He Was Wounded, and His Way is Perfect

Peter said unto him, Though I should die with you, yet will I not deny you. Likewise also said all the disciples.
Then came Jesus with them unto a place called Gethsemane, and said unto the disciples, Sit you here, while I go and pray yonder.
And he took with him Peter and the two sons of Zebedee, and began to be sorrowful and very distressed.
Then said he unto them, My soul is exceedingly sorrowful, even unto death: tarry you here, and watch with me.
And he went a little farther, and fell on his face, and prayed, saying, O my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me: nevertheless not as I will, but as you will.
And he came unto the disciples, and found them asleep, and said unto Peter, What, could you not watch with me one hour?
Watch and pray, that you enter not into temptation: the spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.
He went away again the second time, and prayed, saying, O my Father, if this cup may not pass away from me, except I drink it, your will be done.
And he came and found them asleep again: for their eyes were heavy.
And he left them, and went away again, and prayed the third time, saying the same words.
Then came he to his disciples, and said unto them, Sleep on now, and take your rest: behold, the hour is at hand, and the Son of man is betrayed into the hands of sinners.
Rise, let us be going: behold, he is at hand that does betray me.
And while he yet spoke, lo, Judas, one of the twelve, came, and with him a great multitude with swords and clubs, from the chief priests and elders of the people.
Now he that betrayed him gave them a sign, saying, Whomsoever I shall kiss, that same is he: hold him fast.
And immediately he came to Jesus, and said, Hail, Teacher; and kissed him.
And Jesus said unto him, Friend, why are you come? Then came they, and laid hands on Jesus, and took him. (Matthew 26:35-50)

This is the Jesus who authorizes my hurt. Jesus of the Scars. Jesus, let down by his closest friends. Jesus, alone in his pain. Jesus, overwhelmed. Jesus, betrayed. That Man of Sorrows, acquainted with grief. I will trust the weeping Jesus.

I have forgotten how to pray. I just cry and beg. And then I remember that I need not beg. So I just cry. He hears me. He knows my heart. He is not a stranger to my pain. What shall I say to Him? I am broken open before Him. There is none beside Him. He hurt for my sake. What shall I do with this hurt of mine, when my Defender is silent? What shall I say to Him who also wept?

He is beautiful, my Jesus. I will confess it now while everything in me rages and tends to destruction: Though he slay me, yet will I trust in Him.

My heart cries and cries, and the Accuser roars loud that God has deserted me, and all around is wilderness,  and I am laid low and stripped bare, hopeless, and still truth stomps out her steady beat: As for God, His way is perfect. (Psalm 18:30)

Here is the last piece of me, Lord. Bowed before You. I don't know what you want me to do. Teach me, though, and I will do it. I can't understand what You are going to do with this mess. The mess around me. The mess of me. How are you going to heal these wounds?