The Bible is a treasure chest of inspiration, encouragement and comfort. But it also has many confronting truths which shock us out of our complacency and remind us that this earthly journey as a child of God is no picnic. There are wonderful days of bright sunshine, majestic scenery and the joy of being alive. Then there are the desperate times of darkness, betrayal, confusion and disappointment. The Bible has it all so we should not be surprised. The battle of light and dark, good and evil, the best of humanity and the worst of humanity – is always with us. We see it on almost every page of the Bible in the lives of the great heroes of God: Abraham, Moses, David, Jeremiah, Job, the Apostles . . they all had their good days and they also had those days when it was just too hard.

Even Jesus faced such times. The most poignant of all was that night in the Garden of Gethsemane when the true personal cost of His mission to save us all came into stark focus as He begged His heavenly Father to take this cup from Him. It was a brief snapshot of life on the front line of ministry. Jesus was not weak or disobedient when He asked the Father to remove Him from this place of suffering – He was just human. He was just being brutally honest and telling God how He felt right at that point. “I can’t do this. It’s just too hard.”

Have you been at that point with God? Have you faced your Gethsemane moment? Maybe you have faced more than one. I believe those of us in front line ministry will find ourselves at that point many times throughout our life. It’s not where we begin our cries to God that matter – but where we end. Jesus began facing the raw, painful reality of what obedience was going to cost Him, but He ended with,“Not my will, Father, but Yours be done.”

Many years ago as I knelt before God and pleaded with Him to take the cup I was holding at that time, I went through the same transition. I began by being completely honest with God and telling Him what He already knew. I was done. I was over it. I could not go on. It was simply too hard on me and my family and I was not prepared to pay the price of front line ministry anymore. So I began to write down how I felt in what became a song. I was brutally honest and transparent. I wrote the first chorus and verse one night and then went to bed in that frame of mind. But as I woke the next day and continued to pour out my heart to God, He poured out His heart to me and I recalled the strength of God’s call and His promise to never leave me and always go before me – no matter how hard it seemed at time. So I ended the song in a different place to where I began – in the same way that Jesus took His cup again that night with renewed commitment and courage – knowing that this was the Father’s will for Him.

I will leave you with the words I believe God gave me in the midst of that struggle many years ago in the hope that today, or at some point in your journey, they will resonate with your heart and journey and give you to courage to drink from the cup God has given you.

Father, Take this Cup

Father take this cup from me and find another way
remove this heavy mantle that I wear
I know this is my calling now, but I cannot go on
the pain and hurt is just too much to bear!

Lord, You never promised me a journey free from pain
You warned me of the battles, the heartache and the strain
I guess I didn’t really know that I could hurt this way
I never understood the price that I was called to pay

Father take this cup from me and find another way
remove this heavy mantle that I wear
I know this is my calling now, but I cannot go on
the pain and hurt is just too much to bear!

I know it’s for this hour I came, the road ahead is clear
Your Spirit’s voice is calling me above my doubt and fear
Yet in the midst of agony, I know Your word is true
Your precious grace is all I need, Your love will see me through

So Father I will drink this cup – if there’s no other way
this mantle I will wear by grace alone
I’ll fulfil my calling now – by faith, I’ll journey on
it’s Your will I pursue and not my own

© 1996 Robert Griffith