Isn’t that an interesting phrase ~ the crux of the cross? It almost seems redundant, crux being the Latin word for cross, stake, or scaffold used in executions. The word is used today to refer to the essence or central issue of something, and it was used similarly in ancient times. We also use a form of it when we describe pain or painful situations as excruciating, or events and actions as crucial. I wonder if these forms of the word were used before the Cross of Christ. There were many crucifixions before His, but His was indeed central ~ the gist of… well, everything.
Several weeks ago, I was browsing through the library and bookstore of the church where Kayla takes piano lessons. Her teacher keeps his own grand piano there on the platform in the sanctuary, and gives lessons in the afternoons. Mr. Broyles and his gentle expertise is a highlight of Kayla’s week ~ maybe THE highlight. On this particular week, though, her lesson had to be on a smaller piano in the library and bookstore, because of some maintenance work being done in the sanctuary. This is why I had the opportunity to browse, as this room is typically locked.
On the spine of one of the books, I was surprised to find the name of her piano teacher ~ Stephen Broyles. Pulling it down from the top shelf, I gleaned that it was a book he’d written on loss and sorrow following the early death of his wife after a difficult battle with cancer. I learned that Mr. Broyles has a Bachelor of Music Degree, which is quite a bonus in a piano teacher, but I also discovered that he has a Master’s of Theology, which, in my opinion, could be a good or bad thing in this sometimes spiritually wacky place that I live. Sensing that, in this case, it might be a very good thing, I told Stephen that I had no idea he had written a book, or lost a wife, or anything else about him really, and then, after Kayla’s lesson was finished, marched off to the church office to purchase the book.
It was a Wednesday, and I was feeling stressed, overwhelmed, and tired by life. I made the decision to cook food for the mid-week potluck and Bible study at church, but to come home after dropping those things off and get a bit of downtime in the seldom silence that occurs at my house. After pouring a cup of tea, I climbed into bed and started reading. Some would say I am a glutton for punishment and melancholy, and maybe that is the case, but I actually prefer to read books about real life, real faith, and real trial. No Your Best Life Now here, but rather a tattered copy of Larry Crabb’s Shattered Dreams. I’ve learned enough about life in a fallen world by now to know that it is a battle, and I’d rather hear the raw truth, while being exhorted by example to continue the walk of faith.
I read more than half of Stephen’s book, The Wind That Destroys and Heals that night, putting it down only because I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer. The next day life began pressing in again, and the book sat on my nightstand for a week or two, but I was sure to pack it in my bag for our trip to Pennsylvania. I read the remainder of it along highway 84, the tears silently falling as I experienced Stephen’s loss, yet His deepening understanding of the God of Sorrow and Joy.
I read many of the final pages of the book to Robert, who was driving. I got choked up several times as I read the sentences aloud ~ each so beautifully profound. The following excerpt, I could hardly get through at all, and it is now circled boldly on page 72 of my book…
Here is the crux of the cross: Jesus trusted God even when God was silent and unseen. He hurled his sorrow and lament up to heaven and ended with the words, “Your will, not mine.” Then he rose and walked boldly to his execution and descended to the void. God did not take the cup away, and Jesus submitted to unspeakable terrors and death.
Precisely because God did nothing and Jesus placed his faith in him, the faith of Jesus summons forth our own faith in times of descent.
The question for us is not, Can we follow Christ like that? It is, Can we follow a Christ like him? It is unlikely that we will ever trust with the power and intensity of Jesus’ trust. It is enough that we pattern our faith on the faith of Jesus and in doing so become a part of the Very Story.
The Cross. It IS the central issue. It is a sacrifice beyond our comprehension, and yet Jesus asks us to receive and then live the sacrifice ~ to take up our cross and follow, and that this is where abundant and eternal life are found, even when God does not take the cup of sorrow away ~ or the cup of hard work ~ or handicap ~ or responsibility ~ or selfish longings. Stephen acknowledges that comparing our own sacrifices and sorrows to Christ’s may seem audacious, but that in His humility and grace, Christ allows us to identify and pattern our stories after His. “To follow him is to trace the outline of our obedience against his obedience ~ and that outline descends to a cross.” (p. 72)
“Every act of obedience is an act of worship,” is my favorite quote from my favorite book, Stepping Heavenward. I think it is a similar perspective. I set my face like flint to shop for groceries, to cook yet another meal, to tackle the laundry, to minister to another hurting person. For the joy set before me, I homeschool another year, open my home in hospitality, drive to and cheer at another baseball game, listen patiently to a child’s list of concerns…again. When the temptation comes to check out of life, to quit, to take the path of least resistance, I say “Get thee behind me,” and then I go and read gloomy books about sorrow in my bed. When I don’t get what a really want I say, “Alright. Okay. Your will be done.”
Yes, oftentimes begrudgingly, but because of grace, faithfully.
“The God who forsook Jesus on the cross is the very One who raised him from the dead and left for us that Sunday morning an empty tomb speaking hope in the eternal future of God.”
(p.72)
Audaciously, I compare my suffering to those of Christ’s. Brazenly, I expect to be raised from what I selfishly consider sorrows. But He went to the cross so that I could, and so that He could be with me all throughout.
So thankful for this grace at Eastertime. So thankful for non-wacky theologians and piano teachers all wrapped into one! So thankful for the Cross.
For the word of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.
1Corinthians 1:18
Christi crux est mea lux
The cross of Christ is my light.
P.S You REALLY should read the rest of the book yourself. I can guarantee a blessing in doing so!
Wow, how amazing that is so true. A God of sorrow and joy and I love that it isn't a sin to ask for the cup to be taken away. As long as we keep pressing into even when it isn't.
Happy Easter!
Thanks for writing this post, Melanie! So meaningful for me this Easter, this year.
Happy Easter to all of the Krumreys!
As usual, I love your posts and I pray that God will give you unspeakable joy as you face the days ahead and the tasks laid before you! The race you and Robert are running is such an inspiration and blessing to me and so many! Thank you for your perseverance! Never forget that you have a beautiful testimony! Much love to you! 🙂
Thanks so much, Christy, Anika, and Cory.
Anika ~ I highly recommend the book to you and yours! Hope your Easter was a wonderful reminder of His sovereignty AND His comforting love and grace.
This is a great post, Mel, and it sounds like a great book too. Resonates with me quite a bit right now. Thank you for sharing! Hope you had a great Easter!