He never abandoned them. Not once. But they—in cowardly terror for their own lives—fled from him the very moment his sufferings began.

Here's what believers look like when left to themselves: we are sheep at best, and when the wolf comes, we flee. They had all been warned of the danger. They had all promised to die rather than leave their Master. And yet when the moment came, sudden panic seized them and they took to their heels.

Perhaps this morning I've braced myself for some trial. Perhaps I imagine I'll exhibit perfect fidelity to the Lord. But let me be very jealous of myself! Let me be suspicious of my own heart! I carry the same evil heart of unbelief that made the apostles flee. It's one thing to promise in the morning light—quite another to perform when darkness falls.

Think of it! They could have had eternal honor—standing manfully at Jesus' side. Instead, they fled from honor itself. May I be kept from imitating them!

And the madness of it! Where else in all the universe would they have been safer than near their Master, who could call twelve legions of angels with a word? They fled from their true safety. O God, let me not play the fool also!

But divine grace can make the coward brave. The smoking flax can flame forth like fire on the altar when the Lord wills it. These very apostles—timid as hares—grew to be bold as lions after the Spirit descended upon them. And even so, the Holy Spirit can make my recreant spirit brave to confess my Lord and witness for his truth.

What anguish must have filled the Savior as he watched his friends prove so faithless! Their desertion was one bitter ingredient in his cup—but that cup is drained dry! Let me not put another drop in it. If I forsake my Lord, I shall crucify him afresh and put him to an open shame.

Keep me, O blessed Spirit, from an end so shameful.