My Broken Cross (by D.A. Cobb)

Some time ago, and as a token of her love and compassion for this sinner, a friend presented me with a few hand-made wooden crosses.  For years I carried them with me as a superstition believing they would protect me from harm and from risk. I kept them in my office, on my person, at home and in my luggage. I believed I needed them nearby for protection without any thought to the real meaning and purpose of their Biblical truth.

Since my acceptance the Cross has brought new significance into my life and is no longer a symbol of self-interest but rather a signal for hope. It now represents my pathway to Him and to His Eternal promise. The cross is pure and without sin and is His inspiration for the testimony of everlasting life.

One evening while emptying my pockets I found one broken and in need of repair. I placed it carefully on my dresser to revisit at a later time. Today while dusting it fell to the floor, came to rest under the bed, completely out of sight.

As I began to retrieve this missing bond with my Savior unbearable thoughts of separation engulfed my soul. What if there was no cross or crucifixion. Any hope for salvation would be lost as would the promise of Eternity with Him. What an anxious feeling of loneliness as I imagined the eternal life engulfed in darkness and fear rather than one filled with brightness and love.

He gives us moments like these as a reminder of His closeness and presence. The experience is obvious and the purpose unmistakable and only through faith are we aware of these encounters with Him.

The cross remains under the bed as a renewal of its message.

1 Corinthians 1:18   

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