The cross first made an impact in my life when I was about 7 or 8 years of age. I remember attending a Holiday Bible Club at the church we attended where I heard the story of the crucifixion and realised that Jesus died for me. That night I knelt by my bed before going to sleep and asked Jesus into my life. It was the realisation that Jesus had been willing to die to save me that led me to pray that prayer.
Later, as an under-confident teenager I came to think and feel that I was not good enough for God because I was self-critical and felt that I was inadequate in many respects. One evening I talked about these feeling to a leader at the Church Youth Club that I was then attending. He pointed me to Romans 5. 8 which says “God proves his love for us in that while we still were sinners Christ died for us”. His argument was that the cross reveals that we are loved as we are. We don’t need to change in order to be loved by God. Any change that may be necessary will come once we realise that we are loved by God and will come about because of gratitude for that love. As a result, I gradually became more confident in myself because I understood deep down that I was fully loved by God. Again, it was Christ’s death of the cross that brought me to that realisation.
As my understanding of the cross grew, I began to be deeply moved in the way the hymn writer William Walsham How describes in ‘It is a thing most wonderful’ when he writes:
I sometimes think about the cross,
and shut my eyes, and try to see
the cruel nails and crown of thorns,
and Jesus crucified for me.
I continue to find it amazing and deeply moving that Jesus was prepared to suffer and die for my sake. A song about the cross that has always moved me since I first heard it is ‘How could you say no’ by Julie Miller:
Thorns on his head spear in his side
Yet it was a heartache that made him cry
He gave his life so you would understand
Is there any way you could say no to this man
If Christ himself were standing here
Face full of glory and eyes full of tears
And he held out his arms and his nail printed hands
Is there any way you could say no to this man
How could you look in his tear-stained eyes
Knowing it's you he's thinking of
Could you tell him you're not ready to give him your life
Could you say you don't think you need his love
Jesus is here with his arms open widе
You can see him with your heart if you'll stop looking with your eyes
Hе's left it up to you, he's done all that he can
Is there any way you could say no to this man
‘There was a cross in the heart of God before there was one planted on the green hill in Jerusalem. And now that the cross of wood has been taken down, the one in the heart of God abides, and it will remain so long as there is one sinful soul for whom to suffer.’
Finally, what I’ve realised most recently, through the time I spent at St Martin-in-the-Fields learning from the theology of their Vicar Sam Wells, is that the cross is Jesus’ ultimate demonstration of being with us. If there’s one word that sums up all four gospels, that word is ‘with.’ Jesus’ ministry, above all else, is about being with us, in pain and glory, in sorrow and in joy, in quiet and in conflict, in death and in life.
Jesus then faces true despair on the cross. He experiences the isolation that humankind has brought on itself, and in his case it’s even more ghastly: he’s isolated from God the Father, who seems to have forsaken him. He must choose between being with us and being with the Father. He chooses us. The Father meanwhile must choose between letting Jesus be with us or drawing Jesus back into the Trinity. Both are terrible choices, because they jeopardise the integrity of the Trinity: but there’s no way for God to continue to be God without the commitment to be with costing not less than everything. This then is what is taking place on Good Friday: we behold Jesus, embodying the Trinity’s eternal commitment to be with us, becoming isolated from the Father. Agony of agony: a rupture in the Trinity; a cross in the heart of God.
Is our alienation from God really so profound that it pushes God to such lengths to reverse and heal it? We don’t want to believe it. But here it is, in front of our eyes. That’s what the cross is – our cowardice and cruelty confronted by God’s wondrous love. Is being with us forever really worth God going to such lengths to secure? Now that is, perhaps, the most awesome question of all. It takes us to the heart of God’s identity, and the heart of our own. Can we really believe God thought we were worth it? Are our paltry lives worth the Trinity setting aside the essence of its identity in order that we might be with God and incorporated into God’s life forever?
Jesus’ cry is one of agony that to reach us he had, for a moment, to let go of his Father. What is our cry? Our cry is one of grief, that we were not with him. It’s a cry of astonishment, that he was, despite everything, still with us. And it’s a cry of conviction and commitment, that we will be with him henceforth, and forevermore.
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Julie Miller - How Could You Say No?
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