My Cross of Failure

We had such a a beautiful worship gathering for Palm Sunday yesterday. Of course we had palm branches to wave as we sang, but what was really poignant was what we did after the sermon. We were given bamboo crosses, about a foot long. They were tied together with twine, crude and yet lovely in its simplicity. At the front of a church was a wooden cross, covered in chicken wire. The whole church was asked to stand and then make their way to the front of the church, where they stuck their cross into the chicken wire covering the big cross.

What was a simple cross wrapped in chicken wire became a cross of thorns. The small cross in our hands was a symbol of our failed attempt at life. We never measure up. We miss the mark continually.

But the good news is we can take our cross to Jesus. Because He died for our sins, he took all our failures, all our mistakes, all our crosses, on the cross with him. They were nailed on the cross with Him. They are gone, now and forever.

My cross held countless failures. Whether is was failure as a wife or a mother, or failure to do the good I knew to do, I placed those failures on that crude cross in my hands. Those failures were taken to the cross of Jesus, and placed  upon it. They are gone. Now and forever.

What do you need to place on the cross of Christ?