The Foot of the Cross

Cliche phrases grip the Christian community. It comforts us. They are easy to use and help to answer questions correctly. But cliche phrases started somewhere are carried clout at some point in their existence. I was thinking the other day about my life. I was praying. I told God and reminded myself in prayer that "I needed to come to the foot of the cross with my burdens." And then I stopped to consider what exactly it was that I was saying. In the same way that Albert Einstein solved problems with physics: I began to visualize myself in the situation of bringing myself to the foot of the cross. Here are my thoughts. I will go ahead and say that there are a few things I know will be more presumptuous than fact or even biblical. I know that the way my minds eye wanders through the scene is not necessarily the way in which the crucifixion unfolded. But I do believe God has given us an imagination that is absolutely necessary for Him to be able to help teach us the things we need to learn. This is just me on a fictitious walk based on my limited understanding of and incredible God.

I begin to walk up this hill. I know that I have a burden. I know where to take it. I feel like this will be an easy venture. After all Jesus says that I can take upon myself His burden which is easy and light and cast mine off. That sounds great. Besides I know this burden itself will consume me if I do not sluff it. So I venture up this hill. I know what is ahead. I know what crucifixion means. I know the cost of this climb to the foot of the cross. However, my expectations are all wrong. I expected to see sadness and mourning. Instead I see celebration. But not a celebration of Christ conquering death for our salvation. The celebration is coming from the bystanders. There is a crowd of people excited for the death of Jesus. The dirty executioners are beside themselves. They live for this. Not a single bone in their body holds and inkling of love. They have no heart. They cannot wait for this execution. The crowd: they are the ones who decided to bring Christ to his end in this way. They are anticipating this death as well. It's eerie. I look around for anyone who might be a fellow believer so I might not be alone in this malicious crowd. Yet I see no one. Those who believe or at least followed Jesus are way off in the distance. They are watching with worry and fear. Their teacher, healer, protector: He is dying on the cross.

I am all to aware at this point of the decision I made. The cross isn't surrounded by those who want to help. It is surrounded by those who are eager to attack. I feel alone to this world as I approach the foot of this cross. All eyes are on me. I feel like the crowd is ready to pounce at any time to destroy me as well. And the sight at the foot of the cross is not easy. The man of Jesus. The perfect man of Jesus is bare before me. Wounds are open, gaping, and dripping with blood. This was not my idea of taking my burden to the foot of the cross. I guess I thought I could just launch it with a cannon from a distance where the silhouette of the crucifixion was more like an ornament than a site of destruction. Or maybe I could just airmail my sin to Jesus. But like a boomerang it would have launched itself back to me. It's not until I come face to face with the difficulty to lay myself before the mercy of God. Until I can see the breadth of his love. Until I see the destruction of my life, and the need for that single death, I cannot be free from my burden.

And as tears stream down my cheeks all I want to do is take his place. I am the one who should be there not Him. I am the one deserving of death. But it is futile. Who am I that I think I might save myself. And so my burden is here with me. It's tied up in a canvas bag. To me it feels like the weight of the world dragging it around. I am again faced with a tough step. I have to hurl this bag of mine onto the shoulders of my Jesus. I have to add to load. I have to give one more thing to his pain. Bringing my burdens to the cross is not an easy thing any more. With hesitation I hurl the weight of my burden at the cross. At the person of Jesus. He looks down. I expect to see a new look of pain. A glance that says how could you. But instead I see eyes like love invite me into His death.

Dead to this world, alive in Christ. Being invited to His death is being heir to a resurrection in life. I ready myself to walk again in this world: my burdens gone. Life=easy. But something is different. I have been to the foot of the cross. I know what it is to venture in loneliness to find life. I know the difficulty and seriousness of that walk to see my Christ suffer for me. I know life. What is different--I have a debt to this world. I thought my journey was just for me, but what I realized is that the cross wasn't just to fix me: It was really a call to share the love of God. And now I serve this debt of love to the world around me.