The Second Garden

May 6 2025 - Eric Buresh

And He was withdrawn from them about a stone’s throw, and He knelt down and prayed, saying, ‘Father, if it is Your will, take this cup away from Me; nevertheless not My will, but Yours, be done.’ Luke 22:41–42 (NKJV) 

There have been two great gardens. The first was Eden, where man rebelled against God. The second was Gethsemane, where Jesus submitted Himself to God for man. 

In the first garden, Adam said, “Not Your will, but mine be done,” and with that defiance, he plunged all creation into ruin. In the second garden, Christ—the last Adam—fell on His knees, drenched in sweat and sorrow, and said, “Not My will, but Yours be done,” and with that surrender, He opened the gates of paradise in God’s presence once more. 

I love the artistry of this holy reversal! The curse was born in Eden, but it was broken in Gethsemane. The tree of rebellion bore bitter fruit, but the tree of the cross—planted in the soil of Gethsemane’s surrender—brought forth the fruit of eternal life. 

Look at Jesus. Behold the Son of God in the dust of that dreadful garden. Angels had to strengthen Him, yet He was the One who had made the angels. The weight of sin—your sin—pressed Him to the ground. His soul was sorrowful unto death, yet He did not turn away. He prayed, “Father, if it is Your will, take this cup away from Me.” There is no hypocrisy here, no false piety—only honesty, holy and trembling. 

But then comes the prayer that saves the world:
“Nevertheless, not My will, but Yours, be done.” 

This is the victory of Gethsemane. This is where the battle was won before the nails ever pierced His hands. Not in Pilate’s hall, not on Calvary’s hill, but in the garden—where the will of Christ aligned fully with the will of the Father. 

As we long to be more like Him, what do we learn from this sacred scene? 

We learn that true prayer is not the manipulation of heaven to fulfill the desires of earth. It is the surrender of earth to the wisdom of heaven. It is not “God, bless my plan,” but “God, bury my plan if it’s not Yours.” 

Too often we come to prayer like merchants presenting terms. We want the cup removed, the pain spared, the road made easy. But let us kneel beside Christ in the garden and say, “Father, not what I will, but what You will.” His will is the Way. His will is the Life. To do the will of God is not to be defeated—it is to be delivered. 

Let us be honest in our petitions just as Christ was honest. He did not pretend to desire the cross, but He did desire the Father’s will more. And so must we. For in that surrender lies strength. In that yielding lies joy. In that agony lies true peace. 

Gethsemane calls not with blood-stained stones and olive branches, but with a cross-shaped question: 

Will you trust your Father’s will? 
May our hearts echo the cry of our Savior—not reluctantly, but faithfully: 
“Not my will, but Yours be done.”