Easter Sunday

The time of the cups is passed --
I have drunk the cup of Elijah -- His time is come and gone
And I want to know if truth will penetrate my soul
As the truth of His being has intensified my longing.

I have drunk the cup of our last meal -- Dark and sweet was the wine
He fed us with affliction, he slaked our thirst with abandonment
Bitter was the betrayal of one who loved Him.
His skin purpled with rage as he bent over to kiss.

I have drunk the cup in the garden -- it tasted of gall
A deep dark drought. The will of God!
It tasted of ashes -- Harsh medicine
For a creation overwhelmed with brokenness.

I have drunk the cup of the cross -- the blood and tears
Misery and suffering streamed out and
Ran down the rough wood. I gathered
It in the cup of my flesh as the blood stained my hands.

I have drunk the cup of sorrows -- the cup weightless
Strange was its’ color and
Filled with vapor that evanesced into a melancholy nothingness
It reeked with a miasma of the grave.

For three days I drank nothing -- for three days it were if I were dead
It was a fast, yet the time passed slowly
Never had a Sabbath existed with such conflicting tensions

Yet

Today
On Sunday, I taste the cup of holiness
The cup of salvation is lifted up and I drink deeply of it.
The cup overflows with light and
It fills the void in my soul
I lift my heart in thanksgiving to the God who gave it
Precious was the night of cups, the day of sorrows
Precious in the sight of God is the death of His faithful son
Yet more precious still is the life
For through His pain can we begin to be healed,
Through His sacrifice can we be made pure and
Through His rising we can be made complete.
Hallelujah! Come Lord Jesus!