This powerful poem about Christ’s Crucifixion, The Cup, is a heart-rending drama to help you appreciate the cost of your salvation. Suitable for Good Friday, Easter, or any time of the year. Here you can do two things:
1.Push the play button to listen to the author read the poem with appropriate mood music
2. Choose scroll to follow as he reads.
The Cup
Sweat drops like blood trickle down Jesus’ brow.
“Father, please! Take away this cup!”
“Yet, not my will, but yours be done.”
The Arrest
Smoke from blazing torches fogs up the night,
Joins with thunderous marching,
A legion of Roman soldiers armored for a fight.
In their company
A dozen religious leaders
Parade in ornate flowing robes,
They follow an insane man up the hill of Gethsemane,
To capture their enemy, Jesus.
“Halt!” a tribune orders.
Judas steps forward and kisses Jesus,
Betraying his Lord and friend.
“Seize Jesus!” yells the commander.
“Am I leading a rebellion,
That you come with swords and clubs?” Jesus asks.
“But this is your hour—when the power of darkness reigns.”
Injustice and Torture [1]
Soldiers hustle Jesus
Before three illegal trials that night.
Priests blindfold his eyes,
Spit on him,
Punch, rear back and slap him full on the face,
Then accuse him of blasphemy,
For Jesus claims he’s God’s Son,
An unbearable disgrace.
At dawn, the conspirators drag Jesus before Pontius Pilate,
Charge him for subverting the nation,
Opposing the payment of taxes,
And alleging, he’s a king.
“Crucify him! Crucify him!”
The religious leaders incite the crowds.
“We have no king but Caesar!”
Jesus’ innocence is of no consequence,
for Pilate yields to the peoples’ demands–
The governor’s position, he commands.
Soldiers drag Jesus away to Pilate’s Palace,
Crack sharp-toothed whips on his back,
Rip his flesh and tendons,
And tear out his beard.
They adorn him with an ornate robe,
Slap it on and rip it off his gaping wounds,
Cram a Crown of thorns upon his head,
Mock him,
And beat his face beyond recognition.
The Crucifixion
At Golgotha, they strip Jesus naked,
Exposing him to shame,
Yank him down and pin him onto his raw, tortured back
Upon a rough-hewn cross.
Jesus cries out–intense pain!
One soldier thrusts his stud-sandaled foot on Jesus’ chest,
Another holds his knees,
Two more stretch out Jesus’ arms and bind them with rope
To the crossbeam,
Then hammer long spikes to the post,
Through his hands and feet.
Searing, screaming pain,
Like red hot iron pokers
The soldiers lower Jesus’ cross in place
With a jarring thud.
His shoulders dislocate,
Twitching,
Pulling,
Writhing,
Upward thrusts on the cross for each breath
Scrape his hemorrhaging back.
Spike-pierced ankles and wrists
Support his trembling frame.
Agony, excruciating pain,
Again, and again and again—
A six-hour scene.
Clouds hide the light,
Pitch black at mid-day–
God abandons his Son,
Jesus bears our sin and shame.
“My God… my God…why have you forsaken me?” Jesus cries.
No answer came.
Much blood loss, weak, and exhausted, Jesus’ head bobbles.
“Finished!” with a last effort he shouts,
“Into your hands I commit my spirit.”
God’s Purpose for the Cup
What was God’s purpose in allowing Satan’s agents
To torture and kill Jesus?
Did the devil win?
Jesus drank the cup of God’s wrath for our sin,
Laid down his life,
Provided a perfect sacrifice,
Died in our place, taking our guilt, punishment, and shame.
The cup’s now empty,
For Jesus arose from the grave
If we believe and receive his sacrifice for sin, we, too, he saves.
He restores our relationship with God,
Breaks Satan’s power to defeat us,
And reserves our place in heaven,
All because of
The cup
[1]
Luke 22:53a,c, NIV,
Isa 53:7-8 (NIV) He was oppressed and afflicted, yet he did not open his mouth; he was led like a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is silent, so he did not open his mouth. By oppression and judgment he was taken away
An Inspirational poem by Rodney Harrier, © 2022.
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