Half A Cup

coffee cupWhen I was seven years old, our family went to New York City.  One of my memories from that trip was having breakfast at a small diner in Manhattan.  My wide-eyes had never seen anything like it.  The waitress was yelling out orders, the cook was yelling right back, people were yelling for more coffee…it was New York City mayhem at it’s finest.  There was more noise and chaos in that little place than I had seen in all my seven years on the farm.  At one point, the waitress was moving so fast that she knocked over a tray of empty coffee cups.  She picked up one cup that was broken clean in half down the middle, held it up in the air and shouted, “Who wants half a cup?!”  The customers broke out in laughter and cheers, so we did too.  When in New York……

I thought of that story the other day when I was reading Philippians 3.  This is such a great chapter that I’m putting some of it to memory, starting with verse 10. “I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection…”  Coming off of Easter and a fresh sense of wonder and awe at Christ’s resurrection, this verse sends goose bumps up my spine.  What would it be like to really know the kind of power that could take a dead, beaten, bloody body and breath life back into it?  Wow.  Count me in — I want to have that Very. Same. Power.

Verse 10 isn’t done, though.

“….and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings…”

Wait.  What?

Hold on just a second.

Power?  Yes, please!

 Suffering?  *crickets*

Who wants half a verse?

Like the shattered cup, half holds nothing.

True power rises up out of true suffering.

And actually, our hurts and disappointments are just a share of what Christ suffered….

and honestly, fellowship thrives when brothers and sisters carry each other’s burdens.

Jesus took the whole cup.

I should, too.

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