Lift High the Cross: Our Salvation and Our Call

Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be always acceptable to thee, O Lord, my rock and my redeemer, and Lord, give us eyes to see and ears to hear the Sacred Voice that still speaks to us through your written word and our ancient faith, and we offer you all the praise, honor, and Glory for it in Jesus’ Holy name. Amen.

Good morning, my fellow encouragers! As we gather today, our hearts may be heavy. This past week has brought us face to face with the brokenness of our world: the shocking murder of Iryna Zarutska in Charlotte, the assassination of Charlie Kirk in Utah, yet another school shooting that has left families devastated, and the 24th anniversary of the September 11th attacks – a day that forever changed our nation and continues to affect many.

As we come together on this feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, we might wonder: What comfort can we find in the wake of such violence and loss? What hope can sustain us when the darkness seems so pervasive? Where is God in the face of such suffering?

The Collect for the Exaltation of the Holy Cross speaks to our present moment with particular power: “Almighty God, whose Son our Savior Jesus Christ was lifted high upon the cross that he might draw the whole world unto himself: Mercifully grant that we, who glory in the mystery of our redemption, may have grace to take up our cross and follow him.”

In these words, we find both comfort and challenge. First, we recognize the assurance that Christ draws all people to Himself through the Cross, and secondly, we hear the call to follow Him in the way of self-giving love.

Our Sermon hymn was “Lift High the Cross.” In it, we are reminded that in our darkest hours, we look to Christ crucified, the fullest revelation of God’s love for a broken world…not to human wisdom or strength.

Our Old Testament lesson today from the Book of Numbers, chapter 21, verses 4-9, speaks powerfully to our current moment. The Israelites find themselves in a wilderness of discouragement and fear – not unlike the wilderness many of us feel we are traversing today. The news cycle brings us one poisonous bite after another. Violence, division, hatred – these are the serpents that strike at our collective soul, injecting venom of despair and cynicism.

When I heard about the assassination of Charlie Kirk, I felt that poisonous bite of fear – the sense that we are living in increasingly dangerous times where disagreement can lead to deadly violence. When I read about Iryna Zarutska, a young immigrant from Ukraine, murdered while simply going about her day, I felt the sting of senseless tragedy.

But notice what God provides in this passage. It’s not an immediate removal of the serpents, but a means of healing from their bite. Moses lifts up the bronze serpent, and those who look upon it are saved. When raised up, the image of what caused their suffering becomes the source of their salvation.

Our Lord Jesus draws the connection explicitly in John 3:14-15: “And as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of man be lifted up: That whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have eternal life.”

When we are bitten by the serpents of tragedy, violence, and hatred, where do we look for healing? We look to Christ lifted high upon the Cross. The very place where suffering and evil did their worst, yet could not overcome divine love. The Cross does not deny the reality of our pain; it transforms it.

Let’s read Philippians 2:5-11. You can find it on page 699, about halfway down the right-hand column, should you wish to follow along.

St. Paul writes, “Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus: Who, being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God: But made himself of no reputation, and took upon him the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of men: And being found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself, and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross. Wherefore God also hath highly exalted him, and given him a name which is above every name: That at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of things in heaven, and things in earth, and things under the earth; And that every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.”

What strikes me here, especially in retrospect of this week’s events, is the stark contrast between the way of Christ and the way of the world. The world in which we live often operates by the logic of power, domination, and violence…a logic that says, “Through violence, I will achieve my ends.”

But Christ Jesus shows us another way, the way of self-giving love. “He humbled himself, and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross.” The Son of God did not cling to divine privilege but emptied Himself, taking the form of a servant. He didn’t meet violence with greater violence, but with sacrificial love.

It’s a mystery that’s at the heart of our faith. The apparent defeat of Christ Crucified becomes His greatest victory. “Wherefore God also hath highly exalted him,” says St. Paul. The Cross, an instrument of shame and torture, becomes the throne from which Christ reigns. Death, the enemy’s ultimate weapon, becomes the doorway to eternal life.

For those among us today who are carrying heavy burdens of grief, fear, or anxiety, the Cross offers us presence. The God who knows suffering from the inside, who has tasted the bitterness of death, is with us in our pain. And the pattern of the Cross – descent followed by ascent and death followed by resurrection – becomes the pattern of hope for all who trust in Him.

Lastly, let’s read from St. John 12:31-36. It can be found at the top of page 639.

Jesus says, “Now is the judgment of this world: now shall the prince of this world be cast out. And I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all men unto me. This he said, signifying what death he should die. The people answered him, We have heard out of the law that Christ abideth for ever: and how sayest thou, The Son of man must be lifted up? who is this Son of man? Then Jesus said unto them, Yet a little while is the light with you. Walk while ye have the light, lest darkness come upon you: for he that walketh in darkness knoweth not whither he goeth. While ye have light, believe in the light, that ye may be the children of light.”

In the face of this week’s darkness, these words of our Lord offer particular comfort: “I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all men unto me.” The Cross exerts a spiritual gravity, drawing humanity toward divine love. Even as we witness acts that seem to pull our world toward hatred and chaos, the Cross is drawing us toward healing and reconciliation.

I’m reminded of how, in the aftermath of 9/11, people were drawn together in unprecedented ways – strangers helping strangers, communities rallying around first responders, churches opening their doors for prayer and comfort. Here in Texas, after the horrific flood in Kerrville just a few months ago, we saw similar movements of compassion and solidarity. The darkness was real, but it did not overcome the light.

And so it is with the tragedies of this past week. Already, we see people being drawn together in prayer for the victims and their families. Already, we hear calls for healing across political and social divides. Already the light shines in the darkness.

Jesus concludes this passage with an urgent invitation: “While ye have light, believe in the light, that ye may be the children of light.” In times of darkness, we have a choice.

We can surrender to fear, hatred, and despair – walking in darkness, not knowing where we are going. Or we can believe in the light revealed on the Cross – the light of divine love that no darkness can overcome – and become children of that light.

My friends, as we celebrate the Exaltation of the Holy Cross following a week marked by tragedy, what does it mean for us, as “The Encouragers,” to “Lift High the Cross?”

It means we acknowledge our need for healing. Like the Israelites bitten by serpents, we recognize that we have been wounded by the evil in our world. The violence we’ve witnessed this past week, the lingering trauma of events like 9/11, the personal losses many of us carry – these are real wounds that need real healing.

We begin by bringing these wounds to the foot of the Cross, looking up to the One who was lifted up for our salvation. The Cross does not ask us to pretend we are not wounded; it invites us to bring our wounds to the Wounded Healer.

To “Lift High the Cross” means we embrace the way of Christ in a world prone to violence. St. Paul urges us to have the same mind as Christ Jesus – the mind of humility, service, and self-giving love. In a culture increasingly marked by the dehumanization of people through violent means, we are called to a different way – the way of the Cross.

It means we become agents of God’s drawing love. As “The Encouragers,” we are called to “Lift High the Cross” in such a way that others are drawn to the healing, reconciling love of Christ.

I’m reminded of a story from our own community. After one of our members lost her husband last year, several of you organized a rotation to check on her daily. You brought meals, helped with yard work, and simply sat with her in her grief. You didn’t offer platitudes or try to explain away her pain. You just embodied the presence of Christ – He who does not abandon us in our suffering but enters into it with us. That is what it means to “Lift High the Cross.”

My fellow encouragers, on this Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, after a week marked by tragedy, let us indeed “lift high the cross, the love of Christ proclaim, till all the world adore his sacred Name.” And as we prepare to receive the Blessed Sacrament – the fruit of the Cross made present among us – let us pray for our nation in these troubled times; for those who have been traumatized, comfort; and for those who lost their lives.

May the God who transformed the Cross from an instrument of death to the source of eternal life, transform our present sorrows into future joy, our fear into faith, and our mourning into dancing.

In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.