The Cross

Several months ago while I was in the barn, the title of a book caught my attention. For those of you who are unaware, while most people keep animals or old cars in their barns, our barn would more appropriately be called a library. We don't go to the public library very often because it is generally safe to assume we have a book if it isn't new.

Anyway, the title that caught my attention was Glenda's Story. I forget the subtitle. The book was a thin, white volume and though I had other things I was intending to do, I picked it up and read the whole book. Looking it up, I find that the subtitle is Led by Grace.

Her story is sad. Her parents didn't want her and abused her, she had no friends, and she went through anorexia and depression. Yet when she grew up and was led to Christ by a tract, she was able to completely forgive and move on. She even kept contact with her parents and tried to lead them to Christ. It was challenging to me because so often we excuse our bad responses by what others have done to us-yet for many of us, we've gone through nothing even close to any one of those things. So we struggle to forgive a sibling who annoys us, while people like Glenda freely forgive those who have inflicted mental hurt that we cannot imagine. I find myself thanking God that He has spared me from such things because I wonder if I could forgive them.

When I finished the book, I sat in the barn and thought, and then I wrote a poem. It's probably my favorite of all the poems I have written.

The Cross

I look at the cross;
I've seen it before;
It seems to be nothing new.
Sure, Christ has suffered,
But so have others,
Some, it seems, in a worse way too.
Father, forgive me! As I look at the cross,
I do not see Your pain.
I do not realize all You have suffered,
All for sinners' gain.
All for those who despise Your gift,
For those who just scorn Your loss,
Who scarcely take an upward glance
When they pass once more Your Cross.

I feel betrayed;
I feel I suffer,
Wond'ring why God doesn't care.
I am a Christian,
I'm following Him,
So why does it seem He's not there?
Father, forgive me! As I pass by the cross,
Too wrapped in my own pain,
To look up and realize all You have suffered,
And this, all for my gain.
Too wrapped up in my own hurt
To count it all as loss,
Too busy playing a martyr's role
To take up my own cross.

Help me see the cross
Like never before;
Help me to see it anew,
Make me to realize
In powerful ways,
All that You went through.
Father, impress me! As I look at Your cross,
Help me despise my pain,
As I realize all You have suffered,
All for sinners' gain.
Fill my heart with love consuming
Willing to bear all loss,
Scarcely to notice the passing pain,
As I gaze at the cross.

~ Jeannette Beerbower