We love Jesus’ words to the paralytic, “Take up your bed and walk”—those words are triumph and healing and, when put in the context of the whole event, they are also Jesus sticking it to the uptight religious people and setting them straight. Even now, reading this story for the umpteenth time in my life, I want to cheer and give high fives all around. I’m right there with the crowd, amazed and glorifying God.
But what about that other thing Jesus said to “take up”? Many of us wear them; I’m looking at three hanging on my wall right now. That other thing? That’s the cross.
And for some reason, hearing Jesus say, “Take up your cross” doesn’t make me want to cheer and give high fives all around. And not surprisingly, there’s no record of the crowd responding with amazement and glory to God when they heard these words.
But could it be—is it possible that “take up your cross” are also words of triumph and healing? My flesh says no—screams No!—remembering what Jesus said just before: “deny yourself.” But my spirit…my spirit, with the help of the Holy Spirit, says a resounding Yes!
My spirit knows what Jesus knows: self denial, taking up my cross—that’s the path to freedom. Deep down, each of us senses a fearful truth: when we continually say yes to ourselves, always giving in, always placating our wants and desires—that’s the path to bondage.
Jesus’ call to me, to you, to take up my cross, your cross, is spoken out of love because He knows it will lead me, lead you, to life. We know life is a process, not an event, but we tend to think of the cross as an event—the crucifixion—and not a process as well.
Jesus had taken up His cross long before He carried those wooden beams up Golgotha. He couldn’t have carried those beams if He hadn’t daily taken up His cross, denied Himself, and chosen the freedom that comes from living for God, living for others.
We like the idea of the glorious, impressive sacrifice, an event that we can point to and say, “Look at what I’ve done for you, Jesus!” And there may be a moment when some of us are called to such an event.
But Jesus said “take up your cross daily.” There goes the glorious sacrifice; we simply don’t have it in us to maintain that day after day. And He doesn’t call us to that. Those don’t often set us free anyway.
No, the daily taking up, that’s bearing with your coworker who can’t seem to stay quiet or your teen who can’t seem to talk. It’s holding your tongue when everything in you says, “this will put them in their place!” And you leave the conversation free from the pangs of conscience reminding you that those words were not only unnecessary, they were hurtful. That’s freedom, that’s healing, that’s triumph. And it only comes by taking up your cross, me taking up my cross, daily.
My desire for Lent is that the Spirit will show me how to follow Jesus in taking up my cross. And to help me with that, I will daily speak this piercing pray by Dominican priest Donagh O’Shea; I invite you to pray it as well:
Lord Jesus, you show us by your cross that love is stronger than death.
In the immensity of your suffering we see the immensity of love.
In the strength of your love for us may we take up the burden of the death of self.
Give us the grace to carry our cross patiently, silently, lovingly, and at last even heroically.