no whip, no nail, no wound.

This reveals how willingly Christ suffered, for His blood flowed freely without any external force. No need for a lance or knife; His blood poured out spontaneously. No need for men to call out, “Spring up, O well,” for it flowed in crimson streams of its own accord. When people suffer great mental pain, their blood typically rushes to the heart, leaving them pale and faint, as if the blood were retreating to sustain the inner person through the trial. But look at our Savior in His agony—He was so utterly selfless that, instead of His blood retreating to nourish Him, it flowed outward to water the earth.

The agony of Christ, pouring Himself out upon the ground, symbolizes the completeness of the offering He made for humanity. Can we not sense the intensity of His struggle? And does it not speak to us, saying, “You have not yet resisted to the point of shedding blood in your fight against sin”? Look to the great Apostle and High Priest of our faith, who sweat even blood rather than give in to the great tempter of our souls!

Evening

“I tell you,” He answered, “if they remain silent, the very stones will cry out.” — Luke 19:40 BSB

Could the stones cry out? Surely they could—if the One who opens the mouths of the mute commanded them to speak. And if they did, they would have much to say in praise of Him who created them by the power of His Word. They would declare the wisdom and power of their Creator, who brought them into being. Shouldn’t we, then, speak well of the One who has made us new and raised children for Abraham from stones?

The ancient rocks could speak of chaos and order, of God’s craftsmanship displayed in each stage of creation. And can’t we speak of God’s decrees and His mighty works throughout history, especially what He has done for His church in ages past? If the stones could speak, they would tell of the stonecutter who took them from the quarry and made them fit for the temple. And can’t we tell of our great Breaker, who broke our hearts with the hammer of His Word, so that He could build us into His temple? If the stones cried out, they would praise their builder, who polished and shaped them into the likeness of a palace. And should we not speak of our Architect and Builder, who has placed us in the temple of the living God?

The stones could tell a long story of memorials, for many a time a great stone has been rolled into place as a reminder before the Lord. And we too can speak of Ebenezers—stones of help, pillars of remembrance.

Though the broken stones of the law cry out against us, Christ Himself, who rolled away the stone from the tomb, speaks for us. The stones might cry out, but we won’t let them. We will drown them out with our voices, breaking forth into sacred song, blessing the majesty of the Most High God. We will glorify Him all our days, the One whom Jacob called the Shepherd and Stone of Israel.