At the Cross

Back in the campfire woods, there is an old, somewhat rugged white cross. As I walk through the trails, the farther I go from the neighborhood-the more engulfed I am by the surrounding nature-the closer I get to that cross. Its presence, clarity, and size grow with each step I take until I find myself at the feet of that cross.

The paint may be chipping and the wood full of dirt. I know its seen snow and wind and rain, as well as the bright, cheery sun. It’s heard the praises of hundreds of children, experienced countless campfires, and listened as facilitators and counselors poured out their hearts. It’s experienced the joys and pain and trials of the campers and staff over the years, and it stands firm as a symbol of our Lord Jesus Christ’s love and sacrifice for us.

Many days as I walk through the woods, the lyrics of the song Sweetly Broken by Jeremy Riddle play through my head. They are as follows:

“At the cross you beckoned me. You draw me gently to my knees, and I am lost for words-so lost in love. I’m sweetly broken, wholly surrendered.”

As we spend time with Jesus at the foot of His cross, He will begin to touch us and move in us profoundly. He will begin to heal our hearts and refresh our spirits.

What really hit me today, however, was what happened as I left the cross. I continued the loop around the campfire, and I periodically turned around to look at the cross. At first, it was still big-a prominent sight. Then it began to lose its size and lucidity. Soon enough, I couldn’t see it at all. The trees and the distance separated me from its view. I moved off the path-to the right and then to the left-but I saw nothing. It was out of view.

So it is in my life at times. I slowly move farther from the cross, frequently looking back to see if it’s still there-if Christ is still moving in my life and healing my heart. He’s still there, but I keep distancing myself. His overwhelming power fades and shrinks in my eyes, but it isn’t enough to stop me from walking. Eventually, I’m to the point that I can’t see it or feel it at all. But I have so much to do, and the busyness, the people; the buildings are calling me to get out of the woods. I’ve spent enough of my time away from the world.

That’s what I tell myself at least. But why do I move from the cross, from the only One who has the power to save me? What does the world have to offer that is worth anything? All I have to do to fix this is turn around. Stop the running and the hiding. Turn around, Danielle. Turn around! Run with all you have back to the One who heals and saves.

Spend some more time at that cross, and let yourself be filled by the One who knows you best and died to save you.   James 4:8 says, “Come near to God, and He will come near to you.” Take the time today to come near to God. I promise it will be worth the effort.

Father,

 May we the time each day to stand at the foot of Your cross. May Your love and the sacrifice You made hit us in a profound way. May we realize at the core of who we are just how much You love us and how much that means. May we be brought to our knees, lost in love and wholly surrendered to Your will, our Lord. Give us strength and a desire to keep running back to You, our Father. Draw us near to You, and allow us to be healed and filled by Your love.