Lent Reflection #2 :: The Thing About Crosses

Christ Carrying the Cross'', oil on canvas painting by Titian, 67 x 77 cm, c. 1565. Museo Nacional del Prado}} |Source =Museo Nacional del Prado |Author =Titian |Date =c. 1565 |Permission

Christ Carrying the Cross”, oil on canvas painting by Titian, 67 x 77 cm, c. 1565. Museo Nacional del Prado}} |Source =Museo Nacional del Prado |Author =Titian |Date =c. 1565 |Permission

After calling the crowd together with his disciples, Jesus said to them, “All who want to come after me must say no to themselves, take up their cross, and follow me.” (Mark 8v34)

I’m going to assume, for just a moment, that you know some of the details of what Jesus is talking about—that “taking up your cross” means taking up something that is very shameful and painful.

But there’s one more thing about crosses:

… they’re big.

You see, the thing about crosses (and taking them up) is that they are very difficult to hide. Crosses are just “out there” for all the world to see (one of the reasons that the Roman government reserved crucifixion for rebels and terrorists was so that they could very publicly proclaim, “Does everyone see what happens to people who choose to disobey Rome?”)

Most of the time, I feel like I get the part about carrying my own pain and shame, but what I miss is the idea about my cross being public, being shared with others. It’s one thing to acknowledge your pain and shame; it’s another thing entirely to choose to share it with someone.

It’s an easy assumption that we all have painful secrets; what would it look like for you to share them with someone during this Lenten season? What would it look like to really take up your cross in a public way?

Is there something you need to share?

Interestingly enough, as Jesus carries his own very real, very heavy cross to the place of his crucifixion, we’re told that the soldiers pulled a man out of the crowd and forced him, of all things, to help Jesus carry his cross.

Simon, a man from Cyrene, Alexander and Rufus’ father, was coming in from the countryside. They forced him to carry his cross. (Mark 15v21)

So maybe, just maybe, that as we make our crosses visible to others, we find that they will lend their shoulders, their strength, their faith to us, and make our walk just a little lighter.

p.s. I the title for this post was inspired by a song written by a good friend of mine named David Greco. He’s a great singer and songwriter, and an even better person. Please support his music and make him famous.

 

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Just Start Walking

By Alex S(User talk:Alex S).Alex S at en.wikipedia [GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html) or CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/)], from Wikimedia Commons

Jerusalem, by Alex S(User talk:Alex S).Alex S at en.wikipedia [GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html) or CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/)%5D, from Wikimedia Commons

Lent begins today, and many of us have already made preparations: we’ve prayerfully considered what we will surrender during this time, we’ve made arrangements for our fasts, we have sought out an Ash Wednesday gathering to be a part of.

All of these are good, good things.

But they’re not the best thing.

One of the verses that always gives me pause is located in Luke 9.

As the time approached when Jesus was to be taken up into heaven, he determined to go to Jerusalem (v51).

The Greek for this passage would read something a little more like: “He resolutely set his face to go Jerusalem.” The phrase indicates a sense of courage and determination. Moreover, it is also a reference to Isaiah 50v8:

The LORD God opened my ear; I didn’t rebel;
I didn’t turn my back.
Instead, I gave my body to attackers,
and my cheeks to beard pluckers.
I didn’t hide my face from insults and spitting.
The LORD God will help me; therefore, I haven’t been insulted.
Therefore, I set my face like flint, and knew I wouldn’t be ashamed.
The one who will declare me innocent is near. Who will argue with me?
Let’s stand up together. Who will bring judgment against me?
Let him approach me (vv5-8).

Jesus is on his way to Jerusalem, knowing what is waiting for him: insults, beatings, and attempts to discredit and shame him. He goes, however, with a steadfast faith in God’s call on his life, and a belief that ultimately God will vindicate him through the resurrection.

And here’s the deal:  his disciples are on the road to Jerusalem with him.

Lent is ultimately not about giving up chocolate, or fasting, or praying extra prayers, or attending gatherings, or anything. These are great—even necessary—tools, but for me Lent is ultimately about “setting my face” towards Jerusalem and journeying there with Jesus, with no agenda but to follow Him, and to attempt to be present, really present, through this last season of His ministry. 

As we begin our Lenten journey, don’t just commit to giving up something; don’t just commit to an extra gathering or devotion.

Commit to walking with Jesus on his road to Jerusalem. 

Commit to staying with him during his time of trial.

Commit to staying faithful to him when he is arrested. 

Commit to being with him at the Cross. 

And here’s the deal: He knows our weakness, just like he knew the disciples’. He knows that we will fall asleep, that we will look away, that we will deny him.

But he invites us anyway.

 

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Again, and again, and again.