A team of four folks recently came to Senegal from our Home Church in Mtn. City GA. This is the first time since we arrived in Senegal that they have been able to come! It was so special. One of the things that they did was to lead our Spiritual Life Conference. Our last session we shared the Lord's Supper together. Our pastor Kevin Hurt preached a message that touched me (Steve) very deeply. I wrote a poem that helped me put down some of my meditations on that message. Here it is.
My Cup You Drank and Gave To Me Yours
God’s wrath and judgement for my sin poured out in a cup.
Drink eternal death and punishment, I would never have a hope.
The cup was rightly mine to drink – the judgement for MY sin,
Yet drink it all I never could, or even take one sip.
For to touch it to my lips was eternal death indeed.
Your wrath never to be satisfied – there would always be a need.
I was lost – without hope – as this cup before me stood,
Yet all the while You, oh God, were planning for my good.
“I hate You!”, I declared by every word and deed,
Yet it was then You looked at me and for my sin did bleed.
“The cup of wrath that he should drink, I take it for Myself,” You said.
“For if he even puts it to his lips, he will certainly be dead.”
And so my cup You took from me, and traded for Your own.
The wrath of God that was rightly mine, was poured out on the Son.
That cup of wrath was so terrible – so awful – You cried out in sweat and blood,
“Father, take this cup from me, unless it’s for his good!”
The Father’s judgement was fulfilled as my cup You drank in haste.
To the dregs! Not one drop did You leave for me to taste.
My cup You drank and gave me Yours. In awe and wonder still,
I look and drink from this cup that grace and love does fill.
“Can I finish it?” I cry as I drink from it again.
Your grace and love so satisfies, in spite of all my sin.
This cup of grace and love You give, I shall never see the end.
For you have loved me, died for me, and called me Your friend.
Though I fail and stumble as I walk the path that You, Yourself, have blazed,
That cup of wrath that should be mine, You have already raised.
There is not one thing that I can do to make You love me more,
For my cup You drank and gave to me Yours.
After the SLC they came and visited us in Kaffrine. They even got out to the villages where we work. It was cool!
