IT HAD BEEN a tumultuous week and an emotionally exhausting evening. On Palm Sunday, the disciples had been jubilant over Jesus’ reception in Jerusalem. With their shouts of Hosanna!, the crowds proclaimed what the Twelve already knew: this man was the long-awaited Messiah, the Son of David who would free God’s people from foreign oppression. In the days that followed, Jesus demonstrated his authority over the Jewish leaders in Jerusalem as he repeatedly bested them in public debate, forcing them to withdraw in embarrassed silence. And by the end of the week, the disciples were looking forward to sharing the Passover meal with their Master.

But the meal didn’t go as they had expected. They were shocked when Jesus took the role of a lowly servant to wash their feet. They despaired as he announced that he was leaving them to return to the Father, though he tried to reassure them that they wouldn’t be left as spiritual orphans. And they were stunned when he announced that they would all fall away that night, even stalwart Peter, who would deny him three times.

Try to imagine yourself as one of the disciples. Would you have been able to take it all in stride? Would you have been able to calmly say, “Right, Jesus, thanks for letting us know,” and ask what was next on the agenda? And if not, what would have been your physical and emotional state as you left the Upper Room on the way to the Mount of Olives and the garden of Gethsemane?

We have to give the disciples some grace, I think, for falling asleep in the garden as Jesus prayed.

When they arrived at Gethsemane, Jesus drew Peter, James, and John aside and told them: “My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death. Stay here and keep watch with me” (Matt 26:38, NIV). He went a little way farther, fell to the ground, and prayed earnestly that his Father might grant him some alternative to the cross.

When he came back, however, his friends were asleep. “Couldn’t you men keep watch with me for one hour?” he asked. “Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak” (vs. 41).

Yes, it was a bit of a scolding. But I imagine Jesus saying this gently, compassion mixed with his frustration. He knew about the weakness of the flesh, and was himself praying that his readiness to do the Father’s will would not be hampered by his own resistance.

. . .

WATCH AND PRAY, Jesus said. He isn’t just telling Peter and the others not to fall asleep. Knowing what was about to take place in the garden, knowing that his arrest and crucifixion were at hand, Jesus wanted his disciples to be vigilant and alert.

It’s the same verb that Paul would later use in his closing words to the Colossians:

Devote yourselves to prayer, being watchful and thankful. And pray for us, too, that God may open a door for our message, so that we may proclaim the mystery of Christ, for which I am in chains. Pray that I may proclaim it clearly, as I should. (Col 4:2-4)

It’s not surprising, of course, that Paul would ask for their prayers. When he says “pray for us,” he may mean himself and Timothy — but Paul obviously would have welcomed their prayers for everyone around him whom he considered partners in the work of the gospel, people he would mention by name shortly.

He seems particularly conscious, though, of his own status as a prisoner and his calling to use that as an opportunity to spread the gospel. Again, scholars are divided on the location of Paul’s imprisonment: was it Ephesus, Rome, or somewhere else? If Paul was in Rome, that opportunity would have had special significance, for it meant being a witness to Caesar’s very household (cf. Phil 4:22) as he awaited trial.

Paul knows that, as an apostle, he has been commissioned to “proclaim the mystery of Christ.” That’s the language he used near the end of chapter 1 to describe the gospel: a divine mystery long kept secret and now revealed in Jesus (1:26-27). And as translated in the New International Version, he asks the Colossians to pray that he would “proclaim [the mystery of the gospel] clearly.”

What that translation obscures, however, is that Paul has already used that verb three times in the letter. The first time, the NIV translates it as referring to the disclosure of the divine mystery (1:26). Then he uses it twice in Colossians 3:4 to refer to appearance of Christ at his return, and our appearance with him in glory. The verb, in other words, suggests taking something that was previously hidden and revealing it or making it visible in some way. Paul isn’t asking the Colossians to pray that he’d get the words right; he’s asking them to pray that he would rightly fulfill his commission by making the divine mystery manifest in his preaching.

Meanwhile, as the Colossians devote themselves to prayer, he counsels them to be “watchful and thankful.” Given the religious teachings circulating in Colossae that threatened to weaken their grip on the gospel, it makes sense that he would warn them to be watchful.

But he pairs this with the command to be thankful. In saying this, he’s circling back to what he said before giving them the moral instructions for transforming their households: with shalom ruling their hearts, as the gospel transforms their relationships with one another as a church, they are to do everything in the name of Jesus, “giving thanks to God the Father through him” (Col 3:17).

He’s calling them, in other words, not just to watch for trouble or temptation, but for reasons to be thankful. It’s part of what it means to live out of the new nature created for them in Christ — and for us.

. . .

WHEN WE PRAY with and for one another, what do we pray? Much of it is asking God’s help with some trial or difficulty. But these should also be prayers of gratitude — not just because God answered our prayers in the way we wanted, but because we see his grace and mercy everywhere. Sometimes, we have to learn to see it and help each other to see it. So, let’s keep watch, and pray — and find reasons for gratitude even in places we didn’t expect.