The Cross

Today is Good Friday. I am still on vacation so instead of thinking about a service or working I will be traveling back and thinking about the Cross. The Cross has become the most recognized and the most popular religious symbol in the world. What is it about the ancient Roman form of execution that has captured the affection of even the most profligate rock musician? The Cross is where my Savior died. It is a symbol of slaughter, of separation, of cruelty, of judgment, of redemption, and of forgiveness. The Cross is where my Savior died. "If I be lifted up, I will draw all men unto me" he said. I have come running to the Cross. It is a gruesome sight. A body nailed to a tree yet still alive...writhing. The deeper pain is the ripping of relationship between Father and Son. The loneliness of the Cross swallowing Jesus alive. The Cross is where my Savior died. Finally, the scream of completion. "It is finished". Triumphant? Relief? Like a marathon runner lurching over the finish line? But it is there, at that moment my soul leaps. Like the baby in the womb of Elizabeth so my soul leaps because of a transfer at the very throne of God. A transfer of sin for righteousness, of righteousness for sin. My life, my heart for his life, for his heart. And that is why we call it Good Friday. Because today is when my Savior gave himself for me. Behold the cross. It is where my Savior died.