"If you love me," Jesus had said, "you will follow my instruction to love one another." What was this feeling of hopelessness, abandonment and loneliness that had overcome me? Although I had not yet the ability to comprehend it fully, I sensed rather than knew that Jesus was going away, that he was about to die! Love for my brother? What of his love for us? For me? How could he love us, and at the same time, abandon us?

I had been preoccupied with my plate, fidgeting, moving it back and forth an inch or two. Lifting my eyes I saw that Jesus was gazing at me. "I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Counselor, Comforter and Guide, to be with you forever--the Spirit of Truth." I cared not for "another" counselor, however comforting. Who or what could possibly stand in Jesus' place? "Many will not be affected by him, because they neither see him nor know him. But you will know him, for he will live with you and will be in you."

Our eyes still engaged he said, "You will sometimes feel orphaned and abandoned, but fight those feelings because they are not derived from truth. Emotional pain is the result of perceived reality, not necessarily actual reality. You are not orphaned. You are not abandoned. In a few hours I will no longer be with you as I am now. But because I live in you, you also will live. There will come a day when you will understand and rejoice. Believe these words. Let your trust be your expression of love to me. If anyone anywhere in the world truly loves the Father, he also loves me and will follow my precepts. You needn't struggle with this. The Counselor, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you all you need to know in the days to come, and he will remind you of all that I have said to you."

Night deepened into the crisp bite of small hours. I ached from having sat so long. Yet the words of Jesus became more compelling with each passing moment. "Peace is the gift I leave with you," he said. "It is my peace I give to you. It transcends what others might understand. It is the peace my presence brings. It will give you an awareness of my presence within you. It is a peace that renders evil powerless.

"The prince of this world is coming. But remember, he is but a toothless hyena. He has no hold on me or influence on what happens to me and has no idea that he himself is about to be destroyed. After tonight, I will not speak with you much more."

Today, many years after the event described above, my heart is deeply troubled. I have a place to live, for which I am grateful. I no longer have fine clothing to wear. There is food on my table, but I worry at times if there will be enough for tomorrow. My knees hurt when I walk, and my muscles are in constant pain. I forget things.

I have watched over three generations, birth and some death. My grandchildren bring me much laughter but also remind me that much of my life has been spent.

And I tend to grumble and complain a lot.

Worst of all, I once walked in the corridors of important men. The wealthy and powerful listened to my words as did the poor, downtrodden and imprisoned. Now, at times, I feel put away, discarded by God and rejected. Overwhelmed with my own evil and self-pity, I weep with Naomi,

In such a state, it is very difficult to feel the peace of which the Master spoke. Yet at times it flickers across my consciousness so profoundly that my body flushes with the joy of the Spirit's presence. Then, in the next moment, it is gone and I return to Mara. The daggers of the prince of this world drip with my blood. He has far more influence with me than I wish. Yet in those blissful moments of peace and awareness of the Spirit's presence, the wounds heal and the daggers blunt. And I am whole once again. In those moments and sometimes hours of peace, my heart becomes a garden instead of a humorless field of rock-strewn dirt. "I am the true Vine," he taught us that night, "and my Father is the Gardener." On remembering these words, I acquiesce in the knowledge that I am in good hands.

We got up from the table, our heads spinning with his words. Our bodies were stiff. We needed to move. We stretched. Some of us walked outside for a moment to feel the breeze and coolness of the evening and to make sure the stars still shined in the sky, and to clear our minds a bit. I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Peter. "Are we ready for this, my friend, whatever it is? I like knowing how to plan. This is hard for me, not knowing what to expect." I resonated deeply with his feelings. The anticipation of dread and foreboding hung in the night air.

Not wanting to miss anything the Master might do or say, we kept our respite short. We gathered again around the table.

"I told you to serve one another, but I do not think of you as servants. You are friends. My friends. I know you wish to serve me, but you serve me not as a servant. You serve me as a friend would serve his friend; the kind of a friend that sticks closer than a brother.

"There are those who emphasize the exaltation of the Father, who speak much of his glory and how 'his train fills the Temple;' how he is 'high and lifted up.' All of this is true, but does it not make him feel distant from you? I am here to tell you that the Father wishes you to be friends, close to him, not distanced. Worship him in the beauty of his holy exaltation if you wish--but know, too, that he wants your worship to be in the beauty of love, as between a child and his father. Remember, you are created in his image. You are his child and his friend. God does not love you from a distance. He doesn't want you to love him from a distance. This is true for no other creature or anything that has been created. Believe me, you are like him and that is why he desires your heart to be with him. That is why he has sent me and why I call you friends and why I do not call you servants."

"Have we not left our homes, our families, our means of making a living and chosen to follow you, Lord? Isn't this proof of our desire to be with you?" Jesus lifted his cup and quietly took a sip of wine. Returning the cup to the table with his left hand, he lifted his right and . . . pointed. He pointed his forefinger directly at Simon the Zealot who had spoken.

"You did not choose me, Simon. I chose you. None of you chose me. I have chosen each and every one of you," he pointed to each one of us in turn. "I chose you, Thomas. I chose you Bartholomew. I chose you James. I chose you Joseph, called Justus. Each of you may choose to respond when I extend an invitation to come to me, but it is I who compiled the list of those to invite. It is I who chooses. It is I, not you."

"The Father will give you whatever you ask in my name."

Here it is again. Why does Jesus say such things? Were I a child, I would fully expect to receive whatever I ask for. But all too often my earnest requests seem to be spoken into empty silence.

Some claim that unrequited prayer stems from sin in our lives. If that be the case, is there anyone who would get what he asks? I am very grateful that Jesus gave no provision for prayer credentials. He did not say that there is a list of certain requirements we must meet in order for God to hear and respond. Jesus himself suggested no prerequisites to prayer. "Ask whatever you wish," he said. He said this because I am not honestly conscious of my motives when I ask. And if the reason for unrequited prayer were unbelief, then no prayer would be answered because no prayer would be prayed, for the very act of prayer is in itself, an act of faith! Moreover, since faith is a gift from God, one has as much faith as he is given. No more. No less.

I have come to understand that I must ask. No matter what the reason or motivation, the Father wishes me to come to him and ask. The likelihood that I will receive precisely what I ask rests where it should rest--in the will of the Father. It has often occurred to me that I should be grateful that I did not receive what I asked for.

But on a deeper level, he knows the purpose of his own heart with regard to that for which I ask. God is in heaven and I upon the earth. So let God be God; and God help me, I shall be Justus. Maybe there are things to learn that are better than an answer.

I remember the times he has given me more than I could have dreamed. He gave me my Juliana. I had vowed to God that I would love her with his love if he gave her to me. And he did. We shared so many years. There is so very much he has given to me; when I think of it all, I am awed.