He was a carpenter. Shaping wood, cutting, building. Taking nothing and forming it into something. How ironic that years later, the same medium that he worked would be used as the instrument of his death.
Another, unknown carpenter, took two large wooden beams and fashioned them into a heinous cross.
A device of death and suffering.
A hanger to drape a savior.
A place mark in a ledger.
THE line item that would record a single once and for all, lump sum payment for humanity’s sin. Erasing forever the debt. Devine Destiny offered through salvation.
I am a metal worker. Self taught. Clumsy and common. I find myself shaping instruments of death. Small symbols to carry around the neck, close to the heart. I have one cross that serves a pattern for all the rest.
These crosses, they remind not to glorify death but to identify as a follower of the King. A King who modeled the path to exaltation. I Fall at the foot of the instrument. Crying out repentance to the bestower of everlasting life. Forsaking my desires… to make His Glory known. Following Him on a journey that starts with humiliation.
Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. – Hebrews 12:2
He leads me to a rough hewn beam and beckons.
Then he said to them all: “If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. Luke 9:23