The Cross and the Resurrection

Crucifixion is a horrible thing. Why, then, does the New Testament seem so strangely fascinated by the cross? Why does it keep appearing on page after page? Why do people sing, to this day, in a startlingly illogical fashion, "In the cross of Christ I glory"?

It must be stressed immediately that the story of the cross, by itself, is no "success story." It is a story of defeat. The New Testament writers look at the darkness of the Cross from the light cast upon it by the resurrection. They believe in a risen Lord; and it is for this reason that they are able to look with steady eyes at the moment when that risen Lord seems to be defeated, and find his triumph even there. We have looked at the significance of resurrection faith (in Chapter 7). Let us now look at the light that faith shed upon the cross, disentangling four strands of a total answer. No one of these is a complete answer in itself, but each strand is important.

Suppose you were one of the early Christians. Things were tough, no doubt about it. When you became a Christian, you lost your property. Your father was arrested. You knew that if you were caught, it might be the lions or worse. Whatever happened, being a Christian involved suffering. How did you bear up under this?

Well, for one thing, you remembered that you were being called upon to undergo nothing that Jesus himself had not undergone. He had set an example for you of the way to bear suffering creatively. You could remember him upon the cross and gain strength to bear your own cross. One of the letters you heard read in church might remind you of this: "Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example, that you should follow in his steps" ( I Peter 2: 20, 21). And you could remember the words of Jesus himself, telling you that to follow him wouldn't be easy: "If any man would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me" ( Mark 8: 34).

Or, the cross might be an example to you of the extent to which you were called upon to love. You might think to yourself: "Here is an example of God's love. He has come to me and all men and loved us even when we put him to death. This is what it costs him to love us. We must try to be worthy of such love by loving each other just as much." And then you might surprise yourself (and everyone else) by sharing a meal with that hateful Aquila, or going to jail to shield Publius from the Roman soldiers.

Suppose you are one of the twentieth century Christians. If you live behind the Iron Curtain, or in occupied territory, or in fear of a firing squad, the parallels are obvious. But there are "crosses" in life no matter where it is lived, kinds of suffering that touch life everywhere, difficult decisions that have to be made, no matter how little you want to make them. And the cross remains an example, now as much as then, saying: "Christ himself has gone through pain and anguish. See if you can bear it as he did."

And, even more significantly, the cross remains an example to you of God's love for men, a love that you, even in the twentieth century, must imitate. As you think about it, you realize that this is the stuff of which modern saints are mademen who give themselves unstintingly to those in need, just as Jesus did by his unparalleled love. You recall Saint Francis in the thirteenth century, giving himself to the leper no one else would even go near; John Woolman, in the seventeenth century, appealing to hardhearted slave owners to free their slaves; Toyohiko Kagawa in the twentieth century, working for years in the slums of Japan. For such men as these, and for a host of others, the cross has been an example of the extent of God's love, and they have sought to be worthy of that love by loving in return. And you realize, possibly with some dismay, that the same thing is asked of you.

But there is a catch. It is not necessarily true that the cross will inspire us by its example. We may not "love the highest when we see it." We may hate it. The "good" men in Jesus' time certainly did; they hated the highest so much that they put him to death. And for every soldier at the crucifixion who said, "Truly this was a son of God!" ( Matt. 27: 54), there were a dozen who were interested only in winning the Son of God's castoff clothing by a lucky throw of the dice. The example of love, even the highest love, does not necessarily produce a response of love. It may produce scorn and repudiation. We can refuse to love. We can say: "I am not impressed. That's not for me." So to speak of the cross as example is to speak of a part of the New Testament faith but not the whole of it. We must go deeper.

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