Just Do It

I’m thinking a lot about the cross lately. The obvious reason is that we are entering Holy Week. One of my best friends built a 12-foot, 350 pound cross with his father that we hang from our church rafters each Lenten season. It’s ruggedly beautiful, inspires deep contemplation and is impossible to ignore. It reminds me that Jesus was murdered for standing against empire and asked us to do the same. We go into Holy Week knowing the ending of the story, that God raised Jesus showing the first fruits of our reconciliation and resurrection. It’s easy to forget that when Jesus asks us to take up our crosses, he meant we should raise love above a corrupt empire even all the way to death.

I think we see crosses in our lives so frequently that we fail to understand how complex and significant the symbol of the cross is. Of course we see crosses all the time in churches or worn on necklaces, but we also see them sprinkled all over on various signs, banners, and greeting cards. It almost seems like the cross has become a logo icon, similar to the Nike swoosh, but with religious identity in mind. Nike is famous for their tagline, “just do it.” The cross is a method of execution first and foremost. Imagine early Christians holding up an electric chair and saying, “just do it.” That seems close to what they had in mind when they repeated Jesus’s command to pick up our own crosses. But since none of us have ever experienced a real crucifixion, we are quite detached from this radical meaning.

Let’s not forget that the cross was a tool of brutal execution used by the Roman Empire. It should completely astound us that early Christians and Christians over the next 2,000 years adopted this symbol that was so associated with suffering, shame, and death, and transformed the cross into a symbol of redemption, hope, and salvation.

If you don’t believe in Jesus’s resurrection, there could be many cultural and historical factors that you credit this phenomena with. Other symbols have evolved, taken on new meaning, become less shocking overtime and even become integrated into a daily life. Another more recent symbol that might have echoes of the cross are broken chains and shackles. You see this in historical abolitionist cartoons, and you sometimes see it today as a metaphor for addiction and recovery. A broken chain reminds us of injustice, slavery, colonialism, and systematic oppression. It reminds us of unfair pain and suffering. But because the chain is broken, it reminds us of the possibility of freedom from injustice. But I don’t see a hangman’s noose, an electric chair, or broken chains becoming so strong a symbol as the cross. I and several of my friends decided to become completely sober over this last decade. It seemed a little punk rock at the time, never dull the blade and all, but sobriety has become a bit of a fad as well. Nonetheless, I don’t know any of us using broken chains as more than perhaps a metaphor. In my church, we often sing a couple of hymns that state my chains are gone, yet we don’t hang chains up on the walls. But the cross, which is a much more dangerous symbol than broken chains, became the symbol of our identity. I believe something actually happened on Easter morning that made Jesus’s early followers turn all of their beliefs upside down, including the real meaning of the cross.

The early Christians choice of the cross as their symbol should at least strike you as quite odd. It was only known as a symbol of execution, shame, and imperial rule. Jesus’ followers had just seen the cross used to execute their friend and leader. Imagine if your best friend was unjustly hung in the gallows. Would you suddenly start using a hangman’s noose as a symbol that conveyed your newfound meaning in life? Something dramatic happened that changed the way the disciples and other followers understood the significance of Jesus’s death. Their understanding was so profoundly transformed that they used a symbol of death to remind themselves that redemption and new life could be achieved, albeit through suffering. They believed so much in their resurrection faith, that the cross became a symbol of victory over sin and death. Instead of a reminder of imperial rule and death, the cross reminded them of the resurrection.

I was born and rooted — you might say firmly acculturated — into the GenX generation. Our generation is forgotten, ignored, even trampled upon by the generations on either side of us. It’s no wonder so many GenX kids adopted symbols of rebellion, punk rock, and grunge. So the cross also strikes me as a countercultural symbol for early Christians, who were deciding to turn their back on imperial society. It is an act of defiance, much like a punk rocker wearing the anarchy symbol. If society believes that crucifixion is a disgraceful punishment, and you are turning against society and imperial domination, the cross makes a bold statement of who you actually hail as king. Early Christians would have held up the cross as if to say, “hey Rome, you may think this is a symbol of your ultimate power, it’s actually a symbol of our ultimate power.”

So I can see how Christians today who are used to wearing the cross around their neck as a piece of jewelry can sometimes forget that it is a symbol of death and new life for believers. I believe infant baptism is an important and sacramental rite of initiation for our youngest family. But as someone who was dunked as a teenager, baptism was also a viscerally real symbol of lowering myself willingly to the grave. The cross is the passageway to the transformative power of new life, but don’t forget it necessarily involves death. 

I especially like the empty crosses of the Protestant faith that remind us the cross as an instrument of torture and execution is powerless over our true lives. Christ is not portrayed on these protestant crosses, the crosses are empty to remind us of Jesus’ resurrection. It is a unifying symbol for all Christians today, but in the beginning of Christianity, it was a symbol of their profound shift in how they viewed power, kingdom, death, and life. I believe the easiest way to understand this shift is that they believed Jesus was raised.

I don’t know exactly what it means to say Jesus was resurrected. I have directly experienced Jesus in my life. I believe he is alive and well and very real. My experiences remind me a little bit of Paul’s experiences on the road to Damascus. Is Jesus resurrected and present to us in a physical form, a spiritual form, through the Holy Spirit, through the sacraments, through each other in the body of Christ, through others we meet who are the other, the stranger, the least among society? Yes, all of the above. How does that work? Who knows? I can’t see any satisfactory material explanation for any of it, but my personal experience and the experience of billions of others attest to it, as does the early and frankly bizarre use of the cross as a symbol.

So think about a hangman’s noose or an electric chair the next time you see a cross hanging in your sanctuary. There’s something very shocking and concrete about the use of the cross as a symbol of hope and redemption, when the only thing it could possibly mean was imperial abuse and execution. It has to speak to the fact that early Christians, the very earliest who would have seen Jesus die on the cross, viewed his execution as a pivotal moment in the story of Israel. Their ability to reinterpret the cross, and the ability of others to allow this reinterpretation in their own lives and meaning, indicates a profound believe that Jesus’ death was not the end, but was the ultimate moment, the crisis point in all of history.

We are taught the resurrection as Christians as a foundational belief. Like wearing the cross, making the sign of the cross, and more, we take it for granted. Certainly, it is a powerful symbol of the resurrection. But when you make the sign of the cross, let’s say at the end of your next confession, will you understand that you are drawing a symbol of execution over your own heart? Will you understand that when you say you are marked by the cross, you might as well say you were marked by an electric chair? Let this shock and stun you. What could possibly have moved early Christians to turn this symbol into their own if not a powerful resurrection belief?

For early Christians who faced persecution and martyrdom for their faith, the willingness to embrace the cross as a symbol of their beliefs reflected a deep conviction in the resurrection. In a way, they were symbolically signing their own death warrants. Why not use the cross then as that symbol of faith? They believed Jesus proved victory over the cross, so they took his words seriously, and took up their own.

I love that the cross is a unifying symbol for all of us, fostering a sense of identity and community. Seeing a cross comforts me, reminds me who I am, makes me feel at home in the real kingdom. I love how deeply I can stare at the cross in our sanctuary and contemplate the meaning of Jesus’s life. I love that it reminds me of our shared belief in resurrection, helping me find meaning in struggle and suffering. It is identity, faith, promise, and transcendence in a simple symbol. I love that Christian art and liturgy incorporates the cross as a symbol of resurrection and hope. But as we move into Easter, I think it’s important to remember how strange and unusual, radical and dangerous this symbol was for early Christians. Let it shake you a little bit as you approach it in communion. Let it shake you when you make the sign of the cross to remind you that you are willingly signing your own death warrant because your loyalty is not to the empire, but to your Christ.

Take up your cross.

Just do it.