Pride

"Far be it from me to glory except in the cross of Jesus Christ our Lord," Galatians 6:14.

What in the world means this?! We decorate worship halls with crosses, we hang crosses on doors, from the rear view mirror, on refrigerators. (Good luck charms?!) We emboss them on religious books. We wear them as necklaces, earrings, ring-rings. (Pretty proud of that cross, I am.) We make them out of gold, platinum, silver. Aluminum. Or, even really nicely worked wood. Stud them with diamonds, emeralds, rubies. And they come with, or without, a little man on them. Our choice. (Pretty proud of my cross, I am.) But nobody does the same with electric chairs. Or firing squads. Or execution syringes. Or guillotines. Or nooses. And why not? Who walks around pretty proud of the ungodly device used to torture/execute a friend?

Jesus despised the shame of the cross. We give thanks today with a brother or sister that Jesus endured its shame. Together we assert our pride rests in no big, lit cross at the top of the hill: No. Our glory rests in the little man nailed to it. Yes.