The Broken Cross

When I was in high school a friend of mine who was a fellow Christian gave me a cross. It was green and made of glass. I loved it, the color was my favorite, the cross felt so nice in my hand.

I wore it every day and everywhere.

One day at the favorite local hang out spot (the arcade) I was playing a game called Dance Dance Revolution. After the game was over, I noticed my cross had fallen from my neck and shattered.

I was heartbroken, there was no fixing the cross. My friend later asked me where the cross was? I had to solemnly tell him the news. You could tell he was disappointed.

He got over it quick because quite frankly his life had one tragedy after the other. It was a hard and cruel life.

Years later he now openly mocks God and faith on Facebook.  

The broken cross he gave to me ended up being a metaphor for what was to come, his faith would be broken.

It grieves me to think about and sadly of all my friends from high school I can think of only two who are believers in Christ.

Even worse they’re not just unbelievers but many of them bash God and hate Jesus Christ.

It breaks my heart.

I often times feel hopeless for my high school friends. But then I remember there is hope.

Hope in Jesus Christ.

Because truly in high school, I was broken. That broken cross could serve as a metaphor for me. I was vile, deep in sin. Filled with hatred and pain. I was completely shattered and seemed to be unfixable.

But then Jesus truly saved me from myself.

I owe all to God.

All glory to God!

Praise His Name.

Have a Blessed and Hopeful Week,
Chris

Advertisement