For some, your cross is often taken for granted or easily dismissed; a fairytale fading in the memory yet brought out for special occasions. To me it’s so much more than a good luck charm in a pocket or around the neck, more than a fridge magnet or filler of shelf space or time on a Sunday, more than a place of religious roots or last resort.

Its timber was thrown together from a scrap heap but its message far from insignificant, its power beyond compare. The cross, rough and jagged, was soaked in sorrow, pain and grace as it carried my Saviour. It spoke, shouted and sang love, sacrifice, freedom and completion. Right there and then. Purposed, willed from the start of time, from our flawless creator and source of perfection. Divine intervention, necessary, pivotal, world-changing, victory-making. Impacting nations, melting hearts, calling the individual. Wooing me, calling me.

You bled there. My heart goes there. I surrender there.  Right there where it comes back to your divine love, my humanness and my need of a Saviour. Where barriers fall down, my filth is cleaned and my brokenness is repaired. Where I am met by your accepting and loving spirit and find true rest. Where secrets are shared, burdens are lifted and hope and strength rise in me again.  Where your grace is seen so vividly that it more than melts; it takes hold of me. Your cross, before my kneeling frame, carried in my heart, transforming my mind and leading me on. Your cross before me, within me, carried on my shoulders.

Let me never lose sight of its power and glory Jesus. Keep on calling me, drawing me near to your mighty cross. Thankyou, all praise to you Lord because of your love demonstrated on the cross.

Amen.