The Cross

The Cross
by Me

The cross has so many memories, so many burdens, so many dreams, yet it is seen everywhere. It is a symbol of hope, a symbol of death, a symbol of glory. The cross was a form of punishment for criminals. It was dreaded. It was horrible. But people everywhere have a cross. It is on the pulpit at church, women have jewelry containing it, walls are even adorned with them.

Is the cross just a symbol taken for granted? Is there any real meaning?

It is just rough wood. The cross was torturous, not happy, full of pain. But the cross brings peace to the troubled, joy to the heartbroken, and hope to the hopeless. How does a form of punishment become such a well-known symbol?

It is universal for hope, peace, and care. Many songs are sang about its redeeming power. The cross is just wood. Wood from a tree that was cut down. Wood that will be burned when its intended use is no longer needed.

But you tell me that the cross is important? It is necessary? It brings hope? Are you CRAZY!?!?!

It is ordinary. It is natural. It is normal. It is not the cross that is important. It was the act. It was Christ's act on the cross! It was Christ taking on my burdens, my sins! Not the cross! The cross was the instrument used to carry out the deed. But it is the cross that is seen everywhere. There is no way to describe or picture Christ carrying the sin of the world. The cross is the symbol that shares that. The old rugged, ordinary, natural, wooden cross is where my Christ hung so that I maybe free.