The Wonderous Cross

Today is Good Friday. As I meditate on the crucifixion of our Lord and Saviour, there is no other way to come to Him except with humility. Who am i that the Son of God would leave the glories of heaven, to come to this wretched sin-stricken world, to be despised and rejected, mocked and ridiculed, to be sinless yet become sin and take on Himself the sin of fallen men like me, to take on Himself the wrath of God, the punishment due my sin, all that I might live?

I must say with the hymn writer, that when I survey the wondrous cross I must pour contempt on all my pride.

In this age of emerging churches and emerging theology, of seeker-sensitivity and man-centered worship -- I WILL cling to the old rugged cross, I will wash my filthy rags in the soul-cleansing blood of the Lamb that died upon that cross. I must cherish the old rugged cross, for apart from it I am a sinner bound for hell and separation from God, instead of a sinner bound for heaven and fellowship with God.

Thank you, dear Jesus, for going to the cross. Thank you for bearing my sins and my shame and for dying my death. Thank you for loving me, Jesus. May this life that you have saved bring you praise, glory and honor. Amen.