Where The Cross Was
This week’s newsletter piece is a meditation I wrote on Instagram recently.
Walking by the church a few days ago, my pup was drawn to a hole in the ground. While he was very curious about the scents, concern was forefront in my mind. I held the leash more tightly to ensure his paw didn’t slip in. I frowned with questions of where the hole came from, how many there were, and what would happened if someone tripped.
Worry is a sneaky ditch we slip in. We don’t see it coming and don’t know of its presence until it surrounds us. When I realized it was slowly robbing our morning walk of its joy, I took a deep breath, loosened my grip, and laughed.
(Random tip of the day: laughter really is the best medicine, especially for the sin of worry.)
It wasn’t until after the pup walked on to the next scent that the answer to one of my questions emerged from out of nowhere. Where did the hole come from?
It was where the cross had been.
Only a few days earlier, we had taken down the cross that had been standing there for nearly two months. I had already forgotten it had been there. What had stood as a reminder that worry has been defeated was so far from my mind that I replaced the cross with worry. Even when the cross disappears from our natural sight, let us keep it clear before us with our spiritual eyes. Let us not replace it with the cares of this world. Let us bury them where the cross stood—and where it stands.
all good things to each of you,