The cross that fits me, it’s brought life
It was the culmination of a long, hard, pain-wracked flight to the Far Country by our prodigal; the severe, stubborn mercy of Lord Christ; and the trial by fire that purified. For so many long months, I could not speak of it in public and even now, I am very careful, for the story’s not all mine. It’s his, too. But I will no longer allow the thoughts and opinions and judgments of others to cloud the truth of Papa’s kindness, His love and redemption in our lives.
No one else is that powerful. No one else gets that place. And so, in obedience, I speak, for there are so many other desperate and hurting and stricken parents loving runners. This is for Him, and it’s for you, this message from Easter 2014…
Driving through fog on a grey, wet April day, I see the signs. Leaves a-budding on tips of trees, snow banks gone ‘longside the road, and the rain, that herald of spring, has come.
Spring; new birth. Easter; new life. But first, the winter, and death.
Easter, with resurrection life and promise. Sweet Easter that came through a cross and a tomb. Death first. That came, then life.
In mind’s eye, I see a rough-hewn cross, mark of death, fierce pain. Of nails piercing skin, drawing blood, taking life.Alone on a hill, a cross…
And I’m thinking of my cross. Mine. The one with my name. That fits my back, tailored for me.
I have a prodigal son.
Of all the crosses there are in the world. Of all the things that mothers can bear, this is not the one that I wanted. This instrument of pain drawing blood, swift and sure. The nails that tear, ripping skin, piercing heart. The death-pangs that burn, fire like, in the night.
No, this is not the cross that I wanted. But it’s the cross that I needed. For the cross that brings death, brings life. Here’s how.
It’s been in the heat and the press of this long, difficult journey that my Lord’s used this cross to bring death, death I needed. By allowing me to face some of the things I most feared, He’s helped me to conquer my fears.
By taking me to a place of utter extremity, He’s helped me to open my hands and say this, “They are yours. Here they are.” Then this, “Me, too.” And to lay us all down on an altar.
By taking me through deepest flood, hottest fire, He’s teaching me that flames cannot burn, nor flood drown.
By giving me practice at dying to pride, He’s teaching me His sweetest humility (we’re still working :D).
By bringing me clean to the end of myself, I’ve found in the end, that He’s there. Right there.
And so I embrace all the work of this cross, and I open my heart to its death. Because I know this, that while crosses bring death, life always and ever comes after.
I’ve chosen life. Life through death on a cross. Lived in Him, through Him, for Him and by Him. Not by me or my strength, but in His.
If you have a prodigal, take heart. And know, dear friend, that He’s working. It’s not yet the time to tell you in full, for the story’s not mine. It’s my son’s. But I can tell you this, that God, He is faithful. His promises are true, His word never fails, and we have so much hope for the future.
“Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless His holy name (Ps. 103:1).”
In Him and for Him,
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P.S. – The cross in the photo above? Our once-runner and former prodigal erected that in a woods just nearby, and yesterday we had the lovely privilege of joining him there in the woods just before that old cross, and we listened to the Easter story. Together.