Car Cross

About a year ago, I pulled into the garage at LSTC, parked my car and opened my door.  When I looked down to step out of my car, I found a small wooden cross stuck in the crack of the pavement.  Something about this cross struck me.  I pulled it out of the crack, since it was wedged in there, likely having been run over by other cars, and placed it in the cup holder in my car.

I've driven around with that cross in my car since then, thinking often of how Christ is in some unexpected places.  Sometimes, Christ is jammed down into a crack in the desolate pavement.  Sometimes, Christ is forgotten and left behind.  Sometimes, Christ appears when we think we've got a good, academic understanding of Christ's essence, but haven't thought much lately about Christ's love for us.

I think through these thoughts and many others, every time I drive, since that cross goes with me.  I envisioned one day using it for a sermon illustration, even holding up the actual cross to show off the simple design.

On Thursday, one of the kids who comes regularly to our Sanctuary program needed a ride home.  It's pretty typical for me to end up driving at least a few kids home.  Occasionally, it's because they don't feel safe.  Often, I think it's because they want the extra few minutes of special attention, which I am happy to give.  I only had one passenger on Thursday night and he's a boy that has touched my heart over the last few months.  His smile makes the room brighter and he is an absolute sweetheart.  I've given him rides home in my car before and he usually asks if he can have something.  This week, he asked for my cross.

I hesitated for a moment, thinking about all of my conversations with God regarding this little wooden cross.  I thought about those questions I've asked about where Christ is in the world today and about the future sermon illustration.  I quickly snapped out of my selfish desire to push that cross of Christ back into the pavement crack and agreed to give him the cross.  I told him that this cross has been very special to me for awhile, so I hope that it's special to him too.

The cynical side of me wonders if the cross even made it into his house before being dropped and forgotten. Regardless of where the physical cross ended up, it was my job to share it.  It's my job to share Christ's love, no matter if they take it the way that I want them to receive it.  It's not my job to shove Christ back down and far away from our conversations, from our interactions, from our lives, because that's not who Christ was and is.

I hope and pray that the cross, Jesus' life, death and resurrection, means that this little boy feels loved in his life, regardless of whether he holds the wooden reminder of this in his hands or not.