I was about 14 and sitting in a church pew when the preacher told us to close our eyes and picture the scene of Jesus on the cross. He said, “How many of you see a hill far away with a cross silhouette on top?” I wasn’t sure if we were suppose to raise our hands or not and I’m not sure if anyone did so, but the minister said, “A few of you… OK.” Next he said, “How many of you see the cross a bit closer with more detail as if standing in the crowd. You can see Jesus, his wounds, perhaps his tears? Some more hands.” Both of these images had been my own view of the cross at one time or another in my life. It was typical of many images I had see growing up. Yet, there was one more view I would be given that day that I had never seen or even thought of… He continued, “How many of you, when you close your eyes and view the cross, see it from the foot of the cross. So close you can touch the rough carving of the wood, smell the sweat, and hear His last words, His final breath. Can you touch the dirt, soaked with His blood?” I opened my eyes, “What kind of view is this?” I thought. It was that moment I realized that the cross of Christ was not a distant cross, not a distant silhouette, but rather a personal cross, one that could be touched.

The cross is a lot bigger up close than I thought. It’s solid wood and heavier than it looks. It’s rough and course, full of imperfections. It’s porous and stained. It’s a terrible tool yet simply crafted to fulfill it’s designed. It holds nails without splitting. It takes the weight of a man without breaking. It offers no relief and it’s not possible to escape it’s hold… at least on your own. It’s a wicked awful way to die.

Being at the foot of the cross for the first time let me see one more thing that I had missed by being so far back… This was my cross. Oh God, have mercy on me, a sinner!

Psalm 51:1
Have mercy on me, O God, according to your unfailing love; according to your great compassion blot out my transgressions.

The cross to me is death. There’s no way around it. However, Jesus on the cross to me is life. It is Jesus, Yeshua, that makes the cross powerful; it is not the cross that makes Yeshua powerful.

Isaiah 53:5
But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed.

Jesus was life and He would come so that we could have living to the fullest. Each Child held, every blind man who saw, every crippled person who would walk, every thirsty woman filled and every tear that has been wiped away is the foundation of the Messiah’s cross that brings life and defeats death.

Isaiah 25:8
He will swallow up death forever. The Sovereign LORD will wipe away the tears from all faces; he will remove the disgrace of his people from all the earth. The LORD has spoken.

In 1707, Isaac Watts wrote “When I Survey the Wondrous Cross” for a communion service. Many songs at the time were repetition of Psalms and doctrines. This song, by Watts, is the first known hymn to be written in the first person, introducing a personal Christ experience rather than limiting itself to doctrine. Isaac Watts penned his final thoughts on communion as one who has seen the cross of Christ. It’s a perspective that’s a wonderful reminder to me… when I close my eyes.

“Love so amazing, so divine, demands my soul, my life, my all.”

Peace.
Johno~