"This lighted cross...so important a symbol for Christians in this valley."
Good Friday evening I stood along with two other men at a small electrical switch box on a hillside high above this church. At exactly 6:00 o'clock, one man threw the switch to relight the thirty-foot community cross which has stood as a Christian beacon above this valley for four years but was recently darkened for lack of funds. When the switch was thrown, the other man read a single verse from the 18th Psalm:
"You, O Lord, are my lamp.
My God, you make my darkness bright."
We couldn't see the now-lighted cross from where we stood at the switch box area (about halfway to the cross), so we drove back down the hill. As we rounded a bend, I looked back and said to Cal, "Now you can see it." He stopped the truck and looked up the hillside to see again the fruit of his hard work. "Isn't it beautiful?" he said with a voice choked with emotion. "You know, Brad, it's worth all the struggle--first lighting that cross four years ago and now trying to get the funds to keep it lighted each night. My doctor says I should be home resting, but I can't until I know this cross will shine every night and make our darkness bright." We stood there for a few moments more and then drove home in silence.
The next morning (Holy Saturday) I got up early and hiked up to the cross itself. As I approached it, hot and tired, my immediate reaction was to check out the stability of its base and make sure all the light bulbs were okay. But then as I stepped back to take a picture of it, I was suddenly aware of what a powerful Christian symbol the cross really is and, as I sat there, two Easter thoughts came to me.
First, the cross was empty. Like the tomb which three brave women entered that first Easter Day, Jesus was not there. "He is risen," the angel told them, "and he awaits you outside." And I realized that is why this lighted cross is so important a symbol for Christians in this valley. It is lighted as a beacon for all to see and to remind us daily that this cross is empty--Jesus is not here. He is risen. Go out into the world and you will find Him there waiting for you.
"You, O Lord, are my lamp.
My God, you make my darkness bright."
The second image that came up for me was a sudden awareness that the arms of God stretched out in love before this whole valley. And, as I sat there feeling enfolded by those arms, I remembered this story, a news release from Scotland, which told of a mother's dramatic rescue of her child. Workmen had been blasting rock in a quarry and one day after they had attached a fuse and retired to a safe place, having given the alarm, they saw a three-year-old child wandering across the open space where danger threatened. Every passing second meant that death was closing in on him.
The workmen called to the child and waved their arms, but he only looked on their antics with amusement. No man dared run forward, knowing the explosion was only a few seconds away. The child most certainly would have been killed, had not his mother appeared at this moment of crisis. Taking in the situation at a glance, she did what her mother's heart dictated. She did not run toward her son or yell to frighten him. Instead, she knelt down, opened wide her arms and smiled for him to come. Instantly the child ran towards her; when the air shook with the gigantic explosion, he was safe in his mother's arms.
What a picture of God's grace. With outstretched arms, the cross of Christ is his gracious invitation to come to His eternal safety. When you leave church this beautiful Easter morning, or some evening this week, look up into the hills above us and, as you see the cross one more time, remember these words:
"You, O Lord, are my lamp.
My God, you make my darkness bright."
And remember also this Easter fact: He is not there on the cross. He is risen and is here waiting for you.
Alleluia, He is Risen.
Amen.
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