The Cup, the Cross, and the Island

What you’re about to read isn’t a new chapter of the Bible, and it’s not an attempt to add to Scripture. It’s a creative reflection that grew from a recent sermon I shared—a moment where I found myself drawn into the story of James and John asking Jesus for seats beside Him in His glory.

As I sat with that passage, I began to imagine what John might have written years later, looking back on that bold request from the lonely shores of Patmos. How might he reflect on the cost of discipleship, the call to servanthood, and the journey from ambition to surrender?

This letter is written from that place of imagination—not to replace the Word, but to help us reflect more deeply on it. I hope it stirs your heart and offers a fresh perspective. Be blessed as you read.

John, a servant of Jesus Christ, to all who have been called into His marvellous light. Grace and peace to you from Him who is, who was, and who is to come. I, your brother and fellow partaker in the suffering, the kingdom, and the patient endurance that are ours in Jesus, write to you from the island of Patmos. I have been exiled here because of the word of God and the testimony of Jesus. The rulers of this world sought to silence me, to remove my voice from the churches, to isolate me in this barren place. But they do not know my Lord. They do not understand that the Word of God cannot be bound, nor can His kingdom be hindered. I sit on this island, cut off from my brothers and sisters, yet I am not alone. The Lord, who promised never to leave or forsake us, is with me. His presence is my comfort. His Spirit strengthens me. And though my body may be bound to this rocky shore, my heart is still with you, my beloved brethren.

The Journey to Exile How did I come to be in this place? How did I, once a fisherman in Galilee, a disciple of our Lord, find myself exiled to this desolate island? The road to Patmos was paved with faithfulness, with a refusal to be silent about the truth of Christ. After our Lord's ascension, I, along with my brothers in the faith, carried His message to the ends of the earth. We preached in synagogues and the streets before rulers and peasants alike. And with each proclamation of the gospel, opposition rose against us. I was in Ephesus when they came for me. The Roman authorities, growing weary of the influence of the gospel, sought to quench its flame. I was arrested, dragged before the proconsul, and commanded to renounce the name of Jesus.

But how could I deny the One who is the way, the truth, and the life? For this, I was beaten. They sought to break my body, to weaken my resolve. But the Lord was my strength. When their punishments failed to silence me, they chose another path—exile. They sent me to Patmos, a place of isolation, far removed from the churches I loved, hoping that here my voice would be silenced.

Life on Patmos Patmos is a place of desolation, a rocky island in the Aegean Sea. The land is barren, the soil unyielding. There are no grand cities, no crowded marketplaces—only jagged cliffs and the unceasing roar of the waves. The Romans use this place to cast away those they deem a threat to their rule. Criminals and exiles share these shores, bound together by fate and misfortune. The days here are long, and the nights are lonely. Food is scarce, and comfort is but a distant memory.  Yet, I have found an even deeper fellowship with my Lord in this solitude. The silence of Patmos has become a sanctuary, a place where heaven speaks and the Spirit reveals mysteries beyond my understanding. Here, in this place of exile, I was in the Spirit on the Lord's Day, and I heard a loud voice like a trumpet behind me, saying, "Write on a scroll what you see and send it to the seven churches." And so, even in exile, the Lord has given me a task—to write, testify, and proclaim His words to His people. The Cost of Discipleship I have been given time to reflect. Time to remember. And in these years of solitude, I have often thought back to the road we walked with Jesus—the journey that led us to Jerusalem for the last time. The journey that led Him to the cross. I think of that day when my brother James and I approached the Lord with a request. We believed we were asking for a throne, but we were asking for a cross. A question was asked of us that day—a question that, in our youthful ambition, we answered too quickly. It is a question that each of you must answer as well. "Can you drink the cup I drink?" Let me tell you how that day unfolded. The Road to Jerusalem It was the season of Passover. The streets were alive with the footsteps of thousands of pilgrims, all making their way toward the Holy City. The air was thick with the scent of burning sacrifices, prayers, and the cries of merchants selling their wares to travellers. For us, it was not the first time we had walked this road with Jesus. But this time, something was different. We felt it. Jesus was silent. He had always been a man of deep contemplation, but this was something else. His expression was fixed as if He could already see something beyond what our eyes could perceive. Three times, He had warned us about what was to come. "The Son of Man will be delivered into the hands of men. They will mock Him, spit on Him, flog Him, and kill Him. But after three days, He will rise." (Mark 10:33-34) But we did not understand. How could we? We had seen Him walk on water. We had seen Him command demons to flee with a single word. We had watched as He touched the eyes of the blind and gave them sight as He raised a dead man from his tomb. We had witnessed Him silence the Pharisees with wisdom no man could refute. How could such a man suffer? No, it could not be. If He was going to Jerusalem, it was for one purpose—to take His rightful place as King. And James and I? We wanted to be at His side.

The Cup of Suffering  We thought we had asked for glory. But what we had truly asked for was a cross. We thought we were asking for the honour. But we were asking for suffering. James drank that cup first. He was the first among us to lay down his life for the gospel. Herod's sword fell, and my brother entered into glory. The cup of suffering Jesus spoke of? He drank it. And I? I have lived long, but not without suffering. I have been imprisoned. Beaten. Stoned. Shipwrecked. And now, I sit alone, in exile on Patmos. Not in a place of honour, but still in the hands of my King. If I could go back in time and Jesus were to ask me that question again, knowing what I know now, my answer would be different: "Lord, I do not fully understand the road ahead, but I trust You. If the cup You drink is one of suffering, then I know it is also one of obedience and love. I will follow wherever You lead—not for glory, not for position, but because You have the words of eternal life. Strengthen me to walk the path You have prepared, whatever it may bring." May the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ be with you all. John