When I think about Easter, and about the cross, I have a lot of thoughts that pop into my head.
I wonder what was going though Mary’s head when she saw her oldest son dying on a cross.
I wonder about the soldiers. Did they feel like part of them was dying?
About a month ago, my honorary older sister, Ambitious made me think about something differently then I usually do.
“What does the Cross mean to me?” was the thought that she planted (Probably without knowing it. Ambitious, if you read this, you rock. Thank you so much!)
I guess I’ve never really thought about the cross. I mean, I’ve always known that dying on a cross would be one of the worst ways to die.
I’ve always know that when Jesus died on the cross, it was the most horrible way to die, and that it was a sacrifice.
I’ve always known that when Jesus died for me, that it was for me and for my sins. But I guess it’s never really sunk in this deep that it was Jesus-The King of Glory. Jesus- The Lord of all. Jesus-The one who can name the stars and who created this whole earth died. For me.
Me. Wow. Now that I'm thinking about it. This me. The me who never wears matching socks. The me who can never find anything in a reasonable amount of time and who is easily distracted by shiny things. (And boring things. And….I’m just really easily distracted by anything.)
He died for me?
That is crazy! That is the craziest thing I have ever heard!
No one normal does that. No one looks at me and says, “Wow. That Rachel Schaus. I love her so much I want to die for her sins, so she can live with me forever in my kingdom.”
That just doesn’t happen.
What happened at Calvary is crazy.
People have always thought that the cross was crazy. Back when Jesus died, the Jews thought that he was just another crazy revolutionary. The Jews tended to think “Oh. Our Messiah is gonna be a super cool warrior. He’s gonna wipe out the Romans and we are all gonna live with him forever!”
And the Gentiles (people like me who aren’t Jewish) thought the Jews were crazy and that they didn’t need a Messiah. They thought that they could just keep living the life’s that they were living and that what happened when you died was kind of like “Who cares? When you're dead you're dead. End of story!”
So… The cross has been crazy for 2000 years.
Trying to wrap your mind around the way that Christ died for us and our sins… is literally impossible.
To try to understand how much love that would have taken to let your only son die for someone... like me??
That’s….. pretty crazy.
It’s crazy to think that Christ died to take away my sins.
(Sorry. I know I’m saying the same thing over and over, but my mind is really blown right now. )
The cross means love. The cross means a great amount of love that was poured out for the sins of everyone on Earth.
The cross means freedom. Freedom to live separately from the bondage of sin.
The cross means so many things, so, for the month of March I’m going to talk about what the cross means to me, (I know its February. But I’m setting up for March. Because I’m smart and I think ahead sometimes.) Also, I have SATs coming up, so I have
taken the easy way out and written up the way I see the story of Jesus death as found in the book of Matthew. It might be interesting to read. (I hope so! I had fun writing it!)
“So if the Son makes you free, you will be truly free” (John 8:36)