Oasis Light    |    綠洲亮光

If you already knew which path God wanted you to take, but that path might lead to loss, pain, or even being misunderstood—would you still choose to obey?

Sometimes, we actually know God’s heart, yet we are unwilling to submit. Not because of a lack of faith, but because that path is simply—too hard.

It might mean laying down your own plans, walking a path that seems irrational, or moving forward even when you know clearly there is a price to pay. In the midst of such a struggle, the words "Father, not my will, but Yours be done" are no longer easy to say.

These words were spoken on the night Jesus was betrayed—on the Mount of Olives, a stone’s throw away from His disciples, in a solitary prayer to the Father. Luke 22:42 records: 

"Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but yours be done." 

As a man of flesh and blood, Jesus did not want to drink this cup. He knew what lay ahead—betrayal, humiliation, torture, agony, abandonment, the lonely burden of being misunderstood, and the silent walk toward death. It was a path where the known end was death. Moreover, it was a death for those who were undeserving, who did not understand, and even for the sinners who would nail Him there with their own hands.

Yet, this path of the cross was the only way of life for sinners. Ever since the Law was given, humanity has been trapped within an unachievable standard. We live under the pressure of "having to be good enough," only to find we simply cannot do it. The more we struggle, the more we feel suffocated.

Therefore, Jesus had to pay the price for sin—death—to fulfill the Law. This was so that we, who are exhausted and spent, could find hope for life in Him, through His obedience, laying down the burdens we have carried for so long.

So, when Jesus laid down His own will before the Father and chose to take the cup—to let the Father’s will be done—it was because the Father’s purpose was to save humanity. It was to restore the relationship between God and man, between the Creator and the created: He would be our God, and we would be His people.

For those who believe in Him, this obedience of Jesus brings the lightness of a "debt fully paid." He brings us back to God, restoring that original, long-lost intimacy.

Anyone who has tried knows that obedience is never sustained by human willpower alone. After Jesus made that agonizing yet firm choice, the Scripture records:

"An angel from heaven appeared to him and strengthened him."

This tells us that while obedience is difficult, God Himself will surely sustain us.

Does this obedience belong only to the Son of God? Or does it also come to each of us? Jesus was not the only one to walk this path.

Mary was the same. In the most ordinary stage of her life, she had her own plans, her daily routines, and her future. Yet it was then that she was called by God. As an unmarried young woman, she was to conceive and bear a son. In that era, this was not only difficult to understand but meant misunderstanding, judgment, and even rejection. She could not have been without struggle. Yet she said: "May it be to me according to your word." Obedience often does not happen when we are "ready," but at the moment we are willing to surrender our sovereignty.

Joseph was the same. When he discovered his fiancée was pregnant, he had his own intentions. Yet when an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream, telling him to take Mary as his wife, the Bible records no argument or struggle from him, but only his action: "When Joseph woke up, he did what the angel of the Lord had commanded him."

John the Baptist was the same. He had once declared: "He must increase, but I must decrease." Yet in the depths of a prison cell, he sent word to ask Jesus: "Are you the one who is to come?" Perhaps in his heart, there was a longing and expectation—if Jesus truly was the Messiah, would He rescue him from behind these iron bars? Yet, he received his answer and still walked toward his execution. The ultimate obedience is this: even if God does not save me in the way I expect, I still acknowledge that He is Lord. This is a life that is no longer self-centered, but lets the Lord be Lord.

I know a sister whose greatest struggle after coming to faith was the moment her own decisions conflicted with God’s will. Should she obey, or act according to her own understanding? She didn’t understand why God’s will was this way; to her, that path seemed completely impassable. That moment of choice was an immense trial. "Father, not my will, but Yours be done" was not an easy sentence to utter. Thanks be to the Lord, she finally chose to obey.

At the very moment she let go of that decision—a profound silence filled the room. Those things that had long bound her and entangled her seemed to shatter in that instant. An unexpected lightness descended upon her.

At first, she didn’t understand immediately; the path still felt difficult. But slowly, she began to see, bit by bit, what God was doing. She thought she was losing something, only to discover that God was leading her into a place she could never have entered on her own.

In this season of Lent, we return once more to Jesus’ path to the cross. Perhaps at this moment, you are standing before a choice—you know God’s will, but you are still struggling.

Are you willing to say: "Father, not my will, but Yours be done"?

May we all learn to obey on this journey.