Thanking God for All Life's Experiences

The Cup of Our Lord

 Reprinted from the Bible Study Monthly, March/April 1992

The cup which my Father hath given me, shall I not drink it?—John 18:11

The incident that drew this remark from the Lord’s lips is well-remembered. It was at the time of his arrest in the Garden. The little party was leaving Gethsemane, and in so doing approached and met the party of soldiers that was on its way to effect the arrest. Simon Peter, having possession of a sword, and burning with zeal to defend his master, drew it, and struck the high priest’s servant. He succeeded only in cutting off his ear, whereupon Jesus commanded him to put up his sword, forbidding him to strike further blow in his defense. “Put up thy sword into the sheath: the cup which my Father hath given me, shall I not drink it?” Thus did he indicate that this cup of which he spoke was an experience which he was called upon to encounter and endure.

The cup is figurative. Quite a few Scriptures refer to it in this way. To drink of this cup, the cup of our Lord, signifies acceptance of, and willingness to endure, certain experiences as a Christian and as one of his followers. Jesus asked the two sons of Zebedee, “Are ye able to drink of the cup that I shall drink of, and to be baptized with the baptism that I am baptized with?” Quite confidently they answered him, “We are able,” whereupon Jesus rejoined, “Ye shall drink indeed of my cup, and be baptized with the baptism that I am baptized with” (Matthew 20:22,23). In saying that, he was telling them, although they knew it not at the time, that they were to taste of inward affliction and desertion and bear their share of outward affliction with him. That was a typical example of many such little words that Jesus had with his disciples as he tried to prepare their minds for the life of patient endurance that was to be theirs in future days, after he had left them to return to his Father.

It is significant that the shadow of the cross had fallen upon Jesus as he sat with his little company around the table in that upper room. As we read the accounts of the events that led up to this time we can see something of what Jesus endured, as, for instance, his setting his face “steadfastly” to go to Jerusalem, knowing full well what was before him of shame and injustice and suffering and death. There is the human touch of the suggestion that his brethren and family go on before so he could slip into the city unnoticed. Then the public excitement of his later entry in kingly fashion, when riding upon an ass he presented himself in formal fashion to Israel as their king. “Hosanna to the Son of David,” they shouted. “Blessed is the King of Israel that cometh in the name of the Lord!” That picture fades, and we have another: the Lord is washing the disciples’ feet, a lesson for them and for us. Finally the betrayal, and the arrest, and the denial by Peter, all just as Jesus had foretold it. All these things became part of the cup which our beloved Lord must needs drain to the end.

It was the concern of Jesus to clarify in the minds of his disciples, as much as possible, the things that he must suffer, and so to prepare them for the worst. They were so slow of heart and mind to receive these things in those carefree days before the event. Like Peter, they all wanted to say “this shall not be unto thee” and dismiss the subject. But Jesus continued to turn their minds to these things. Can we not see him now, sitting there in the upper room with his disciples? Can we not see him performing that symbolic act that gathered up the meaning of what he had been doing, and would be doing, in pouring out his soul unto death? He took a cup, and when he had thanked God for it, he gave it to them! He made the fruit of the vine  in that cup a symbol, a symbol that would best symbolize what he was giving to them spiritually.

The Vine and Branches

This then is our participation with him in his experiences—his cup! The apostle Paul reminds us of this in 1 Corinthians 10:16, “The cup of blessing which we bless, is it not the communion of the blood of Christ?” In this mystic common-sharing we partake with him of the fruit of the vine. Into that cup which he held had gone all the experiences of the mystic vine in the past—for he is that vine of which we are the branches (John 15:5), and we can truthfully say that the soul or life of the vine was there in the cup. The essence of its fruitage was there in the cup. Many things had worked together to produce that fruitage. There was, first of all, the kind of soil in which the vine grew. Then there was the attention of the husbandman and the oft-times pruning, that it bring forth good fruit. The storms which beat over it, the sunshine and the rain, all had their part to play. Finally there was the crushing of the grapes in the winepress that the rich juice might be extracted and afterward become wine. All these things had gone to determine and enrich the quality of the wine which Jesus now was giving to his disciples. Everything of the past in the growth and development of the vine or the experiences that befell the vine had gone into the cup. Here is a lesson for us! Since we covenanted to be footstep followers of Jesus and branches of the true vine, all the experiences we encounter, whether on the hilltop or in the valley, whether bitter or sweet, are necessary to the triumphant completion of our calling. All are planned to work out some necessary fruitage of character in our hearts and lives.

At the Memorial supper Jesus was putting to their lips an invisible cup of which the material cup was but a symbol. Into that invisible cup all of the past experiences of his life had been gathered. All that Jesus had said, and suffered, and prayed, and done, and was, went into the chalice which he was now putting to their lips. Thus they drank of his life. Thus they accepted him and thus they identified themselves with him in that acceptance. No wonder Jesus said afterwards, as they were walking together to Gethsemane, “I am the true vine, and my Father is the husbandman. Every branch in me that beareth not fruit he taketh away, and every branch that beareth fruit, he purgeth it, that it may bring forth more fruit” (John 15:1,2). So he came to the great climax, “Herein is my Father glorified, that ye bear much fruit” (John 15:8).

In the silent years at Nazareth, when Jesus lived in obscurity, maybe working and helping at the carpenter’s bench, his hands rough with toil, we can visualize him dealing with the commonplace things of every day. He must have known the hardship of poverty, the dull and narrow life of a country village, and perhaps the responsibility of supporting a family of younger brothers and sisters after the death of their father. But with the vision of the future all the time in his heart, unuttered though it was, he conquered the commonplace things and prepared himself a way to take the cup. Many of us, perhaps most of us, have to live out our lives in the same dull obscurity, battling with the business of making a living, toiling in some factory, field, office or home, dealing with the sordid and scarring things. Yet all the time there is a vision of something better and nobler held in the heart unexpressed, the vision of our glorified Lord and our being together with him. We are captivated with his word. He has put the chalice to our lips and we too drink of his victory over the commonplace.

Baptism

Now Jesus lays aside the commonplace things of life and goes out to proclaim his message, and to enter more deeply into the soul of the people. It was in this mood that he came “from Galilee to Jordan unto John, to be baptized of him” (Matthew 3:13). He had been baptized into the world’s toil; he was “in all points tempted like as we are, yet without sin” (Hebrews 4:15). Now he would be baptized into the world’s sin. Isaiah foresaw this: “Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows: yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted” (Isaiah 53:4-6). John is calling a nation to repentance, his throbbing words smiting the hearts of the people, and they come to his stream, the Jordan, for the baptism of repentance. Now Jesus enters that stream. He, with conscience unstained and character untarnished! He, who needed no repentance! He, the holy, the harmless, the undefiled! He, the sinless, enters that line, that queue, waiting for baptism. She may be a harlot standing ahead of him, and he a publican who is following behind him; the publicans and the harlots believed John. Jesus became as one of them and was baptized into John’s baptism of repentance! The identification is complete! He has taken the sinner’s place! “For he hath made him to be sin for us, who knew no sin: that we might be made the righteousness of God in him” (2 Corinthians 5:21). All this was a portion in his cup; especially so is it for us and on our behalf.

There came a reaction to this identification of himself with the sinner. Jesus left men and the habitations of men and continued the struggle in the wilderness. Was this the way to complete, absolute, identification? Yes! This was the poured-out cup that the Father handed to his son. “Jesus, being full of the holy spirit … was led by the spirit into the wilderness” (Luke 4:1). For forty days he faced the issues, and then came hunger, and with it came the first insidious suggestion: “You need not go back! You are the son of God; that is enough. Stay out here, feed yourself by miracle, and live as the miraculous Son of God.” It was the voice of the Tempter!

The temptation to live apart, to feed oneself on spiritual miracle, is one of the most real temptations of the spiritual life. To hear and receive the approbation of man on account of the things you discover from God is seductive indeed. Jesus brushed the suggestion aside. He would not be content with being the son of God; he would also be the son of man. He would live, not merely by the food the earth brings forth, but by every word that proceeds out of the mouth of the Father, and that meant, for him, identification with men and the redemption of men at great cost to himself. That was the cup! “The Son of Man came … to give his life a ransom for many” (Matthew 20:28).

The Tempter suggested another means of proving his authority. If you must go back, why stand down with the people? Why not rise to a pinnacle? Your way is too costly! Why not worship me and take possession now? Says Jesus, “It is written, thou shalt worship the Lord thy God, and him only shalt thou serve” (Luke 4:8). He put this suggestion aside also: he knew that the way he had chosen would drive him into a position that would finally mean crucifixion. He had been baptized between two sinners. This choice meant that he would now be crucified between two thieves. But he held to his resolve to be the son of man and bear all that men bore, and more.

Preaching

From this Jesus went straight to the synagogue at Nazareth and announced his program: “The spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he hath anointed me to preach the gospel to the poor; … to preach the acceptable year of the Lord” (Luke 4:18,19). This is the Son of Man speaking. This announcement of his program brought surprise and delighted wonder from his fellow-townsmen until he went on and revealed to them how wide his message really was. It was as wide as the human race—God cares as much for the Gentile as for the Jew. There were many lepers and widows in Israel but even so the prophet went to others, Gentiles, a widow of Sarepta, and Naaman the Syrian. That changed matters! They arose in anger and led him to the brow of the hill with the intention of casting him headlong over the precipice; but he, passing through the midst of them, and in the majesty of his bearing holding them powerless, went his way.

All this went into the cup. When we too are called and commissioned, and the cold prejudices close in and endeavor to quench our spirits, let us drink of his calm and courage, and so, passing through the midst of them, go our way. Let us fulfill the heavenly vision no matter at what cost to ourselves. Like the apostle, let us “press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 3:14). “This one thing I do” (verse 13)—that is the keynote.

But after this there came a season during which Jesus was immensely popular. The multitudes hung upon his words, words that fell like dew upon their thirsty souls. The healed ones went everywhere telling of his power and compassion. And the people found in him a new authority, the authority of reality. When they saw him breaking bread to the crowds in the wilderness, they came and tried to make him a king by force. That was how it was that Jesus, perceiving their intention, withdrew himself to the mountains again. He would hold to the high purpose of the Father’s will for him even though it meant crucifixion. The easy way to power was resolutely put away; he would take the long road to his Calvary. All the decisiveness and completion of consecration went into the cup when he rejected a throne for a cross.

When these moments come to us, brethren, when we are offered the easy and dazzling way and we willingly choose the hard way, then we too drink of the chalice into which this trial has gone. Surely it is then that we find we are ready for further trials with Jesus our Lord. Then it is that we can say with the apostle, “I [am] determined not to know any thing among you, save Jesus Christ, and him crucified” (1 Corinthians 2:2).

There was an occasion when Jesus, beholding the city lying in all its splendor and magnificence before him, paused on the side of the mount and wept over the city. Think of the courage of that hour when he bade them “take these things from my Father’s house” and drove them out. All this, too, went into the cup. As with Jesus, so his followers need a stout heart combined with gentility of disposition. “Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good.” One writer has said, “I love the Christ of the searching eye, the blessing hand, the tender, terrible prophet pronouncing woes to the city and then weeping over it. I love the Christ that allowed the returning storm to beat upon himself on the cross so as to complete our redemption.” Let us drink of these qualities and be strong, for we shall need to be bold as a lion albeit as meek as a lamb.

Seated with his disciples in the upper room, and knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, knowing that he himself had come from God and was returning to God, he rose from supper, laid aside his outer garments, and taking a towel began to wash the disciples’ feet. He was so conscious of greatness that he dared to be humble. Into his cup had gone majesty of soul linked with lowly service. You, my dear brethren, who share the dignity and honor of sonship with him, you have need to learn what constitutes true kingliness. It is “the power to bend and serve.” As James says (4:10), “Humble yourselves in the sight of the Lord, and he shall lift you up.”

Gethsemane

Gethsemane! All the pain, the agony, the spiritual loneliness of that hour go into the cup. Was he afraid to die? Hardly; it was with that intention that he came, to lay down his life. Is it surprising that the redeemer, who in his determination to go on to the end despite what wicked men might do, seemed to be looking in on men at their worst, should ask, “If it be possible, let this cup pass from me”? This is the hardest thing that any reformer or bringer of new ideas has to face; that although his ideal is light to those who can receive it, it is darkness to others who are willingly blind. But there is no other way. This is the cup that is poured. The tragedy and triumph is not in the agony but in the outcome. Calm and collected he stands and says, “Rise, let us be going … he is at hand that doth betray me.” All that went into the cup! Those of us who meet our lesser Gethsemanes drink from that chalice into which the richness of that hour has gone, and we too can say “Arise, my soul, let us be going to meet our cross.” Having drunk, we meet it with calm.

Standing before Pilate, arrayed in mock royalty, he afforded the Roman soldiers a supreme opportunity to show their contempt for the Jews. Putting a crown of thorns upon his head, a stick in his hand for a scepter, they hailed him as King of the Jews and then spat in his face. They had often wanted to do that to the Jews; now they would do it to their king. The racial contempt that was directed toward the men who were crying for his blood he bore on their behalf. He was despised and rejected of men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. All of that went into his cup.

He heard his words twisted and distorted to other meanings: “I will destroy this temple that is made with hands and in three days I will build another made without hands.” He was being crucified on misquotation and he was not nervously anxious to explain. He let it go. He could wait. He knew that every lie would break itself on the truth, and he answered not a word. The governor marveled! And this went into the cup. Let us “consider him that endured such contradiction of sinners against himself, lest ye be wearied and faint in your minds” (Hebrews 12:3). Those of us who have had our words misquoted, our best actions misunderstood, our best motives misinterpreted, and have suffered, if we drink of this cup into which patient triumph has gone, and share with Jesus this poise of heart and resignation to our Father’s will, we shall say, “Am I not to drink of the cup my Father has handed me, with thankfulness?” He is nailed to the Cross! His good name is taken away; he is a malefactor. His disciples have fled; he is alone in his agony, beaten back, so to speak, into the dark until it seems that God too has gone—for from his lips comes the cry, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” Everything seems gone.

But not quite! Two words remain; “My God.” They could not snatch them from his lips and heart. In quiet confidence he says, “Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit.” Nothing more bitter could have gone into the cup!

A tomb held Jesus—but not for long. The most glorious fact of human history was yet to go into the cup. Out of that tomb he arose, laid aside his grave clothes, and came forth triumphant and resplendent. He is risen!

Resurrection

My dear brethren, If into that cup has gone everything that life can possibly mete, its commonplaces; its obscurity; its toil; its temptations; its blind prejudices; its bid for compromise; its lonely determination; its Gethsemanes; its hours before unjust judgment seats; its cross-forsakenness; its death—nevertheless there has also gone into it the most complete triumph that can possibly come: He arose! Nothing else now matters. God’s last word is resurrection.

Let life do its best, or worst, this saving truth will be at the end of each one sharing with Jesus in this cup. The life of Jesus and the cross of Jesus raise every question about life that can be raised and raise them in the most acute form. The word “why” upon the lips of Jesus as he hung upon the cross epitomized all the questions that ever trembled upon the lips of perplexed humanity. Why does God permit evil? Why? If there is a God, why this, and why that? The resurrection answers them all. God’s last word is resurrection. That is the finale of his work for mankind and it is in the cup. Jesus prayed, “Glorify thou me with the glory which I had with thee before the world was.” When he had taken the cup, he thanked God for it. He took it all as from the Father’s hand. He thanked him for it, and lo! everything was transformed. We all have to bear our cross; let us do it thankfully; for only those who have learned triumphantly to thank God for it all, can turn life from a senseless suffering into a sacrament. Let us each and all decide for ourselves, “The cup which my Father hath given me, shall I not drink it?”