Wearing my Cross

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Most days I wear it. It’s a simple gold cross, slightly curved on one side to help me know whether I’ve clasped it correctly.

A gift from my husband on a golden rope chain, it’s my cross.

Don’t remember when or where; but, not long ago I read an article by some well known theologian who questioned the habit of cross wearing.

He was curious about the wearers of crosses, big chunky gold or silver ones dangling like anchors around thick necks, fancy diamond faceted jeweled worn by fancy ladies, and delicate pendants presented to little girls.

He wondered if we all realized we were adorning ourselves with death’s symbolic charm.

It’s been months since I read this. I wear my necklace anyway, thinking “It’s important to me, I love it.”

This morning I read the story of the Samaritan Woman again.

Familiar with the narrative reminding me of Shakespeare’s young character marked with letter “A”, the imagery in the telling is one of the clearest.

A woman ashamed because she’s surrendered to the desires of multiple men finds herself caught off guard and meets Jesus.

She chose a time no one would be around to draw water from the well when the others had ventured into nearby city.

Jesus approached her and asked for water. Then he talked with her. Standing next to her, just the two of them, had a conversation about her life.

He told her about “living water” and about himself, The Messiah.

She left him, amazed that he knew her and still took time to have her know him.

She told everyone she could then, all of Samaria.

“Come, see a man who told me all that I ever did. Can this be the Christ?” John 4:29

Sometime later, she and those she told would hear of his horrific and sacrificial death on the cross.

 For her, for them, us, me.

I’d love to know if back then, the ladies of Samaria wore crosses. I doubt that they did. I believe the times and the garb were simple, more functional and not at all fancy.

If they did, I envision the woman who met Jesus at the well wearing a cross, discreetly tucked under thickness of layers, her hand reaching to find it and remember mercy.

Death too; but, mercy more.

 I think she’d remember the unexpected and life-changing encounter, the “no secrets here, you are loved and known” not so chance meeting.

I’ll reach for my bracelet, wedding rings and gold pendant with simple cross as I get ready for meetings today.

I’ll find my fingers touching the cross and I’ll be assured that mercy’s still there

And be thankful it found me at my worst.

I’m linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee to Tell His Story. Her beautiful image of a child’s feet blessed me today and prompted me to pray for Haiti.

Read it here: http://jenniferdukeslee.com/stand-haiti-one-way-make-big-difference-today/

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