The preacher, speaking to an audience of teenagers, held their attention like he was holding them in the palm of his hand, and he wasn’t letting them go. His dynamic and charismatic message was drawing the young to the cross, while the props on the table helped pave the path to clarify his message. He spoke boldly and convincingly, quoting Jesus, “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me” (Mt. 16:24).
The items, neatly positioned on the table, were a handful of different crosses which helped move his message forward. Among the varied crosses was an attractive pendant to be worn around the neck. Another was a bookmark to be used while reading. Still, another was a six-foot rugged, heavy cross leaning against the table itself. Each of the crosses had a name attached to it, as if they were made for a specific person. The preacher kept preaching and expounding on the verse, “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me” (Mt. 16:24).
As if responding to an altar call, motivated individuals stood up to “pick up their cross in order to follow Jesus.” The bookworm asked for his cross and was given the pendant. Disappointed, and refusing to accept his cross, he said, “I don’t wear jewelry, I was hoping for the bookmark.” He returned to his seat. The petite girl jumped up like a cheerleader hoping to be given the pendant only to realize her cross was the six-foot rugged cross. Bewildered, she said, “I can’t carry that thing around school. It’s too big, too bulky, too heavy.” Walking back to her seat, someone overheard her say, “I’d hurt myself.” The lineman on the football team, never balking at a challenge, approached the table hoping for the six-foot rugged cross, only to be given a bookmark. A bookmark. The irony was beyond belief. Without saying a word, he set the bookmark back on the table and returned to his seat. Still, the preacher continued his message, “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me” (Mt. 16:24).
The participants in this scenario reflect a mindset prevalent to today’s market. We love to quote Scriptures about the cross, “. . . pick up your cross and follow me.” We love to sing about the cross, “So I’ll cherish the old rugged cross, till my trophies at last I lay down; I will cling to the old rugged cross, and exchange it someday for a crown.” We wear crosses as jewelry, have tattoos of crosses on our bodies, and place crosses as iconography in our churches. But when it comes to picking up our cross to follow Jesus to Golgotha, we tend to take an alternative path.
We saw that alternative path three years ago.
Saying the pandemic was hard on people, society, and churches was an understatement. Hospitalizations overstressed and overworked the health care workers. Death tolls from COIVD-19, no matter how you count the cases, were far greater than we care to admit. Businesses, not deemed essential, were closed, cutting into people’s savings accounts. Schools shifted to online studies putting many at-risk children behind their learning and social developmental curve. Churches were forced to meet outdoors or online as well. And when the doors finally opened, social distancing was the new norm. And still today, one of the biggest mysteries was how there came a rush on toilet paper? Yes, the pandemic was hard on everybody, and sometimes it was far more than we could bear.
Like filling in a coloring book, the Pandemic was filled-in with white noise. We not only speculated on the origin of the virus, but also read into why the government was taking steps for the lockdown protocols, masks, and social distancing. We took our cues from the news media, forming our beliefs based on their perspective of reporting. Questions were raised about our rights being violated. Whether the government was conspiring against its people or taking steps to protect its population was always held in tension. What we didn’t hear enough of was passages from Scripture like this one, “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me” (Mt. 16:24).
We march under the banner of the cross, but sometimes it feels like it’s all talk. We like to read about it in Scripture, sing about it in our hymns, and raise it up as an image in our churches as a heroic moment of triumph. Herein lies the conflict. The cross is not a sign of strength, but a sign of weakness. The cross is not a trophy displaying victory, but a refuse of humiliating defeat. The cross is not an ecstasy of pleasure, but a painful pit of suffering. The cross is not a place of honor, but a place of shame. The cross is not a celebration for winners, but a mockery for losers. The cross is not about success, but it’s all about failure. All of which seems to collide with our current culture consummation and a “conquest at all costs” conviction.
The Corinthians, like us, were enamored with a theology of success, blinding them to the reality of the gospel. They aborded being cruciformed, opting instead to equate the cross with an eloquent speaker whose charisma naturally attracted members. Looking for success, they rejected someone who suffered like Paul, bringing shame on all those who knew him. The form of this gospel, which Paul neither preached nor modeled in his life, was the exact gospel they were endorsing.
Paul was planning to make a visit. He hoped it was to initiate a repented spirit of reconciliation, and to clarify the heart of the gospel. But he had a backup plan, as he was prepared to confront the situation head-on with the power and authority Christ gave him. Thus, he spells out forthrightly, “For to be sure, (Jesus) was crucified in weakness, yet he lives by God’s power. Likewise, we are weak in him, yet by God’s power we will live with him to serve you” (2 Cor. 13:4).
Paul’s words can be spiced into two thoughts. First, the crucifixion was all about weakness, not strength. If Paul wrote those words today he would have underscored them, capitalized them, italicized them, and/or bolded them because this cannot be emphasized enough. Nailing a naked man to a cross for the purpose of insuring the most pain for the longest period, and then mocking and taunting him while he dies, has only one goal: to inflict shame, reproach, and anguish on the individual in the hope of discrediting his strength and character. No one in their right mind looks to a crucified criminal as some hero.
If followers of Christ are going to be shaped by the cross, then we must begin shifting our strategy from winning to losing, from strength to weakness, from honor to shame. Suffering is the new normal standard for people who carry the cross. We don’t demand our rights, as cruciformed followers of Jesus have abdicated our rights. We do not use our influence to manipulate, coerce, or power play a situation to get our way. A cruciformed person has no power. A cruciformed person has no voice. A cruciformed person has no rights. A cruciformed person is no longer concerned with self-preservation.
The second part of Paul’s thought taps into the power of a resurrected person. Paul’s use of power is directed toward the church and how Christ will work through Paul to correct behaviors and rebellion in the church. Such power seems regulated to the apostle, called by Christ himself to a church Paul planted. Such power and its use seem limited in scope. But another power is at play when Paul says, “. . . we will live with him to serve you” (v. 4b). This power is the power to serve. The power to wash feet. The power to put others’ needs and priorities over our own. The power to welcome one into God’s presence. The power to make sure the desires of others are met at the expense of personal preference. The power “to consider other people better than yourself” (Phil. 2:3). The power is to model a cruciformed Christ to the people around us.
If you want to see what this looks like on a daily basis, then look no further than the care we give others through hospice. To quote from our boss, “Hospice is doing the very thing the church should have been doing all along.” We serve. We encourage. We heal. We provide a safety net of support for people facing death, and that is a powerful place to stand.
↓ The preacher kept moving his message forward, coming back to his key verse, “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me” (Mt. 16:24). Soon, the bookworm student came forward in repentance and said, “If I am to deny myself, I’ll carry the cross Jesus assigned to me,” and he reached for the cross pendant, and returned to his seat. The preacher continued preaching until the petite girl step forward and meekly said, “I want to follow Jesus under his terms, not mine. I’ll take the big, rugged cross even if it does hurt me.” She grabbed the cross and dragged it to her seat. The preacher kept preaching when the big brawny football player spoke up, “If he could die on the cross, I can carry a bookmark cross in my science book or my Bible.” Picking up his cross, he sat back down.
A cruciformed life is shaped by the cross, embracing the same shame, weakness, and selflessness Jesus embraced. At the heart of cruciform is Matthew 16:24, “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me” (Mt. 16:24).
Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e., only God is glorified!)