Passage 📖: Matthew 26:31-46

📺 Want to watch the full teaching on YouTube? Click here to view the Oct 11th, 2025 Lesson.

🎧 Want to listen to the full teaching on Spotify? Click here to hear the Oct 11th, 2025 Lesson.

📢 KNGDOM Announcements:

👋 Introduction to Today’s Lesson

Hey Friends, 

I’d want us all to imagine that we just had one of the best moments with one of the people we love the most —

and as that moment was coming to a close, they told you they were about to die…

and that before they did, you’d deny them, betray them, and leave them to die alone?

How would you even process that?

How confused would you feel?

That’s the setting of our story today.

The meal is over.

The festivities have come to an end.

And Jesus leads His disciples into the night —

not to teach them more truth…

but to show them the depths of His love.

Today’s lesson gives us a front-row seat into the fragility of human will —

and the One who sees our weakness…

and stays anyway.

Let’s Dive in. 

Last week, we sat at the table with Jesus during His final Passover meal — and saw how He redefined everything.

This wasn’t just bread and wine.

It was preparation.

It was invitation.

It was the beginning of a better Exodus.

Just as God gave Israel a meal the night before liberation, Jesus gave His disciples a meal before the cross — a new covenant, sealed not in lamb’s blood… but His own.

We were reminded:

And at the center of it all: a table.

Simple. Sacred. Wide enough for us all.

Missed the teaching? Click here to read or watch the full lesson.

Then Jesus said to them, “You will all fall away because of me this night. For it is written, ‘I will strike the shepherd, and the sheep of the flock will be scattered.’ But after I am raised up, I will go before you to Galilee.” Peter answered him, “Though they all fall away because of you, I will never fall away.” Jesus said to him, “Truly, I tell you, this very night, before the rooster crows, you will deny me three times.” Peter said to him, “Even if I must die with you, I will not deny you!” And all the disciples said the same.

Then Jesus went with them to a place called Gethsemane, and he said to his disciples, “Sit here, while I go over there and pray.” And taking with him Peter and the two sons of Zebedee, he began to be sorrowful and troubled. Then he said to them, “My soul is very sorrowful, even to death; remain here, and watch with me.” And going a little farther he fell on his face and prayed, saying, “My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as you will.” And he came to the disciples and found them sleeping. And he said to Peter, “So, could you not watch with me one hour? Watch and pray that you may not enter into temptation. The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.” Again, for the second time, he went away and prayed, “My Father, if this cannot pass unless I drink it, your will be done.” And again he came and found them sleeping, for their eyes were heavy. So, leaving them again, he went away and prayed for the third time, saying the same words again. Then he came to the disciples and said to them, “Sleep and take your rest later on. See, the hour is at hand, and the Son of Man is betrayed into the hands of sinners. Rise, let us be going; see, my betrayer is at hand.”

This moment begins in the Upper Room — the private space in Jerusalem where Jesus shared His final Passover meal with the disciples. The room would’ve likely been part of a larger home, possibly within the city walls, and traditionally associated with the home of John Mark’s family (see Acts 1:13).

But after the meal is over, Jesus leads His disciples out of the city.

They cross the Kidron Valley and walk into a familiar place — a garden on the Mount of Olives called Gethsemane (Matthew 26:36). The name Gethsemane means “oil press,” a place where olives were crushed to extract oil.

That symbolism matters.

Because it’s here, in the place where things are pressed, that Jesus begins to feel the spiritual weight of the cross pressing down on Him.

The Son of God — fully divine, yet fully human — steps into the dark night, knowing what’s coming.

By this point, it’s very late at night — likely well past midnight. The Passover meal would have taken place after sundown (as all Jewish days began at evening), and the conversation in the Upper Room would have lasted hours (John 13–17 gives us a glimpse of how long and deep that teaching was).

So it’s not hard to imagine:

The disciples are exhausted.

Emotionally overwhelmed.

Physically depleted.

Full from dinner.

Confused by Jesus’ cryptic warnings.

And now they’re asked to stay awake and pray.

Their sleepiness isn’t laziness — it’s very human.

But Jesus’ request wasn’t casual. It was urgent.

He had asked them to “watch and pray” — not just to be present for Him, but to guard their own hearts from temptation.

And that’s what makes their repeated sleep so tragic — it wasn’t just inattentiveness. It revealed a lack of spiritual readiness.

Three times in this passage, Jesus prays:

“Let this cup pass from Me…” (Matthew 26:39, 42, 44)

But what is the cup?

In the Old Testament, the “cup” is a metaphor — a symbol for the wrath of God, often used in contexts of judgment against sin.

Here are just a few examples:

“You shall drink the cup of His fury…”

— Isaiah 51:17

“In the hand of the Lord is a cup full of foaming wine mixed with spices; He pours it out…”

— Psalm 75:8

“Take from My hand this cup of the wine of wrath…”

— Jeremiah 25:15

So when Jesus speaks of the “cup,” He’s not just talking about suffering in general.

He’s staring into the full weight of God’s judgment for human sin — a cup that He, the sinless one, is choosing to drink in our place.

This isn’t fear of physical pain.

It’s the crushing agony of becoming the offering — of absorbing the penalty for sin on behalf of all humanity.

That’s why the pressure is so intense… and the surrender so holy.

Right before Gethsemane, Jesus looks Peter in the eye and says,

“This very night… you will deny Me three times.” (v. 34)

He wasn’t hoping Peter would hold up.

He knew he wouldn’t.

He knew Judas would betray Him.

He knew the others would scatter.

And still — He went.

He didn’t wait for perfect loyalty.

He didn’t ask for guarantees.

He chose to suffer… knowing they’d fail Him.

Why?

Because His love isn’t a reward for your faithfulness —

It’s a rescue from your failure.

The message here isn’t just about what Jesus endured —

It’s about why He did it:

He already saw your weakest moment.

And He still wanted you.

So the next time shame whispers that you’re disqualified —

Remember this moment.

He knew the denial would come.

And He said yes anyway.

In the garden, Jesus falls to the ground and prays:

“My soul is very sorrowful… if it is possible, let this cup pass from Me.”

This wasn’t polished.

It wasn’t poetic.

It was raw.

Jesus didn’t pretend He was fine.

He brought the full weight of His sorrow to the Father.

But then — He surrendered:

“Yet not as I will, but as You will.”

That’s the power of this moment.

Not that Jesus felt peace — but that He obeyed through pain.

Not that He wanted the cross — but that He trusted the Father more than His own desire to escape it.

And here’s what that means for us:

Surrender doesn’t require silence.

It just requires trust.

You don’t need to hide your grief to be faithful.

You don’t need to fake strength to walk in obedience.

Jesus held both sorrow and surrender in the same breath —

and now, through His Spirit, He gives you the power to do the same.

Not because you’re strong.

But because He is — even in your weakness.

In Gethsemane, Jesus doesn’t just ask the disciples to stay awake and support Him —

He pleads with them to pray for themselves.

“Watch and pray that you may not enter into temptation.

The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.” (v. 41)

They weren’t rebellious.

They were exhausted.

They didn’t lack love — they lacked preparation.

And that’s the warning for us.

Because most of us don’t fall in moments of rebellion.

We fall in moments of fatigue.

Of distraction.

Of spiritual un-readiness.

The disciples had good intentions.

But when the pressure hit, they scattered.

Not because they didn’t care —

but because they didn’t pray.

And if they — the ones who walked with Jesus daily — failed without prayer…

how much more do we need it?

So don’t wait until life falls apart to start praying.

Let prayer become your preparation — not your emergency escape.

Build strength before the battle.

Train your spirit before the temptation.

Because when the pressure comes…

You won’t rise to your intention —

You’ll fall to your preparation.

This wasn’t just a night of prayer.

It was a night of piercing honesty, gut-wrenching grief… and relentless love.

Jesus didn’t wait for perfect disciples.

He didn’t ask for polished prayers or unshakable loyalty.

He knew their failures in advance — and still chose the cross.

And that’s the invitation for us, too.

To come as we are:

Tired. Scattered. Uncertain.

To fall to the ground and pray anyway.

To trust even when the cup doesn’t pass.

To stop waiting for perfect conditions —

and start preparing our hearts now.

Because Jesus didn’t just model surrender…

He made it possible.

He held sorrow and obedience in the same breath —

and now He gives us the strength to do the same.

So don’t shrink back in your weakness.

You’re not disqualified by your denial.

You’re invited deeper by grace.

So don’t shrink back in your weakness.

He already saw it — and still said, “You are still worth it.”

Blessings,

Michael