On Crosses and Love

In my bedroom, there is a cross that hangs above the door, and I can see it from my bed. There are times when I see that cross and feel some sort of tugging on my heart, some sort of feeling that draws my heart closer to that cross and closer to what that cross represents. I know that perhaps that sounds a bit overly sentimental, and I admit I'm pretty guilty of being overly sentimental a times.

And yet, that's not what's going on when this happens. It is as if I, once again, am drawn to that which was written on my heart and soul, this knowledge of the saving grace of Christ's death on the cross. It's as if I, once again, feel in my own heart some small portion of the love of Christ.

And it is His love, so perfect and unending, which lets me know that, no matter how difficult my own cross is to bear, I will never bear it alone; I will always have some help in bearing the burden, shouldering the weight. It is His love which gives me the faith to love Him, to allow myself to believe that God loves me, to allow myself to accept His love.

The other day I was reading a book, Basic Christianity, which I've been slowly working through for some months now. I came across a passage that really spoke to my heart, really reminded me of why I became a Christian. Here it is:

"Only a sight of the cross will make us willing to deny ourselves and follow Christ. Our little crosses are eclipsed by his. If we once catch a glimpse of the greatness of his love to suffer such shame and pain for us who deserved nothing but judgment, only one course of action will seem to be left. How can we deny or reject such a lover?

If, then, you suffer from moral anaemia, take my advice and steer clear of Christianity. If you want to live a life of easy-going self-indulgence, whatever you do, do not become a Christian. But if you want a life of self-discovery, deeply satisfying to the nature God has given you; if you want a life of adventure in which you have the privilege of serving him and your fellow men; if you want a life in which to express something of the overwhelming gratitude you are beginning to feel for him who died for you, then I would urge you to yield your life, without reserve and without delay, to you Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ" (119).

I read it and, again, I just felt that tugging on my heart, that feeling of my heart welling up inside my chest. Perhaps I am overly sentimental. And yet, I don't believe that's all there is to it. I believe that feeling in my heart is the knowledge that some great truth is being revealed, and that truth is the saving grace of Christ.