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My Cup Tippeth Over

I sat my glass there on the table,

feeling hopeful,

feeling able

But then I saw my glass be tipped

The hope I felt,

I felt it slip

From the table,

to the ground,

I watched it fall,

though it made no sound

For some disappointments,

they come not crashing,

but in soft blows,

as light bumps in passing

I picked up my glass,

there off the floor,

expecting its inside,

to hold substance no more

But an empty glass I did not retrieve,

it was a glass half full!

I could scarcely believe.

How could this be,

when my eyes saw it fall?

Could it be this substance

wasn’t in my cup at all?

Could it be this substance was in me?

Granting my eyes the perspective to see,

a glass never half empty,

just with room,

to be filled to the plenty

And to the plenty indeed,

do I know Goodness exceeds,

until our cups overflow,

weeping as the willow


I think one of my biggest discontentments while residing in my spiritual wilderness, my canyon, as I’ve referred to it, was the absence of a source of hope. I felt hope, but it came as gusts of wind, only to settle back into a despairing stillness over and over again.

All of the earthly sources I had tried to establish as solid springs of hope only dried up, withering me with them as they did.

Recently I’ve entered into an earthy wilderness of sorts, unsure of where to really go in the next steps of life. Instead of fear and despair towards the near future to come, I have found rest and peace in the promises of Goodness to come.

Apprehension still clouds some of my days, most definitely, but I’m discovering how in this wilderness, God sends glorious rainfall through the gathering clouds.

This is the eternal hope I believe creation to ache for, the eternal hope I believe creation is meant to rest in.

And this is the hope I found in my canyon, when I truly gave into the ache, and it sent me crumbling to the ground.

I think perhaps this ache is the soul clinging to earthy crutches it is not meant to hold. Grasping so tightly onto these mortal constructs we know cannot actually support the weight of all we feel and experience.

This ache, this stress of the body holding onto things it is not meant to, may we release this grip. May we collapse with the collapse of these constructs.

In defeat, laying on the ground, holding onto nothing… my friends, what an opportunity this is to rest. The lightness felt when we release the burdens and pinings of this world is precisely the promise of Jesus when he comforts us that His yoke is easy, and His burden is light.1

This lightness, this release, hope roots itself here. When we rise from the ground, we rise in perseverance. We rise, with stronger character.2 We rise, with an eternal hope, knowing when we falter again, so too shall we rise again. For believing the Gospel of Christ is believing resurrection is the great theme of our lives. Believing the Gospel of Christ is not holding onto, but resting, in this eternal source of hope.

This is the hope I boast. The hope that keeps my cup not just half full, but overflowing.


1. Matthew 11:30

2. Romans 5:3-4


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