Brothers and sisters, let me paint you a picture. Imagine stepping into the humble carpenter’s shop in Nazareth. There stands Jesus, stripped to the waist, pausing from His work. He stretches His arms upward, perhaps to ease the muscles of His back after a long day of labor. The sunlight streams through the open door, and as His arms rise, so does His shadow—cast upon the wall behind Him in the unmistakable shape of a cross.
This is the image captured by Holman Hunt in his painting The Shadow of Death. It’s a work of art, yes, but it’s also a sermon in itself. For even in the simplicity of His earthly life, the cross was never far from Jesus. From His birth in Bethlehem to His boyhood in Nazareth, the shadow of the cross stretched ahead of Him. He lived every moment with the knowledge of what was to come. And He embraced it.
Now, I want you to imagine something else. Picture a visitor to one of the great cathedrals of the world—let’s say St. Paul’s in London. This visitor doesn’t know much about Christianity. He’s there out of curiosity, maybe even a hunger for something he can’t quite name. As he approaches the cathedral, his eyes are drawn upward to the great golden cross that crowns the dome. He steps inside, and everywhere he looks, he sees crosses: on the altars, in the stained glass, engraved on tombs in the crypt below. When the service begins, he hears the words of hymns that speak of the cross:
“We sing the praise of Him who died,
Of Him who died upon the cross…”
He watches as people come forward to receive Communion, and he hears the minister speak of the body and blood of Christ, broken and shed for them. He stays to witness a baptism, where the minister traces the sign of the cross on the child’s forehead, saying, “I sign you with the cross, to show that you must not be ashamed to confess the faith of Christ crucified.”
By the time he leaves, this visitor is puzzled but struck. Why, he wonders, do Christians make so much of the cross? Why do they sing about it, wear it, carve it into stone, and place it at the center of their worship? Why does this symbol of suffering, shame, and death hold such a place of honor in their faith?
Ah, friends, let me tell you why. Let me tell you why the cross is not just a symbol but the symbol of our faith. Every religion, every philosophy has its symbols. Buddhism has the lotus flower, symbolizing beauty rising out of chaos. Judaism has the Star of David, reminding us of God’s covenant. Islam has the crescent moon, a sign of sovereignty and renewal. But Christianity has the cross. Not the manger where Jesus was born, though that would have been fitting. Not the boat from which He taught, or the stone rolled away from the tomb, though these too are meaningful. No, we chose the cross—a symbol of shame and suffering, of agony and death. Why?
Because at the heart of our faith is this truth: Jesus Christ, the Son of God, came into the world not just to teach, not just to heal, not just to set an example, but to die. To die for you. To die for me. To die for the sin of the world. The cross is central because His death is central. Without it, there is no forgiveness, no salvation, no hope.
Let’s not forget what the cross meant to those who first saw it. Crucifixion was the most brutal, shameful punishment the Romans could devise. It was reserved for the lowest of the low—slaves, criminals, enemies of the state. To the Romans, it was a symbol of terror. To the Jews, it was a sign of God’s curse, for their Scriptures said, “Cursed is anyone who is hung on a tree.” And yet, it was on this instrument of torture and disgrace that Jesus chose to lay down His life.
Why? Because He knew it was the only way. From the time He was a boy, He understood His mission. When He said to His parents, “Didn’t you know I had to be in my Father’s house?” He wasn’t just talking about the temple. He was talking about His purpose, His calling. And as He grew, that calling became clearer. He began to teach His disciples that “the Son of Man must suffer many things and be rejected…and that He must be killed and after three days rise again.” He told them this not once, not twice, but over and over, because He wanted them to understand: His death was not an accident. It was not a tragedy. It was the plan.
And when the time came, He set His face toward Jerusalem. He walked ahead of His disciples, knowing full well what awaited Him there. Betrayal. Mockery. Beatings. A crown of thorns. Nails driven through His hands and feet. The weight of the world’s sin pressing down on Him as He hung there, abandoned by man and, for a moment, even by God. He knew it all, and still He went. Why? Because He loved us. Because He loved you.
This is why the cross is central. This is why Paul could write, “May I never boast except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ.” This is why Peter could say, “He Himself bore our sins in His body on the tree.” This is why John could declare, “The blood of Jesus purifies us from all sin.” And this is why we, two thousand years later, still sing:
“When I survey the wondrous cross,
On which the Prince of Glory died,
My richest gain I count but loss,
And pour contempt on all my pride.”
Friends, the cross is not just a relic of the past. It is not just a decoration or a piece of jewelry. It is the power of God for salvation. It is the place where justice and mercy meet. It is the proof of God’s love for you, a love that would rather bear the curse of sin than leave you in it.
So let us cling to the cross. Let us glory in it. Let us never forget what it cost our Savior and what it means for us. And let us live in its light, proclaiming to the world that Jesus Christ, crucified and risen, is Lord. Amen.
