The following post is adapted from a talk I gave in Sacrament Meeting yesterday, in the Mount Vernon, Virginia Stake.
Then Jesus told his disciples, “If any wish to come after me, let them deny themselves and take up their cross daily, and follow me.”
Luke 9:23
The Bishop asked me last month to speak on this verse, remarking that he personally wasn’t sure what “take up your cross” even meant. Did I know what that phrase meant? I had an inkling, but I wasn’t sure. Curious, over the last few weeks I read a few dozen “take up your cross” sermons from apostles, pastors, priests, and seminarians across Christendom.
Cross = sin. Some of those sermons, including from our dear Apostle Marvin J. Ashton, said the “cross” symbolizes our sins. Taking up our cross is a step towards repentance. By first acknowledging the weight of our sins, we are able to turn them over to Christ. Our cross becomes his cross. Christ carries our crosses when through his suffering on his cross he forgives all sin. Taking up our cross daily then because the daily act of repentance — when we “take up our cross,” we forsake sin by, in the words of Elder Neal A. Maxell, “daily denying ourselves the lusts and appetites of the flesh.” “For a man to take up his cross, is to deny himself all ungodliness, and every worldly lust, and keep my commandments.” Joseph Smith Translation, Matthew 16:26.
Cross = burden. Sin was one interpretation. But the overwhelming majority of all Christian homilies and blog-sermons I read interpret our cross to symbolize our burdens. “Our cross to bear” is the great challenges of our life, the weighty sacrifices we must make for God, the trials we must patiently suffer through in order to be purified. We must die in Christ even as died for us, accepting the heavy darkness as we, as martyrs, drag our crosses alongside Christ on the rocky path to Calvary.
Cross = death. Some other interpretations try to get close-to-literal with “take up your cross.” A cross in first century Jerusalem was a literal instrument of torture and death. That inseparable Christian association with Christ’s suffering and death is one reason why President Gordon B. Hinckley urged Latter-day Saints to not use the cross as a symbol of our faith — we are to focus on life, instead. Still, strains of this permeate our theology. Take Joseph Smith in Liberty Jail: “If the very jaws of hell shall gape open the mouth wide after thee, know thou, my son, that all these things shall give thee experience, and shall be for thy good. The Son of Man hath descended below them all. Art thou greater than he?” (D&C 122:7-8). In these most literal readings, taking up your cross is accepting that you will suffer as Christ suffered, that you will die as Christ died. But nevertheless, in the end, if you endure it well, you will find eternal life.
How bleak.
I don’t know about you, but I don’t like bleak. Is there another interpretive option? Something a bit more positive, in taking up your cross?
Cross = Light? The Christ I know isn’t bleak. The Light of the World doesn’t redeem us by consigning us to darkness, misery, and endless woe. Yes, as humans we suffer in a fallen world, but that’s the problem Christ fixes. “Adam fell that men might be; and men are, that they might have joy. The Messiah comes [to] redeem [God’s] children from the fall!” (2 Nephi 25-26)
What did the Savior say just five chapters before he commanded disciples to take up their cross? “Come unto me, all ye who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you … and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” (Matthew 11:28-30)
Yokes and crosses seem fairly synonymous, here. Enormously heavy wooden burdens better suited to being born by pack animals than by humans? And yet, Christ in his infinite, table-turning, parabolic wisdom – he is encouraging us to take on these metaphorical yokes and crosses? If a “yoke” is easy and light, maybe our “cross” is too? Maybe the cross is not supposed to be the world’s-most-obvious metonymy for pain?
Especially not when the next verse in all of the synoptic gospels cues the reader to consider the opposite: “For whosoever will save their life will lose it, and whosoever will lose their life for my sake will find it.” (Matthew 16:24-25).
That seems like a clue that something opposite is going on. Especially when coupled with the fact that we know what the cross meant to Christ.
“Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.” (John 15:13).
“For this is my work and my glory—to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man.” (Moses 1:39).
Cross = Calling. To Christ, the cross was the symbol of his love. Taking up his cross was Christ fulfilling his divine calling, to redeem all of humanity. So when Christ asks us to take up our cross? He’s not asking us to gracefully endure more pain – he’s asking us to love and serve and lift the pain of others.
The only sermon I found making this point was a beautiful one from Pope John Paul II. In a Valentine’s Day address from 2001, the Pope urged the youth to devote their lives to Christian service. “It is not suffering a Christian seeks, but love. When the cross is embraced it becomes a sign of love and of total self-giving.”
That message of being called to service is consistent with modern revelation: “Arise and gird up your loins, take up your cross, follow me, and feed my sheep.” (D&C 112:14; see also Elder Soares). This is Christ’s great commandment. That “as I have loved you, that ye also love one another.” (John 13:34). Or in the words of the primary hymn I sing to my baby every night when I rock him to sleep: “I’m trying to be like Jesus … I’m learning to serve my friends.”
Our individual crosses and callings.
In my walk of trying to be like Jesus, I often get frustrated I can’t do more. I can’t save the world. I don’t have the time or money or resources to help everyone, even just among my friend circle, I’m personally aware of who needs help. The world’s needs are infinite and I am finite.
We use “callings” within the culture of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints to refer to temporary, volunteer assignments where we minister to each other. Those are important. But I believe each of us has a deeper spiritual “calling” as well, something closer to what my Catholic friends might call a “vocation.” A unique set of personality traits, life experiences, and talents that we can each consecrate God in order to love and serve others. In my own cross or calling, I’ve been learning I have to trust God to prioritize for me. God knows my strengths and weaknesses, and has already taken account of what my finite resources are.
As I look back over the last decade, my “calling” becomes clear.As a little backstory, a decade ago I was in a bad marriage careening towards divorce. One of the fall-outs from that era of my life is I don’t feel the spirit through temple ordinances. I won’t dwell on that point, although I’m happy to discuss it elsewhere. It matters, though, because one day during that era, I went to the temple one day to explain to God exactly why it wasn’t working for me. In the course of praying, I said – look, it’s not that I don’t want a relationship or a covenant with you. These ordinances may not work for me, but here is what I can promise. I can promise to use my outspoken, enthusiastic, and confident personality to help others. I’ve been through a divorce, and its opened my eyes to a world of hidden pain in my Church pews. I can’t promises everything but I can promise to use the finite time and talents I possess to be a voice for a voiceless and to a resources to those who can’t help themselves.
In that moment, I had a distinct impression of I accept. That’s enough. That was my new personal covenant with God – to take the baptismal covenants of Mosiah to mourn with those that mourn, and apply them specifically to help those experiencing divorce.
In the years since, Christ has been fairly obvious at tossing me into the path of women and men who most need my help. I can’t help everyone, but I can help one or two people a year, and I have to trust God to prioritize who those people are. After several years of helping a few people at a time, it’s added up. It’s now to the point that my husband teases me for my little cottage industry of helping friends leave abusive marriages and file for divorce. But the Spirit compels me to – time and again, when I learn of a friend in desperate circumstances, the message is overwhelming: I sent my child to you. Because you can help.
It’s not enough. It will never be enough. But for now, this is my daily cross of love and service. My calling to lift the burdens of a few. And maybe if all of us, if we as a whole army of Christian soldiers, if we all took up our crosses and followed Christ, it would be enough. Multiplication is a powerful tool. If every Christian tried to pursue their calling and use their unique skills to help just one or two other souls each year, across a lifetime that’s a hundred. With all Christians everywhere it’s enough to reach all six billion people in the world. Together as we take up our crosses of love daily, maybe we could heal the world.
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August 28, 2023 at 03:10PM
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Take up your cross daily - By Common Consent
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