From the Cup

I had to make a strange request today; I went to Dunkin' Donuts and asked for an empty cup. Thankfully, due to the fact that I work there, they obliged and I had my prop for "Eyes of Grace", which I took back to church and put in the hands of one of our bow-tie-clad characters.

The request was strange because our cups are never given to us empty.

(Okay, this isn't from Dunkin')

As I've been wrestling with God this week, He keeps bringing me back to Jesus's cup. The one that He asked the Father to take away because it would be so painful to drink. Yet He did drink in the suffering because it was what His Father asked, and it would save the people He loved.

He drank the cup so that we don't have to--but maybe He also drank it to show us how. 

See, this week has been stressful to the max. Between tech week and finals and planning for Alaska, it feels like life is dragging me along at this point. Don't get me wrong; I love what I do. I wouldn't trade where I'm at for anything because I love these kids and this message and this art. But when everything feels like it's running past me, my first reaction is to take control of whatever I can get my hands on. And when it doesn't work? I let stress and fear and anxiety rob me of the joy of doing what I am called to do. I let it isolate me from community and push me further into being the kind of person I don't want to be.

As I've struggled with this, I've felt God pressing something upon me:

Drink the cup that is given.   

In one way, that means to take what is put in front of me and use it well.
But in a more specific way,  it means choosing to drink the cup I don't always want.

It means choosing to drink the cup of patience when what I want is control.
It means drinking gentleness when I want to be angry.
It means drinking kindness when I want my own way.
It means drinking trust when it feels like things aren't working.

More than that, it means accepting that I am not strong enough to drink this cup on my own. It means not just Christ going before me, but going with me. To bear what I can't and be what I can't be. It means letting go of the reins and letting Him do what He wills, not what I expect. 

In the midst of this I realized that the cup, although it is sometimes painful, is a gift. The gift of being given not what we want, but what we need. The gift of being reminded that we are not our own Savior. If we drink in full what God is placing in front of us, we will be different people on the other side; not the kind of people that we expected to be, but the kind of people we were created to be.

So as I go into tomorrow wishing we had more time to prepare, wishing I had done this or that differently, or wishing that I had been given a different cup, I remember that the cup given me is a gift. It is the gift of getting to stay late and work on lines, getting to interpret the Gospel in fresh ways, getting to put faces on Popsicle sticks and laugh like nobody's business. It is the gift of being in a community of students that constantly challenges, encourages, and stretches me in ways I never imagined. It is the gift of getting to discuss the things in my heart with the people in my heart, and it is good. 

So I'm trying to let go. To surrender my desire for control and accept what God has willed for me, not what I want for myself. Because in saying, "Thy will be done," He is changing our will to look like His. In fact, He is making us desire what is good for us because we don't always know what's best.

So I take this cup as a gift and pray for the strength to drink it in full.