You know, I don't think He was a bit surprised to find them like that. When Jesus returned, wiping beads of blood-sweat from his forehead, I doubt He was shocked that they would be so weak-willed as to let sleep rob them of the prayer they needed so much more than any physical refreshment. I don't think he was surprised, either, when Peter slashed the servant's ear off. Or that Judas did what he did, realizing only too late that it wasn't even what he really wanted. Nor do I think Jesus was surprised that all of His disciples fled from Him that night, deserting Him to a terrible fate. I would have fled. Wouldn't you have?
And poor Peter. "No, I really don't know Him!" he screams for the third time, throwing some of the dirty language from his old life in as well. Immediately, the rooster crows. And though Jesus is too far away to really make out, Peter can feel his gaze. It breaks Peter's heart. He feels his insides descend into excruciating sadness as he realizes the one thing he swore he'd never do has already happened, and he can't take it back.
But Jesus wasn't surprised.
He knew. He knew that, as followers go, His disciples weren't necessarily the most qualified. But He chose them anyway. He chose Peter. He chose Judus.
It doesn't surprise Him when we mess up. But it does surprise us. And I think that's what He wants to happen. He wants us to be surprised so that we will finally see what He already knew: we aren't naturally good; we need Him. He is faithful and committed to us. He is not surprised at the sinful things we do. "The spirit is willing, but the body is weak," He says. He knows when we're going to mess up and fail. But he continues to love us when our image of ourselves having it all together is shattered to our surprise; He continues to love us into Truth. We can either deny the surprise and stay stubbornly (but falsely) self-righteous. We can pretend to be good people, though actually filthy. Or, we can accept the surprise, let go of pride, and know God.
What would it be like to see myself this way? Even others? What would it be like to see ourselves as Jesus does? Not surprised at corruption and sin, but saddened by it? Not condemning, but compassionate and encouraging and hopeful, urging ourselves onward to becoming the best version of ourselves, with His help, in Him? What would it be like to let Him love us into Truth, passing on, then, that love to others? Because God knows we all need healing, we all need grace, and we all need another chance. From Him. From each other. From ourselves.
We goof things up all the time. But in reality, it's no surprise. Not for Jesus anyway. He loves us, regardless. And that's where our life is, if we let Him override the surprise of our fallenness with the surprise of His goodness. Out of the two, the latter is the greater surprise. We just rarely get there because we can't get over the fact that we can't get it right. And He says,
"It's okay.
I know.
Let me.
Here,
I have something for you."
He opens His hands, and they overflow with light as His dreams for us and His love for us and His eternal, unending blessings pour into our weary souls. As we stand there gaping from the awe and wonder and shock of it all, He smiles, and tears flow from His eyes, echoing the streams flowing from our own.
And He whispers,
"Surprise!"
