By Aubrey Beauchamp —
What happened to Jesus’ disciples after He was arrested in the Garden of Gethsemane? Scared, confused and bewildered, they fled the scene and went into hiding. Six hours later, Jesus was crucified. What happened to the disciples during those six hours?
Perhaps it went something like this:
The night was dark and chilly, the narrow streets of Bethany deserted, its citizens sound asleep. At a gate a dog woke up, sniffed the air, and barked.
Silently, a small band of men rounded the corner, voices muffled, heads down. A stocky, broad-shouldered man knocked at the gate. When there was no answer he knocked again, a little louder. After several minutes, the gate opened slightly.
“Who’s there?” a woman asked.
“Martha, it’s me, Matthew,” the man whispered. “Can we come in?”
The gate squeaked open. A slender woman, dressed in a linen robe, let the men in. In the darkness, she tried to see their faces.
“What happened? Why are you’re here in the middle of the night?” she asked anxiously. Silently, the men entered the courtyard where the embers of a smoldering fire were still glowing.
Their entrance had not gone unnoticed and soon two more figures entered the courtyard. They were Lazarus, Martha’s brother aroused from a sound sleep, and his sister, Mary.
Martha led the way to a room upstairs. She lit a lamp and bid the men to be seated. There was John, James, Thomas and the others, all disciples of her beloved friend and master, Jesus of Nazareth. They looked disheveled, confused and deeply worried.
“What happened?” she asked again.
John finally spoke. His voice was strained.
“The Master had taken us to a room to have the Passover meal. He spoke of many strange things – about suffering and Him going away to a place where we could not follow…” his voice trailed off as he tried to recall the details.
Thomas took over and recounted the events of the foot washing, of the Master’s statement that’ someone among them would betray Him.”
“Betray Him?” Lazarus was incredulous.
“Yes,” John continued, “then we walked over to the Mount of Olives and the Garden of Gethsemane. The Master asked us to watch with Him as He prayed. He took Peter, James and me a little further and seemed in great distress but…”, his voice trailed off.
“We fell asleep,” James finished the sentence. “Several times the Lord had to wake us up.” His voice broke.
“Why was the Lord in such agony?” Mary asked softly.
“We’re not sure,” James said. “He prayed that ‘this cup may pass from Him’. He must have known that something terrible was about to happen.”
“What did happen?” Mary persisted.
“Suddenly,” John continued, “we were surrounded by soldiers and police. They came with torches and a whole gang of rebel-rousers, swinging sticks and clubs and guess what? Judas was with them!”
“Judas!” they echoed together.
“Yes, Judas. Now we know who the Lord had in mind when He said someone would betray Him.”
“I never trusted him,” Andrew suddenly spoke up. There was anger in his voice. He rose to his feet and began pacing the floor.
“What happened next?” Lazarus was getting back to the point.
“The Lord asked the soldiers who they were looking for,” James took over again. “I’m sure He knew they were looking for Him. He said it was all in fulfillment of what the prophets had said. He asked them why they had not arrested Him in the temple. Peter put up a good fight. He slashed at one of the men and cut off his ear. But the Master told Peter to put his sword away. Then He reached out His hand and healed the man’s ear. He told the soldiers to let us go. Then they arrested Him, tied His hands and let Him away to Annas.”
“They took Him to Annas’ palace in the middle of the night?” Martha asked aghast.
“It was all prearranged, I think,” Matthew said.
“Then what happened?” Mary pressed.
For a moment no one answered. Only the shrill whirring of the locusts in the sycamore tree broke the silence. Finally, John spoke, his voice barely above a whisper, “We fled,” he admitted, “We all fled and came here.”
For a moment no one spoke, then Thomas’ voice, hoarse and raspy from lack of sleep and utter frustration, blurted,
“Why? Why, if He is indeed Messiah, why did He let Himself be arrested and taken to the Hight Priest like a common thief?”
No one answered.
Looking around the somber group, Martha missed a familiar face.
“Where is Peter?” she asked.
“He and his friend Jonathan followed the mob,” John spoke up, “but at a safe distance.”
As if on cue, the dog near the gate barked again. Someone was knocking. Martha hurried down and reappeared a few moments later with Peter. In the early daylight his face was ashen, his shoulders drooped, and despair marked his countenance. In his usually dark, intense eyes was an almost vacant stare.
“Peter! What happened?” John asked.
With a sudden deep and heaving sob, Peter broke down and cried,
“I denied the Lord! Just as He said I would. I denied Him three times!”
He sank down on the floor, covered his head with both hands and rocked back and forth. Mary gently put her arm around his heaving shoulders.
“Peter,” she whispered, “please tell us – what happened to the Lord?
With great effort, Peter composed himself. He slightly lifted his head and said,
“I followed the crowd with Johnathan. When we came to Annas palace, I got through the gate since they knew Jonathan. Some women near the gate recognized me and asked questions. I was scared and said I did not know Him. It was cold and there was a big fire in the courtyard. We all huddled around it to stay warm. I watched the Lord from a distance. It was unbelievable what they did to Him.”
His voice broke down again in a deep sob.
“The had many false witnesses lined up. They mocked Him, took His robe off, blindfolded Him and spat on Him, but He never said a word. He just stood there.”
Then one of the men near the fire also recognized me,” Peter continued, “but again, I was afraid and said I did not know the Man. Finally, they took the Master to Caiaphas, the High Priest and we all followed. I ran into the soldier whose ear I had slashed off. He recognized me immediately. This time I swore I had never met the Master before.”
“Then,” Peter’s voice became whisper, “A rooster crowded and the Master turned His head and looked at me. His face was bloody and dirty and His eye… oh, His eyes. I couldn’t stand it,” Peter cried. “How could I have been such a coward?
“So, you don’t know what was decided then?” Lazarus pressed.
“Yes, they took the Master to Pilate’s judgement hall.”
“At this hour?!” Martha exclaimed.
“They sentenced Him to death. He will be crucified today.”
“No!” Martha screamed. “No! It can’t be! Why? What has He done?!”
“Did Pilate convict Him?” James was as shocked as the others. “On what grounds?”
“On my way here I saw Jonathan again,” Peter continued in a dull voice. “He said Pilate wasn’t convinced of the Lord’s guilt, but the mob went wild. They pressed him to release Barabbas, that convicted murderer and have our Lord crucified instead. He finally gave in.”
There was a shocked and hushed silence. Finally, Martha spoke up.
“We have to go,” she said. “No matter what happens, we can’t stay here and hide.”
“Yes,” John agreed, “and we need to find Mary, the Master’s mother. She needs us now.”
Slowly, they filed out of the room towards the now bustling dusty village road. Daybreak had come. Word of the crucifixion had spread throughout Bethany and many were hurrying towards Jerusalem.
“This,” Peter said to John, “is the worst day of my life. Somehow, I know that things will never be the same again after today.”
“Yes,” John agreed, “I feel the same way. But let’s not fail the Lord again and desert Him”
Then he put his arm around Peter’s shoulder and said,
“Come, let’s go.”
(This was an assignment for a Creative Writing class in 1988, led by Jamie Buckingham (Tramp for the Lord, etc.) and Peter Marshall (Catherine Marshall’s son).
