Somebody Big
The size of his cross is the size of his love.
Every Lent a church in Atlanta arranges to have a massive cross planted on the front lawn that grabs the attention of even the most hurried driver on the busy streets. The cross is furled in purple until Easter Sunday, when the congregation arranges with a florist to have the giant cross festooned in flowers of every color and hue.
One Sunday during Lent, one of the buses that brings people to the church pulled into the driveway while the driver - who was doing this for the first time - was in animated conversation with someone who was riding the bus. When he drove in, he suddenly saw this huge cross. Right in the middle of his conversation, he interrupted his train of thought and exclaimed: “My God, somebody BIG must have died!”
He was thinking about one of those little white roadside crosses that people put up, sad to say, when somebody’s been killed. And this one was a size he had never seen.
Somebody big did die. Journey with him for these remaining days of Lent and follow him to the cross. Rediscover how big he really is. Be amazed once again, as if for the first time, the size of his cross. Which is the size of his love.
PRAYER: Jesus, sometimes I make you quite a small part of my life. I don’t mean to. I just get caught up in things and busyness and responsibility and trying to do it all. But in it I’m afraid I lose my perspective and minimize you and what you mean to me. I’m sorry. I need you to be bigger to me than what I’ve allowed you to be these past few weeks. I know how big you really are. How amazing your grace is. How deep and wide your love is. How extraordinary your mercy. How extreme your care. Open my eyes, Jesus, with a faith filled vision that focuses on you. Let me consider everything else in life to be smaller, and you to be big. Amen.
Devotion adapted from “The One Who Goes Ahead!” Peachtree Presbyterian Pulpit, April 12, 1998