0851, The Two Gardens
# The Two Gardens
**Sermon #0851** — Study given by W. D. Frazee, July 29, 1960
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I want to study with you tonight, the two gardens—the Garden of Eden and the Garden of Gethsemane. These are the two great gardens in the history of the ages.
The word *garden* is first used in the Bible, in Genesis 2:
> "And the LORD God planted a garden eastward in Eden; and there He put the man whom He had formed. And out of the ground made the LORD God to grow every tree that is pleasant to the sight, and good for food; the tree of life also in the midst of the garden, and the tree of knowledge of good and evil. And a river went out of Eden to water the garden…" (Genesis 2:8–10).
What a picture of beauty it is!
> "And the LORD God took the man, and put him into the Garden of Eden to dress it and to keep it. And the LORD God commanded the man, saying, Of every tree of the garden thou mayest freely eat: But of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, thou shalt not eat of it: for in the day that thou eatest thereof thou shalt surely die" (Genesis 2:15–17).
You notice that the garden was filled with lovely trees: trees for beauty and trees for food, everything to delight the eye and bring pleasure to all the senses. Here was man's life. Here was his work. Here was his food. He was his place of worship. Here was his schoolroom. Here was all that would make life worthwhile, beautiful, inspiring, and satisfying.
The tree of life was in the midst of the garden. You remember that this was a special tree, the fruit of which had the power to perpetuate life on and on. Then there was one more tree—the tree of knowledge of good and evil. There are few people in the world who understand why that tree was there. Most people are either utterly ignorant and care nothing about it, or else they have in their minds the wish that God had not put it there; perhaps just a question of whether it was wise for God to do it.
I want to say this, dear friends, that if we have lurking in our hearts even a tiny bit of doubt concerning the wisdom of God on any point today, then we would question His wisdom in making this test back there.
I remember several years ago, the year that the Prohibition Amendment was repealed, I heard a lecture arguing for the appeal of the 18th amendment. The speaker had the audacity to refer to this experience in the Garden of Eden. He went so far as to suggest that if they had not been told not to eat of the tree, they would have never paid any attention to it. It was the prohibition that had made it so interesting. He thought he was making a point on the appeal of the 18th amendment—prohibition of the liquor traffic. I wonder if he realized that in that argument, he was allying himself with Satan, the author of sin, the first rebel.
But I wonder if we realize that we do precisely the same whenever we question any of God's instructions. It's an echo of the argument of Satan and his angels when they were in rebellion against God in Heaven. They charged it all upon God and said that if they had not been reproved, they never would have rebelled.
And so, there are those today, whenever authority is manifested, whenever the standards of God are upheld, there are those today who openly or secretly bring out the suggestion, "Well, if it were not for these rules, people would be all right. But when they are told not to do something, that is the very thing they want to do and will do."
I say that all those who cherish those sentiments would have questioned the wisdom of God in placing that one tree in the garden (the tree of the knowledge of good and evil) and requiring man to let it alone.
You and I know that for the development of character, choice is necessary. We know that love is the greatest joy and the greatest experience in all the universe. We know that love in its highest and truest sense comes to and in beings of free choice, and God, who is the author of love, longs that His children in this world might know love in its highest manifestations. He wanted us to have that sweet and wonderful experience, and so He gave us choice.
But it requires at least two things differing from each other to provide a choice. I want you to notice how God arranged it. He didn't provide a hundred wrong roads and one right road. No. He didn't provide 50 wrong roads and 50 right roads. He provided a thousand right choices and made the smallest test possible. Surrounded by every tree that was pleasant to the sight and good for food, Adam and Eve were restricted when it came to how many trees? Just one. Inspiration tells us that was the smallest test that God could devise.
As you know, the third chapter tells the sad story of Adam and Eve's failure. Surrounded with beauty and joy and pleasure, they chose to listen to the tempter who spoke through the serpent in that forbidden tree. They chose to turn away from the One who had given them that beautiful garden. Into that garden of love, doubt and selfishness came. And from that garden of life, death came. For, God had told them, "In the day that thou eatest thereof, thou shalt surely…" What? Die.
That's the Garden of Eden, friends. What a beautiful garden it seems as we look at it, and what a tragedy that from that beautiful beginning should come such a sad ending.
I come down four thousand years and look at another garden:
> "When Jesus had spoken these words…"
These are the words that He had spoken around the table at the Last Supper and on the way down through the streets of Jerusalem, across the brook, and into this place at the foot of the Mouth of Olives.
> "…He went forth with His disciples over the brook Cedron, where was a garden, into the which He entered, and His disciples. And Judas also, which betrayed Him, knew the place: for Jesus ofttimes resorted thither with His disciples" (John 18:1–2).
As you know, the name of this garden was, what? Gethsemane. The name is interesting. It means an oil press. As you know, there were many olive trees in this garden, and doubtless, an oil press was there. It was from this oil press that the garden received its name. What a figure of the infinite pressure that our Lord went under as He entered the shade of those olive trees that night.
I want to read a statement from the Spirit of Prophecy written in 1892:
> "The Garden of Eden with its foul blot of disobedience, is to be carefully studied and compared with the Garden of Gethsemane, where the world's Redeemer suffered superhuman agony when the sins of the whole world were rolled upon Him" (*SDA Bible Commentary*, vol. 5, p. 1103).
> "The Garden of Eden with its disobedience and the Garden of Gethsemane with its obedience are presented before us" (ibid., 1103).
So, we're to study these two gardens and study them together—the Garden of Eden and the Garden of Gethsemane. Notice that she speaks of the Garden of Eden with its foul blot of, what? Disobedience. What a beautiful picture that garden was until disobedience put a foul blot upon it. Adam and Eve had to leave that garden. They left it, my dear friends, under a shadow, under a dark cloud.
When Jesus entered the Garden of Gethsemane, He entered a phase of His life's experience in this world such as we can only begin to study in this life. We shall study it throughout the endless ages of eternity.
There are several things that happened to the Savior in that garden. You will remember that Matthew tells us, over here in the 26th chapter of his Gospel, in describing this experience in Gethsemane, Matthew tells us that Jesus' soul was exceedingly sorrowful, even unto death (Matthew 26:38). He asked the disciples to tarry and watch with Him. I suppose there are those whose comprehension of what was going on there is so limited that they imagine that Jesus was distressed because the mob was going to come and take Him and that He would be tried and scourged and crucified and hung up to die.
That would have been such a tiny little thing in comparison to what was facing Jesus. It would have been simple and easy by comparison. Millions of martyrs have cheerfully, for Jesus' sake, gone forth to be burned at the stake or crucified or otherwise to suffer death.
But when Jesus went into the Garden of Gethsemane, He went in there to take the penalty of a broken law and suffer death for man. Perhaps one of the best verses to help us understand what went on in Gethsemane is Hebrews 2:9:
> "But we see Jesus, who was made a little lower than the angels for the suffering of death, crowned with glory and honour; that He by the grace of God should taste death for every man" (Hebrews 2:9).
You will remember that as Jesus went into the darkness of the garden and left the three disciples close by and yet a little distance asking them to pray with and for Him, He fell prostrate upon the earth. He clung to the cold ground in desperation. There was such an agony in His mind and soul that the sweat began to come from His pores tinged with blood.
You and I have never experienced anything like that, have we? No. But we can try this evening to gather under the olive trees and there behold the Son of God in that agony, and try to understand what went on in that garden in the shade of the olive trees pierced by the moonbeams.
This text in Hebrews 2 that we have read says that Jesus was made a little lower than the angels. The whole chapter shows that means He was made a member of the human family. For what purpose? For the suffering of what? Death, that He should, by the grace of God do, what? Taste death for every man.
Have you ever heard of people being in such mental anguish that they actually pulled the hair from their heads? Yes. We have heard of many things that men do in a desperate feeling of anguish and agony. But nobody who has lived in this world has ever suffered for himself, let alone for any others, the agony and anguish of the second death.
Down at the end of the 1,000 years at judgment day, when all the nations meet God at the great white-throne and meet life's records as thrown upon the canvass of the sky, every one of the lost will know an anguish and agony that comes from separation from God. Jesus said there will be weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth as they find themselves in the utter darkness across the great gulf.
When Jesus went into the Garden of Gethsemane, He went down into that great gulf. He went into that awful blackness. His Spirit shuttered. Keep in mind that our text says that He did that for, how many? For every man.
Did He do it for you as though you were the only one in the world? Yes. Did He do it for me too? Did He do it for your father, your mother, your brother, your sister, your neighbor, your friend? Did He do it for all those millions in China and Africa, and for all the millions and billions and trillions who have lived and died down through the ages? Did He do it for each one? Yes.
I want to ask you a question. Do you know what happens to human nature when a certain amount of load is put upon it? It gives way, friends, gives way. Suppose we think of it in a physical way. Suppose we start to pile some load of wheat upon a man. We keep piling it up and up. What will finally happen? It will crush out his life. Won't it?
Can men be crushed with mental anguish? Has it been done? Have men actually died under the load of mental anguish? Oh, yes. Human nature can stand just so much.
Do you know what happened in Gethsemane, friends? I want to read you something. There is something wonderful and mysterious that happened in this garden:
> "In the garden of Gethsemane Christ suffered in man's stead, and the human nature of the Son of God staggered under the terrible horror of the guilt of sin until from His pale and quivering lips was forced the agonizing cry, 'Oh, My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from Me'" (*SDA Bible Commentary*, vol. 5, p. 1103).
Our text says that He was made a little lower than the angels—took human nature for what purpose? For the suffering of death. Who was it who deserved to suffer? Man. Man deserved to suffer, what? Death, for the wages of sin is death. As the divine Son of God, Jesus could not die, for Deity cannot die. For the suffering of death, He must take, what? He must take man's nature. To suffer our death, He must take our nature. Was that one of the great reasons He came to earth and became incarnate? Was that it? Yes. He became a little babe—born as we were born, grew up as we grow up. He was the spotless Son of God, divine, yet, He was the son of Mary and the son of David according to the flesh. It's a great mystery.
We can never fully explain it or ever fully understand it. But tonight, friends, we gather in Gethsemane and see Someone, not kneeling as He is so often pictured. Christ doubtless often knelt in prayer, but tonight He's, what? He's prostrate on the cold ground. He has taken man's nature in order to do what? Suffer. In order to suffer, what? Death. For whom? For you.
All right, now I want to ask you something, friends, if all He has is man's nature, do you think He could ever suffer enough to pay for millions and billions and trillions of people? No, He could not. Let me read on:
> "Human nature would then and there died under the horror of the sense of sin had not an angel from heaven strengthened Him to bear the agony" (ibid., p. 1103).
You remember that Luke tells about the angel coming, don't you? What did he come for? To take the cup away? No. He came to strengthen Jesus. Not, my dear friends, to save Him from dying in the sense of removing the cup, but to give Him strength, so He could keep on doing, what? Drinking the cup—suffering death. Do you see, He was held at the point of suffering death? I read on:
> "Human nature can endure but a limited amount of test and trial. The finite can only endure the finite measure, and human nature succumbs" (ibid., p. 1103).
What does that mean, "it succumbs"? It gives way. The mind would snap. The body would die. Life would be gone under even the beginning of the tiniest load that fell upon the soul of Jesus that night in Gethsemane. But now, watch:
> "But the nature of Christ had a greater capacity for suffering to endure that which resulted from the sins of a lost world" (ibid., p. 1103).
What gave Him a greater capacity for suffering? He was the Son of God. And mark, there in that dear heart, there was that mysterious blend of human nature and divine nature. The human nature, giving Him the ability to suffer as a human being suffers. The divine nature, giving Him the capacity to endure that for millions and billions and trillions of people, "that He by the grace of God, should…" what? Taste death for every man.
Now, I want to have it very clear that this describes what happened in Gethsemane. I'll read that in *Desire of Ages*, page 694. Speaking of the time just after the visit of the angel who came to strengthen Him:
> "Christ's agony did not cease, but His depression and discouragement left Him. The storm had in nowise abated, but He who was its object was strengthened to meet its fury. He came forth calm and serene. A heavenly peace rested upon His bloodstained face…"
Now watch!
> "…He had…"
This is "had" born. This is before the mob came, before He went to Pilate, before He was crucified. Listen:
> "…borne that which no human being could ever bear; for He had tasted the sufferings of death for every man" (*The Desire of Ages*, p. 694).
That's what happened in Gethsemane. "Well," you say, "why Calvary, then?" Perhaps, we can study that another time, friends. There was a reason for Calvary that was not taken care of in Gethsemane. But there was something that happened in Gethsemane. [*The train whistles very loudly*] Let's just meditate a moment on what we've been studying.
In *The Desire of Ages*, page 759, there is a very interesting comparison of Calvary and Gethsemane. It speaks about Jesus in Gethsemane as sorrowful with a bitterness of sorrow "exceeding that of the last great struggle with death."
Calvary was an infinite suffering, my friends. But here, inspiration compares that with Gethsemane. It says that there in Gethsemane, there was a bitterness of sorrow exceeding that of the last great struggle with death. We have much to meditate one here. There was no one driving nails in Jesus' hands in that garden. No one was lashing Him with the scourge. It was mental anguish alone, my friends—the weight of the sins of the world. Think of it! The disciples were doing what? Sleeping, when all that was going on.
> "By these sleeping disciples is represented a sleeping church when the day of God's visitation is nigh. It is a time of clouds and thick darkness, when to be found asleep is most perilous" (*Testimonies for the Church*, vol. 2, p. 205).
Yes, we need to study these two gardens—the garden where everything was lost and the garden where everything was won back. That garden where all our guilt began brought death and pain, but this, where Jesus prays by night for man and brings life and joy again. Oh friends, under the plan of salvation, it is ever God's purpose to bring light out of darkness and joy out of sorrow. And while we can never experience the agony that He went through in Gethsemane (it would crush us), the Savior has invited us to watch with Him for one hour, as He asked Peter and his companions. And the remnant who go through the time just ahead will know, more than most of the saints who have lived and died through the ages, what it means to fellowship with Jesus in this garden.
You and I have been asked to spend a thoughtful hour each day in contemplation of the life of Christ, especially the closing scenes. Not that that hour is to be measured by the clock in terms of sixty minutes. No. On many occasions, it may be less than sixty minutes. I'm of the opinion that between now and the Latter Rain, there will be some hours that will be longer than sixty minutes.
We need not measure it by the tick of a watch. We need to come with Jesus into the garden.
> Ever when tempted, make me see,
> Beneath the olives' moon pierced shade,
> My God, alone, outstretched, and bruised,
> And bleeding, on the earth He made.
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> And make me feel it was my sin,
> As though no other sins there were,
> That was to Him who bears the world
> A load that He could scarcely bear.
— "My God, my God, and Can It Be," by Frederick W. Faber
The only way He bore it was because that, with the humanity which made Him capable of suffering our death, was an infinite nature that provided an infinite capacity for infinite suffering.
What made it all, my friends? Sin: sins of pride, sins of folly, sins of indulgence, sins of lust, sins of covetousness; sins of worldly ambition, envy, jealousy; sins of sloth—every sin was there that night, and was heaped upon the innocent soul of Jesus. It almost killed Him right there in the garden before He ever went to the cross. Almost, it would have if the angel hadn't come and strengthened him.
Remember, friends, the angel did not come to take away the cup or lessen the suffering. Just from the standpoint of suffering, it would have been mercy if His life had ended right there. But ah, friends, He must drain the cup to its dregs. Our text in Hebrews 2 says that He, by the grace of God should do, what? Taste death for whom? Every man.
I used to think of that word "taste" like tasting a little bit of soup in the kitchen. That isn't what it means at all, my friends. It means to drain the cup to its dregs and not miss the bitterness of a single drop.
When you were a child, did someone have the job of giving you some bitter medicine, and try to cover it up with something, so you didn't have to taste it? But friends, He had to taste it. He had to experience the bitterness of it all because He was our substitute. He was taking our place. How the heart of the Father must have been wrung!
When Abraham took his son, Isaac, and put him on the altar, it must have been a great sacrifice Isaac made to allow himself to be bound to be sacrificed. But what about the father? Do you think Abraham suffered? Yes. If you could choose, would you rather have Isaac's suffering or Abraham's suffering? I think most of us would say Abraham suffered at least as much and probably more.
So, when we see the Son of God there on the cold ground pleading, wrestling, agonizing, till the bloody sweat pouring from his pores, we must think of that Father's heart that is wrung with anguish as the beloved Son is separated from Him by that awful gulf of sin—that black gulf. Yes, the Father and Son both suffered. But notice, the same power that inflicted that penalty, the power of God was the power that was sustaining our Lord.
> "The power that inflicted retributive justice upon man's substitute and surety was the power that sustained and upheld the suffering one under the tremendous weight of wrath that would have fallen upon a sinful world. Christ was suffering the death that was pronounced upon the transgressors of God's law" (ibid., p. 1103).
As it were, we see with one hand the Judge of all the earth raising the sword of justice to strike to the heart of His beloved Son. This time there is no substitute, as in the case of Abraham and Isaac. There's no ram caught in the thicket. Christ Himself, the only begotten Son of God must bare His breast to the stroke. But oh, as that hand of divine justice is uplifted to strike to the heart of Christ, the other hand of the Father is placed beneath His Son to support Him and strengthen Him to bear the awful test and pay the awful price. God and His Son suffered together, my friends.
We should never let the fact that we can so dimly comprehend it keep us from studying and meditating upon it. Exactly the opposite should be our reaction. The fact that we understand it so little should challenge us to spend more time in the shadow of the olive trees, looking at Jesus as He pays the price.
Here friends, is where sin will get spoiled for us. Here is where human pride will appear in all its ugliness. I rather doubt, friends, that we can get much satisfaction in decorating and adorning these poor mortal bodies if we spend much time in Gethsemane. I think it would solve the fashion problems from head to foot if we would just kneel and share with Jesus in these experiences in the garden. What do you think? I believe it, friends.
I believe this is the cure. I believe that the positions that the world offers and the remunerations the world offers, and all appeals to human ambition will fade away into nothingness as we see the love of Jesus as He battles through for us in that awful struggle with the powers of darkness in Gethsemane.
> Were the whole realm of nature mine,
> This were a tribute far too small;
> Love so amazing, so divine,
> Demands my life, my soul, my all.
Do you know what Satan planned to do in the garden of Gethsemane? Satan planned to make sin look so terrible to Christ and the results of sin so awful and the penalty for sin so great that it would utterly discourage Jesus from going through with giving His life as the atonement. He did everything he could to discourage Him. As Jesus looked into that gulf, it looked so deep there was no bottom, so far there was no crossing it of it. He was told that if He went into that, there was no coming back. It was forever. Then it was, my dear friends, that Jesus made that supreme sacrifice for you and me. If that is what it meant to die and never live again, to go down and never come up, for my sake, He would do it.
That is what it meant to take the cup. Jesus took it, friends. He prayed that if possible, it might pass, if there was any way to save man without that separation. But there was no way, friends, there was no way. You and I must learn that sin means separation and that there is no way to sin without separation. There is no way to end the separation without getting rid of the sin.
So Jesus took the sin and endured the separation that we might give up the sin and have the separation ended.
*[Several closing hymns and appeal follow]*
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