Tuesday, July 2, 2013



A Meditation:  The cross of Jesus Christ~

Celtic cross carved by a friend.
The cross?  Father God, direct my thoughts to the cross.   
What is it about the cross?


The cross-

An instrument of torture; An instrument of rapture. The aloneness, the beauty, the goodness and grace; The loveliness, the shame, the pardon; The sin, hurt and pain; The brokenness, the love, the light of God; The seeking of humankind. The humiliation, the forgiveness, the shed blood; The matchless grace, the atonement; The meaning, the transfigurement, the fulfillment; The redemption, the peace for human souls; Christ’s arms wide open for all. Such great salvation. The finished work; The end, the beginnings, the shame and degradation; The holiness, the willingness.


The cross-
The cross is hope for all generations; The cross is healing, abundant life for the asking; The cross is God’s gift to humankind, it is where truth resides; It cannot be dissolved or removed though many  try, They don’t want to believe; The message endures, the message of life.

Walk in Christ’s truth. 
Do not hide from it or water it down.


During my times with God I often meditate on concepts. A few years ago during a quiet morning, I decided to reflect on the cross. At the time I lived in an old farm house with tall ceilings. The cracks in the walls and ceilings had sealant that had been painted over. New cracks were emerging. I was staring at the ceiling looking to see if I might find two cracks that would intersect in the shape of a cross. Soon I spotted two wavy lines criss-crossing each other in the center of the ceiling.  I focused on that informal simplistic cross and began to pray and meditate.  My thoughts were fully focused and active. Amazing rich considerations began to flow through my mind in freedom and abandonment. For many minutes that soon lengthened into a good part of an hour, I continued to think on the cross. It seemed as if the room brightened and I was in a holy place on holy ground. Tears were in my eyes as I prayed and spoke in praise, awe, and adoration to God. Mostly I opened my mind to thoughts on the cross, alive and true were the words. I remember that I chose to not stop and write for I felt it was inappropriate at the moment. Instead I absorbed the beauty of being alone with God, thinking on the cross of Jesus Christ and what it meant to me. 

The thoughts I had that day were especially keen and rich. Some I have never thought again. When the time was over I found myself unable to recall the words which had flowed so easily. I have often wished that I had written them down, but maybe that was just the point; it was not for another time.

The cross means many things to many people. It is a symbol of something cool to many who wear it dangling on a chain around their neck. Something about the cross captures people. But, they have failed to realize its purpose. The cross is a powerful symbol. I often wished to wear one to work but one is limited as a public school teacher. I own a few crosses. Each is different. They speak to me of Christ and the most significant act of all time, the most pivotal important moment for all eternity. In times past as in the Old Testament days, people looked forward toward the cross, when full redemption would be given for remission of sins. In times since the cross, people look back to the cross. Even how time and years are accounted for on time-lines is in reference to the time of the cross of Christ. To some of us, the cross means life in Christ.  It is something we identify with because we love the Christ of the cross.

Moving from one house to another is never easy. I was in the midst of moving a few months ago, frustrated and tired, anxious about the process, when I stopped for awhile to spend time with God. My spirit was down and I felt overwhelmed, saddened by a couple of things in my personal life. I happened to glance up from where I sat on the divan. On the T.V. screen I saw a cross. The T. V. screen was reflecting an image from a mirror. The cross was reflecting in a mirror which had recently been moved into the living room for loading up. The image was that of a Celtic cross.  I had been given the cross from a friend who had carved it as a gift for me. Seeing the cross at that moment was like a gift. It centered me. I felt its renewal and encouragement.

I continue to reflect on the cross. Sometimes I write about it as in the two writings I recorded from my journal for you to read in the opening of this writing. The words that often come to me as I think on it are from an old song, “Room at the Cross.” 
A picture of what I saw that day.

The cross upon which Jesus died,
Is a shelter in which we can hide,
His grace, so free; Is sufficient for me
As wide as the ocean, And as deep as the sea.
There’s room at the cross for you. . .”

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