THE HIDDEN CROSS

We live in the country, down a lane, off a main road. We have a couple of outbuildings and the side of one faces the main road. About a year ago we built a cross out of scraps in our yard, strung some tiny lights on it and hung it on the side of that building. My husband strung this ever so long extension cord, yep, bright orange, from the garage, across a side building and then around to the cross. And there was light!

I love that cross. It’s a comfort cross for me – home, peace, hope. The way to and through the cross for Jesus was anything but comfort. In three seasons you can see this cross on the building from the main road. I hope passersby find it comforting, thought provoking, or at least notice it. Yesterday morning, while out walking one of the many four legged loves of my life, I noticed that the cross was nearly hidden by blooming trees and branches. The cross was barely visible. In fact, if you didn’t know it was there, you might miss it. It made me think…

Do I miss the Cross? Is the Cross hidden? Do I hide from the Cross? Has it been hidden for so long that I have forgotten it? Forgotten that my sin was on that cross? Forgotten that I’m the reason for the Cross? Forgotten that my sin was nailed to that cross? I do miss the Cross. At times, I do hide from the Cross.

While studying 1 Peter the other day, I stumbled onto Isaiah 49:16.

…yea, they may forget, yet will I not forget thee.

Behold, I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands;

thy walls are continually before me.

——-

…I would not forget you! See I have written your name on my hand.

Ever before me is a picture of Jerusalem’s walls in ruin.

Amen! That’s about all you can really say to that. What else can you say when the God of the universe has carved my name on the palm of His hand? He said “I will remember you.” My name engraved on His hand.   Firmly fixed – never to be forgotten. Even when I forget Him. Even when I hide from Him in my sin, He remembers me. Even me. He remembers me, sees my brokenness, sees me in disobedience, in ruin; yet still, my name is chiseled into His hand.

Seven hundred years later, we are told the same thing, at the Cross. Jesus remembered us at the Cross. With outstretched hands our names were etched with a nail onto His hands. Jesus will never forget us. He has the scars to remind Him. Remember, Thomas saw them. They are there. Those scars permanently affix my name on Christ’s hands. My name written with nails. I am pardoned by that writing.

Wow. Intense. The message is that sometimes the Cross is hidden from us. We either choose to hide from it, we choose to allow other things to get in the way, or we simply forget the Cross. God does not forget us. Jesus does not forget us. Lest we forget.