THE CROSS

‘Once in the end of the world hath He appeared to put away sin by the sacrifice of Himself.’

Hebrews 9:26

The greatest danger at the present day among Christians is their becoming so accustomed to the Gospel message that they cease to be keen or enthusiastic about it themselves, with the consequence that they totally fail to interest others in it. There was a good old phrase of another generation which exactly expresses their condition; they are Gospel-hardened.

I. The uniqueness of the Cross.—Notice the uniqueness of the lessons of the Cross, not merely the absolute uniqueness of the event, but its unique surprise. The glamour of the Cross—whether in our cathedrals or churches, or worn on our persons—makes us forget that it was a symbol of ignominy and shame. It was a unique surprise. People are apt to forget that, not merely the Jews practised sacrifice, but that no Roman general would think of going to battle without offering libations to the gods. A few years ago in Northumberland there was found a stone with an altar, an axe, a figure of an ox, and a bowl, and a date of some years before Christ. But within a hundred years Pliny complained to Trajan that no one bought anything for sacrifice. What was the reason? Calvary. The types of sacrifice had been put away by the offering of Christ once at the end of the old dispensation. That unique sacrifice once offered, never to be repeated, but still pleaded by the Church on earth, put an end to the looking forward to the future of which not only the Old Testament prophets but Plato had spoken—‘a good man sure to be killed’ were his words. And now we look backward to the Cross, the only looking forward being to the return of Him Who came to save. The Cross, too, was a unique opportunity for the salvation of the world. Our Lord came in the fulness of time when the world was prepared to receive Him, when the Greek language prepared the way for the missionary, and the Roman roads provided the means of transit. Is the Cross the most magnificent thing in the world to us, as it ought to be if we understand the right proportion of things? How does the death of Christ affect you? How does it touch your lives? Is it a reproach to you? It broke St. Paul’s heart. His self-sufficiency—shared, perhaps, by some in this congregation, who say that they are no worse than their neighbours, and that sin is only undeveloped good—gave way. ‘Thy rebuke hath broken my heart.’ Love is the only thing, not threats, which can secure obedience, as mothers know. Till we realise the meaning of the words, ‘He loved me and gave Himself for me,’ we have not learnt the lesson of the Cross. The easy-going optimism of to-day is refuted by the gaping wounds of the Cross.

II. The absolution of the Cross.—This has been the comfort of thousands in past generations. Lust, temper, and pride depart as on our knees we survey the Cross, but the absolution of the Cross must be preceded by confession, real and complete, before we can feel ourselves

Redeem’d, restored, forgiven,

Through Jesus’ precious blood.

III. The comfort of the Cross.—There are people in almost intolerable pain in sorrow-stricken cities who can only bear it in the power of the Cross. As God has waited and suffered, they feel that they can likewise. No rose-crowned Apollo can bring comfort to the sorrowing. That is only possible through the Cross.

—Bishop A. F. Winnington-Ingram.

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