I’ve often pictured the disciples as rock-solid. Faithful, bold, obedient. They followed Jesus so closely, after all. They saw Him walk on water, heal the sick, and feed thousands. They dropped everything to be near Him.
So it’s jarring — and honestly, kind of comforting — to read about what happened in the Garden of Gethsemane.
This was the moment Jesus had been preparing them for. He had told them that He would be handed over to suffer. That it had to happen. That it was the plan. Yet when the time came, they ran.
Some pulled out swords. Some froze. Some scattered. Some fell asleep when He needed them most. All were afraid. All were human.
Behind their actions was something we don’t often talk about when we think about the disciples: doubt.
They doubted that Jesus' way — the way of surrender — could really be the way.
They doubted that God’s plan would unfold how He said it would.
They doubted that the story they were living would end in glory and redemption.
And I get that. Don’t you?
Because even now — thousands of years later, with the whole story in front of us — we still find ourselves doubting. We doubt when prayers go unanswered. When our plans unravel. When God feels quiet. When the path ahead is unclear.
We believe, and yet we still ask, “Are You sure this is the way?”
But here’s the beautiful part:
Jesus didn’t turn away from the disciples because they doubted.
He didn’t cancel His plan because they fell asleep. He didn’t stop walking toward the cross because they were unsteady.
He was faithful, even when they were not. He kept going, even when no one followed.
His love doesn’t hinge on our perfection.
It’s not a reward for spiritual certainty. It’s a promise. A covenant. A cross-carved reality.
And what’s more? The disciples came back. Their doubts weren’t the end of the story.
They returned with stronger faith, with open hands, and with hearts that had wrestled and wondered and found grace on the other side.
So if you’re in a season where faith feels like a fragile thread or where logic keeps battling what your heart is trying to believe, you’re not alone. You're not broken. You're not a failure.
You're a child of God, but you're also human, living in a broken, imperfect body and world.
And the God who stood steady in Gethsemane is standing steady with you now. He’s not surprised by your questions. He’s not disheartened by your doubt. He’s already promised:
When you are faithless, He remains faithful.
So, take a deep breath. Let your questions rise. And know that even here — especially here — He is with you.
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