I Don't Like the Cross

Yes, it’s true. I really don’t like the Cross. Mind you, I’m not talking about the one

we normally see in our “Christian culture.” You know the one of which I speak, the

cute one we see on T-shirts and pendants. I’m pretty OK with that one. Occasionally

I’ll see one on a billboard as I drive down the highway – no problem. Crosses adorn

walls of homes and offices – no issues here. I see them for sale all over the place…

polished wooden ones, roughhewn ones, iron crosses intended to look rustic, plastic

ones, etc. Those don’t bother me in the least. Those crosses are decorations and

are worn and displayed as a message to others. “I’m a good person” they say.  “I’m a

‘Christian.’” “I like Jesus.” There is nothing painful or offending about those crosses.

I’m not trying to be cynical or overly critical. I think most of the time people use

these things with good intentions. But allow me to be direct: they’re neither offensive

nor painful. How would the message be different if I displayed a picture of an electric chair on my wall? Or what if I showed up on Wednesday night wearing a T-shirt with a hangman’s noose prominently displayed on the front? Yes, that’s different, isn’t it? These things mean death in horrific ways. These machines of death are

offensive, not quaint. They’re shocking, painful, and contrary to my life. This, friends, is the Cross I don’t like – and for the very same reason.

The Cross I don’t like is the one upon which I must nail my Self. My Self is offended

that it must die. Death is neither quaint nor cute. I hate death, especially as it applies

to me. An aesthetically pleasing cross on a wall as a message to others about

who I am isn’t painful or offensive, but an ugly cross shoved in the dirt of my flesh

and upon which my will, nature, and desires are harshly nailed until they writhe,

gasp, and finally, reluctantly die is a message to me about who God is… and that

message is offensive to my Self. The cute cross that I like is about me and says I am

good. The Cross I hate is about God and says I am corrupt. The Cross I hate casts a

dark shadow that chills the warm feelings I get about how “good” I am in comparison

to others. The Cross I hate offers scorn, ridicule, and embarrassment as my Self

is displayed in all its naked, shameful ugliness. Nothing can hide when it’s nailed to

a Cross. Neither can anything live. I know that if I nail my Self to a Cross – not the

cute one, but the ugly one like Jesus had – it’s not coming down… it’s going to die

painfully.

The Good News is that Jesus offers resurrection. Not for the old Self that died. It,

thankfully, won’t return if it really died. The resurrection of Jesus offers a new self,

one that is dead to Self but alive to God. That’s the thing about resurrection… you

can’t have it without death. And cute crosses don’t kill the Self; they keep it alive.

James McGee 
Abilene,Texas