Can the Cross Be Seen From Where You Are?

The Gospels tell the story of God inserting himself into our story in the flesh and blood of his son, Jesus of Nazareth.  Each biography accounts for selected events in the life of the Savior according to the audience to whom they were writing.  For example, Luke is the only one that tells us the story of Jesus in the temple as a young boy of twelve --- the first year he would have been allowed in the temple.  That is a very Greek way of writing about heroes, sharing a scene from childhood that demonstrates that the hero we know was already becoming a hero as a boy. 

Matthew has a deep interest in noting how events in the life of the Messiah fulfilled prophecy.  His gospel is not chronological and is instead grouped along the lines of subject matter, a very Jewish way of writing.  His goal is to reach his Hebrew brethren with the good news.  Mark seems to be written to a Roman audience.  It is a bit more concise.  And John’s gospel, written several decades after the other three, addresses some theological issues concerning the nature and identity of Jesus Christ that had arisen over the early days of Christianity. 

But the biographers are on a race to the cross. 

In all four gospels the bulk of writing is reserved for the final week of Jesus’ life.  His birth, his boyhood, his three years as a traveling teacher, are all covered in a Cliff’s Notes kind of arrangement including prominent scenes and dialogues.  But the days immediately leading up to, and the hours immediately during, the crucifixion are chronicled in dramatic detail. 

It seems to me the crucifixion of Jesus is the epicenter of God’s story. 

Well, of course it is, right?  I am not telling you anything new.  In fact, the cross has become the symbol of our faith.  It dots our landscapes on church buildings.  It adorns our bodies in ornate jewelry.  It lives through the ages in art.  If you paid special attention one day to noticing this ancient symbol you would be surprised how many times you see a cross. 

On Interstate 40 just east of Amarillo, near the small town of Groom, is a cross that stands 190 feet tall.  Ten million people pass by this landmark every year and, according to their website, one thousand people stop.  It can be seen from twenty miles away.  Interestingly, a group from Illinois was inspired by the epic structure and decided to build one for themselves.  Eight feet taller.    

The cross is precious to us as people of faith.  It is a reminder of the amazing grace and love of our God. The place where my burdens are lifted and my sins are pardoned.  A reminder of the kind of God Abraham met next to the altar where his son lay ready to be killed.   A God who intervened and proclaimed a promise that echoes throughout eternity.  “I will provide the sacrifice.” 

The cross is the symbol I cling to in my imperfections, knowing that God loves me even when I am at my worst.  It makes me right with Him by virtue of the one perfect sacrifice to end all sacrifices.  I am righteous in God’s sight because he sees me through the atoning sacrifice of the unblemished lamb of God.  The lamb’s shed blood ironically washes me clean and makes me pure in the sight of God. 

And the cross is the place where I choose to die. Right? 

It’s where Jesus died for me.  So why do I have to die? 

Jesus died for my sins, and the sins of the world.  That is what happened on the cross.  He died FOR me.  Why would I have to die?  Well, you tell me what we should do with words like these…

Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily and  

follow me.  For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me will save it.   Luke 9:23-24

TAKE UP your cross, and follow me…

Take up YOUR cross, and follow me…

Take up your CROSS, and FOLLOW ME…

God did not mean for the cross to be an historical point of reference.  He meant for it to be an ever present reality. 

A tangible answer to corruption and evil. 

A method for human relationships. 

A way of living that counters culture and turns our own world upside down.

A very bloody way to end bloodshed.

A call to die… so we can truly live. 

And so I wonder, among our landscapes of steeple supported and sky reaching crosses, is the cross really visible?   

Forgotten Miracle

I don't know if you have a specific place in your house where you sit to pay bills.  For me its either the kitchen table or a small wooden desk upstairs.  Both have a hard wooden chair, which fits the uncomfortable task of paying bills.

A couple of weeks ago I was going over our bills and looking at a few receipts while Thomas and his friend Isaiah, who had spent the previous night with us, played in the living room.  A few of you know that we have had quite the summer in the Koelzer household.  Both of our main vehicles had major, expensive issues.  Our refrigerator went out, our water heater went out, our air conditioning went out... twice!  Even the front door knob broke off in my wife's hand.  It was a stressful and very expensive summer.  Sometimes when it rains, it pours.

Of course we are not the only family that has ever had to deal with breaking down appliances and breaking down cars.  And many of you have had a cascade of problems contained within a short amount of time just like us.  But it sure can be depressing.

Thomas and Isaiah came into the kitchen while I was looking up information about pulling the starter off our Corolla to have it tested --- third vehicle to break down.  Isaiah needed me to open a little drink pack he has to to have every day to take care of his transplanted organs.  I gladly opened it for him, patted him on the head, and went back to my computer screen.  As he walked away he asked, "when is Miss Heather going to take us swimming?"

Just as I was about to go upstairs to pull up our carpet and assess the damage from a leaking window (thank you Hurricane Isaac), I heard Isaiah laugh loudly.  And as I turned to look at him I felt like God was speaking to me.  It seemed like he was saying, "Remember?  Do you remember?"

For those of you who do not know, Isaiah Johnson is the  eleven year old adopted son of Aaron and Jennifer Johnson.  He was born with his intestines outside of his body and has spent a large portion of his life in hospitals.  Ike, as he is known at home, had an organ transplant a handful of years ago, and it failed.  Most recently he has had a three organ transplant.  Yes, I said THREE organ transplant, all at once.  On many occasions Isaiah was not only knocking on death's door, but about to break the door down.  And we prayed.  We prayed many times for Isaiah, sometimes at a loss for how to pray.  It seemed at many times that his pain was unbearable so we pondered the possibility of God  taking him home.  Those were tough days.

Isaiah lived.  He has beaten so many odds, and every day is a gift.  There was a time when I would see Isaiah and I would squeeze him tightly, praising God for this very visible miracle among us.  But I guess the new wore off, and I just take it for granted that Isaiah is part of our lives and spending the night with friends and going swimming.

In that casual moment of experiencing a child's laughter I was reminded of God's goodness.  Of how he has showered me with so much blessing, working miracles right before my eyes.  My life, my family... so many, many blessings I take for granted --- like the miraculous presence of a child who will forever occupy a place in my heart.

The book in our Bible called Lamentations is written by the prophet Jeremiah, often called the "weeping prophet."  The book is a lament on the condition of God's people and the overwhelming desolation of their land and city.  However, in the midst of his lament come these encouraging words.

Because of the Lord's great love, we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail.  They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.   Lamentations 3:22-23 

I almost wonder if Jeremiah looked up from his papyrus to see a child laughing at play, and it made him realize that even in the midst of a deluge of lament, God rains down abundant blessing.  And sometimes when it rains... it pours.