I looked up exaltation in Webster’s to get an idea of what about a cross could be exalted. It said that to exalt was to elevate in rank, honor, power, character, quality; to praise, to extol. It is difficult to feel that way about the cross—an instrument of death; but what we celebrate today is what Jesus’ sacrifice did for us. By His wounds we are healed. He suffered dying on the cross for our salvation. He has reminded us that we all must carry our own crosses to be transformed and conform to Discipleship.
When life is hard we are primed to learn something absolutely central to life. Our wounds are God's hiding place and hold our greatest gifts. It is no surprise really, that a dramatically wounded man became the central transformative symbol of Christianity. Once the killing of God becomes the redemption of the world, then forevermore the very worst things have the power to become the very best things. From now on, nothing can be a dead end; everything is capable of new meaning. We are saved by gazing upon the wounded one—and loving our own woundedness and everyone else's too. We can dare to be mutually vulnerable instead of trying to protect ourselves and impress each other. We can love each other through our woundedness.
I have read that the heart is normally opened through a necessary hole in the soul, a “sacred wound.” Our wounds are the only way, it seems, for us to get out of ourselves and for grace to get in. As Leonard Cohen put it in his song, “Anthem,” “There is a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.”
Today we exalt in the cross because of what God has done for us: “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but might have eternal life.” We cherish the cross as the instrument of our salvation because Chris was lifted up, “so that everyone who believes in him might have eternal life.” We thank God for the Cross and all it means for us. Take up your cross and follow Him.
Keep singing!
Elizabeth Dyc
When life is hard we are primed to learn something absolutely central to life. Our wounds are God's hiding place and hold our greatest gifts. It is no surprise really, that a dramatically wounded man became the central transformative symbol of Christianity. Once the killing of God becomes the redemption of the world, then forevermore the very worst things have the power to become the very best things. From now on, nothing can be a dead end; everything is capable of new meaning. We are saved by gazing upon the wounded one—and loving our own woundedness and everyone else's too. We can dare to be mutually vulnerable instead of trying to protect ourselves and impress each other. We can love each other through our woundedness.
I have read that the heart is normally opened through a necessary hole in the soul, a “sacred wound.” Our wounds are the only way, it seems, for us to get out of ourselves and for grace to get in. As Leonard Cohen put it in his song, “Anthem,” “There is a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.”
Today we exalt in the cross because of what God has done for us: “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but might have eternal life.” We cherish the cross as the instrument of our salvation because Chris was lifted up, “so that everyone who believes in him might have eternal life.” We thank God for the Cross and all it means for us. Take up your cross and follow Him.
Keep singing!
Elizabeth Dyc
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