The Cross.

The way in which we find ourselves burdened seems to vary, as does the grace with which we carry it. But the real beauty in it all, is the way it is removed.

Sometimes a burden or trouble seems to fall upon our laps, unexpected and all at once. Other burdens start small, building over time. We don’t even notice the additional weight until it is so heavy, our body is struggling to press on.

Ahh, and our gracefulness. Perhaps it isn’t so much that we don’t have the ability to be burdened gracefully,  but that we have not paused to collect ourselves,  to adjust to the weight, and to acknowledge the task that comes with that burden.
The task of standing upright,  though painful. Of taking the road less traveled,  though lonely. The task of accepting a task that no one else will,  though seemingly unrewarding.

Then… relief.

The Relief is quiet, refreshing, strong. We feel grateful, and we feel lighter. Freed from a burden we carried through life with difficulty.

But look around. Where are we? There stands before us a majestic wooden cross. The burden of all burdens-the weight of the world- was suffered on this cross. The grace with which these were carried was unmistakably perfect, the dignity intact unto the very end, the last task asked.

Why, we may ask?  Because of love. A love that extends far beyond death and far deeper than pain can reach.

He could have left at any time, abandoned us to our filth. But He didn’t. And so can we groan and cry of our troubles, leaving them to be carried by another. But we won’t.

For when we accept our burdens-our own personal cross; when we carry them with grace, when we stand tall in spite of adversity… that is when we find ourselves close to Christ.

It all begins with a choice.