Church Bulletin Week 13

The Mighty Power of His Love

“And being in an agony he prayed more earnestly: and his sweat was as it were great drops of blood falling down to the ground.” — Luke 22:44

The mental pressure arising from our Lord’s struggle with temptation, so forced his frame to an unnatural excitement, that his pores sent forth great drops of blood which fell down to the ground. This proves how tremendous must have been the weight of sin when it was able to crush the Savior, so that he distilled great drops of blood!

This demonstrates the mighty power of his love. It is a very pretty observation of old Isaac Ambrose that the gum which exudes from the tree without cutting is always the best. This precious camphire-tree yielded most sweet spices when it was wounded under the knotty whips, and when it was pierced by the nails on the cross; but see, it gives forth its best spice when there is no whip, no nail, no wound.

This sets forth the voluntariness of Christ’s sufferings, since without a lance, the blood flowed freely. No need to put on the leech, or apply the knife; it flows spontaneously. No need for the rulers to cry, “Spring up, O well;” of itself it flows in crimson torrents. If men suffer great pain of mind, apparently the blood rushes to the heart. The cheeks are pale; a fainting fit comes on; the blood has gone inward as if to nourish the inner man while passing through its trial. But see our Savior in His agony; He is so utterly oblivious of self, that instead of his agony driving His blood to the heart to nourish himself, it drives it outward to bedew the earth.

The agony of Christ, inasmuch as it pours him out upon the ground, pictures the fullness of the offering, which he made for men. Do we not perceive how intense must have been the wrestling through which he passed, and will we not hear its voice to us? “You have not yet resisted unto blood, striving against sin.” Behold the great Apostle and High Priest of our profession, who sweat even to blood rather than yield to the great tempter of your souls. – C.H. Spurgeon