The Cross

I have a votive candler holder next to my kitchen sink. It's a large metal cross. When you light the candle the shadow of the cross falls long and dramatic across my white kitchen counters.

Earlier this week I happened to glance at it and what I saw stopped me short.

It no longer resembled a cross. You see, I had started hanging my cotton tea bags on it to dry them out. The candle had burnt out and instead of replacing it, I had started putting random clutter in the votive holder. The cross had become convenient.

The cross was never meant to be convenient.

The cross is the ultimate symbol of sacrifice and triumph and love.

I demean it by hanging tea bags on it. I demean it by hanging opinions on it and thinking that because I displayed them on the cross they are intrinsically christian. And when I take away my light, my witness, and fill my life with clutter and activities, I am misusing the cross of Christ.

And what will eventually happen is that as I continue to layer the cross with my "stuff" I will cover the shape of grace. It will all be about me and not about Him.

So I take off the damp tea bags and the ring that Rowan crocheted me and any other accumulatory junk. And I let the cross be what it is.

Striking.

It's the light of Hope in this dark world. May I never forget it.