A message on the death of Jesus.
Written by RAHAB’s former Drop-In Home Coordinator in Summit County, Kellie Farris
“Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit (John 12:24).”
I have never once considered the Cross and felt that I had any comprehensive understanding of it. The Cross of Jesus Christ is beyond me in passion, beauty, magnitude, scope, and power. The Cross is beyond me in every sense. When asked to speak a word on it, I find myself utterly inadequate. And that is as it should be. The Cross is too great—far too great in every aspect—for the human mind to capture it in its entirety. Nevertheless, it is the hinge of all eternity and of my own little life and of every life I encounter. The Apostle Paul said, “For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified (1 Corinthians 2:2).” I am arrested by his assertion every time, not because of his utter reliance on the Cross, but because he claimed to know it—and I am undone, because I want to “know Him, and the power of his resurrection, and the fellowship of His sufferings, being made conformable unto his death (Philippians 3:10).” I find that, because I am not enough to grasp the entirety of the Cross, I have come to know something of it in glimpses.
Over the years, I have seen the Cross and felt the Cross and heard the Cross, but not in its full expanse, or I would be crushed. Instead, I have experienced the Cross, glimpse by glimpse and piece by piece, like a mosaic. The call of the Gospel is to deny myself, and to take up my cross daily, and follow Jesus (Luke 9:23). And He has given this assurance: “whosoever will save his life shall lose it: and whosoever will lose his life for my sake shall find it (Matthew 16:25). The work of RAHAB Drop-In ministry is a sweet invitation into the “daily dying” work of the Gospel, and glimpse by glimpse, piece by piece, the Cross of Jesus takes shape and becomes evident before me every time I lay myself down—when I suspend my plans because the woman in front of me needs nothing more in this world than my undivided attention; when I lay down my time to offer a ride, warm and safe, to the Drop-In on a cold winter morning; when I surrender my space because a woman who has only know groping is longing for a loving touch; when I lay my one and only heart open wide to sit near another human in their brokenness and vulnerability; when I expose my own shame and insecurity to spread a blanket around a woman exposed and alone, and to take her hand with confident assurance that there is life on the other side of sorrow; when I allow myself to be pressed and cracked with the pain of another; when I deny self-protection and self-preservation to risk connecting with and loving another human; when I give my energy to bear up under burdens that are far too big for me and impossible for any woman to carry alone; and when I stop my moving and doing to lay my hand on a woman and pray, calling down peace and wholeness in shattered places (1 Corinthians 15:31). And all this laying down? Is it worth it? Again and again, I say, “Yes!” Because Jesus thought it was. He said, “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit (John 12:24).” And Jesus did not just say it: He lived and died it. It is worth it—it is oh so worth it! —because we who know Him wait in hope, giddy with anticipation. Resurrection is coming.