The cross is where we stay

A while ago I came across an old postcard of Scarborough.  The image on the front was of some boarding houses in the town.  The writer had inked a cross (‘x’) against one of the boarding houses and written on the postcard, “The cross is where we stay.”  They meant, of course, that the cross marked the establishment where they were staying during their visit to Scarborough.  I have used the significance of the words “The cross is where we stay” in Holy Week services this year.

It may seem rather strange that a cross, a symbol of torture and execution, should be the universally recognised symbol of the Christian faith.  Yet it lies at the centre of our faith, for Jesus Christ, the Son of God, as St Paul writes, ‘walked the path of obedience all the way to death - his death on the cross’ (Philippians 2.8).  The hymnwriter explains, “We may not know, we cannot tell, what pains he had to bear; but we believe it was for us he hung and suffered there.”  By offering his life for us, Jesus opened the way to forgiveness and a restored relationship with God.

I have at home a cross which was made by a friend.  It is rather unusual in that it curves to one side.

  

It seems to me that this unusually shaped cross symbolises three things.  The first is that no-one is a reject in God’s eyes.  The wood of which the cross was made was about to be thrown away as being of no use.  My friend saw in the discarded pieces of wood something which could be taken, reshaped, and used to form the beautiful cross.  The story of the gospel reminds us that every single human being is precious in God’s eyes; no one is a reject.  God sees something beautiful in each person.

The second message of this cross comes because it leans to one side.  Two thieves were crucified along with Jesus, one on either side of him.  One of them cared nothing for Jesus, and hurled insults at him.  The other, however, recognised in Jesus a man who was totally innocent; he also recognised his own need of forgiveness.  He cried out, ‘Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom’ (Luke 23.42).  The leaning cross reminds us that Jesus responded to the penitent thief; he said, ‘Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise’ (Luke 23.43).  The moment we reach out to Jesus, he responds with love and forgiveness.

In our Good Friday service, I showed the cross to those who were gathered, and asked them what the cross said to them.  One person said that it reminded them of a cross which one might put at the end of a letter, symbolising love.  I must confess that I had not noticed that, but it is indeed a very powerful image.  The cross is the great symbol of God’s love for humankind.  In St Paul’s words, ‘God has shown us how much he loves us - it was while we were still sinners that Christ died for us!’ (Romans 5.8).

Though we move on to the celebration of Easter Day and the glorious hope of resurrection, we cannot forget the cross and all that it stands for.  In a sense, “The cross is where we stay”, for the cross stands above it all.

True Compassion

During Lent this year, one of my churches has been looking at The Beatitudes, the well-known words of Jesus at the beginning of what is known as ‘The sermon on the mount.’  Last Sunday we discussed the fifth beatitude, ‘Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy’ (Matthew 5.7).  This led us to think about the nature of mercy and other similar words, one of which is compassion.

Strangely enough, the word compassion came up again in a home group meeting the following day.  In the home group we have been studying Paul’s letter to the Colossians.  In chapter 3 of the letter, Paul uses the image of a change of clothing to illustrate how a person’s life should be changed when they commit themselves to Jesus Christ.  Get rid, he says, of the ‘clothes’ of the old life, and put on the new, Christlike, clothes: ‘Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience’ (Colossians 3.12).

The New Testament, of course, was written in Greek.  I did study New Testament Greek at college but was never very good at it!   Interestingly, there are several different Greek words used in the New Testament which can be translated as ‘compassion’.   The one used here by Paul, σπλάγχνον (pronounced splánchnon) is a particularly interesting Greek word, one which is used very infrequently in the New Testament.  It refers literally to the "inner organs" or "intestines, bowels" of the human body.  This not some mere surface feeling of sympathy, but it is a very deep, almost physical, expression of compassion which starts deep within a person.

Feeling compassion for someone is sometimes expressed in very vivid physical terms in the New Testament; even in English, expressions of mercy often make reference to the heart ("My heart goes out to them"), but sometimes also the guts ("That was a gut-wrenching tragedy").  It is easy to use the word compassion to mean a vague feeling of concern, but here is something much deeper and more powerful. As I pondered on this understanding of the kind of compassion which should be seen in the lives of those who follow Jesus, I was sharply reminded of an incident which occurred a few days earlier.

Giles Fraser is an Anglican priest, journalist and broadcaster.  Though there are a number of issues about which he and I would probably disagree, I nevertheless find him interesting to listen to; he is one of the people I follow on Twitter.  A few days ago, he mentioned on Twitter that an asylum-seeking family with two young children had arrived from El Salvador.  They found their way to Giles Fraser’s church.  Coming to understand their situation, Fraser tweeted, “Beyond angry that the Home Office can accept asylum request then turn family with small kids loose in London with no support. I’m buying hungry kids dinner at local Colombian restaurant. These poor people exhausted, hungry and scared. And no English. “

On the same day, he tweeted, “This poor family arrives at church today with nothing. Home Office processed their claim for asylum, told them to report back on Tuesday, then let them go into London with nothing, just to wait. Small kids hungry. I am beyond f*****g angry” (he didn't put in the asterisks).  He was rightly railing against a system that sends a young family with very little English onto the streets of London with no support, despite the fact that they had gone through all the proper channels.  They were given an emergency number to ring, but it turned out that the number is not answered over the weekend!

Here comes my confession, namely that when I read Fraser’s tweets, I initially found myself being more upset that he had used the ‘f’ word than about the story itself.  Even though I do hate the increasingly common use of the ‘f’ word, I know that if my heart had been full of the kind of gut-wrenching, heart-felt compassion of which Paul writes in his letter to the Colossians it would have been the asylum-seeking family which consumed my thoughts and emotions.  I need to make Graham Kendrick’s song my prayer:

Soften my heart, Lord
Soften my heart
From all indifference
Set me apart
To feel your compassion
To weep with your tears
Come soften my heart, O Lord
Soften my heart.

Graham Kendrick
Copyright © 1988 Make Way Music,
www.grahamkendrick.co.uk

PS The good news is that the Home Office eventually provided the family with accommodation in Glasgow.  Please pray for the family, that they would find the welcome and support they desperately need.