Lent 2026: He knows. He goes.

Jesus knew that the hour had come for him to leave this world.

He knew.

So often we rush past that. We focus on the meal, or the foot washing, or the vigil, or we skip straight to Friday. But before all of that, John tells us something simple and profound:

Jesus knew.

He could have run. He could have slipped away quietly, avoided the suffering. He could have stirred unrest, caused chaos, tried to change the outcome. But he didn’t.

Jesus knew, and still… he chose to break bread with his friends, giving them, and us, something to remember him by.

Jesus knew, and still… he knelt and washed their feet, giving his disciples, and us, a model to follow.

Jesus knew, and still… he spent the evening teaching them, giving them, and us, a new commandment: to love as he loved.

A friend of mine talks about “trudging” through Lent. Trudging is walking purposefully and determinedly, despite resistance or opposition. It’s like wading through water or mud, or leaning into wind and rain. It can be cheerful, but sometimes it’s grim. It requires grit. Sometimes sheer bloodymindedness.

That feels close to this moment. It’s easy to imagine Jesus moving through this night with calm certainty, knowing it will all be alright in the end. But Jesus is human too. If I knew what was coming, I think I’d be heading in the opposite direction. That would feel like the sensible choice.

But Jesus doesn’t run. He doesn’t drift. He doesn’t detach. He knows the weight of what is coming, you can hear it in his words, feel it in the way he speaks. And still, he gets up. He kneels. He teaches. He walks forward. Not serene detachment. Not dramatic heroism. But something steadier. Harder to name.

He keeps going. He trudges on, step by step, into something he would rather avoid.

I wonder if there’s anything like that in our lives. Not a cross, not a public trial. But something ahead of us that we’d rather not face. Something costly. Something heavy. Something we understand just enough to want to turn away.

The temptation is to avoid it, to distract ourselves, to pretend we don’t know what it might require.

But God does know what that feels like. He has been there. And still, he goes.

And he doesn’t leave us to walk alone. So whatever you are facing, whatever feels heavy or inevitable or quietly overwhelming, remember Jesus on this night.

He knows. And still, he goes.