The Beauty In Ugly

Everyone is fully aware by now that my friend R and I are "athletes in training".  I was driving to her place to meet her for a walk the other evening. I know that technically speaking, driving isn't actually an athletic activity but it's an effective way to get somewhere fast. Anyway I was waiting at yet another red light - there are 13 sets of lights on the way to R's house, I counted them ...and each one of them is red - and I noticed the car next to me had a big cross dangling from the rear vision mirror. Personally, I hate things that dangle in my view while I'm driving but who am I to judge? I felt for the amber cross around my own neck and started thinking...as you do. I really love my cross. Beloved gave it to me for Christmas about 8 years ago and I've worn it every day since. It's my "signature" piece of jewellery and I've had loads of compliments on how beautiful it is.

Being semi-professional athletes, R and I are fully aware that we should be able to talk whilst walking, without getting puffed. So we spend a lot of time complaining about sore feet and sharing our most profound thoughts, otherwise known as gossip and chat about nothing particularly important. I was feeling especially deep on this occasion and decided to tell her about my observation. I'm not really sure if it made a lot of sense.

I figure that the cross was a nasty piece of work created by the Romans with the sole purpose of killing off the scummiest criminals with as much suffering as humanly possibly. There have been plenty of other instruments of death and torture over the years and I began to wonder, if Jesus had suffered a different kind of death, what jewellery, stained glass windows and other objet d'art we would have decorating our cars and necks instead of the cross with the clean symmetry, encrusted so beautifully with silver and swarovski crystals. I might look rather fetching in something like...ooh, I dunno...a guillotine pendant?

I can see that head hole lending itself to a nice piece of bling

The guillotine strikes me as a quick and clean type of execution. Likewise with the pistol:

Quite snazzy really, eh?

Personally I think "death by chocolate" would have been a nicer way to go and I wouldn't mind wearing a block of Hershey's around my neck - although the irony of a noose on a pendant has a certain charm (incidentally, my grandfather was tragically executed by hanging in the 1930s but that's a whole other blog post). I couldn't find a noose pendant but this bracelet looks pretty stylie:

Gratuitous hanging cartoon

I know I had something very insightful to say about this whole execution thing but somehow in the streets of South Auckland I lost my train of thought. Thankfully God seemed to think that it was worth explaining further and during Church on Sunday, my friend H had a similar epiphany. Only, she explained it better.

She'd been looking at the cross at the front and it struck her that it was a rough instrument of torture and death. Then her mind wandered off in a similar direction to mine as she began to wonder how an electric chair would suit a stained glass window. 

Couldn't find an electric chair in a stained glass window

As H was speaking, I nudged R in the ribs just to make sure she was aware that I had said it first (not that I'm competitive or anything). Then H got to the point. It seems that the very cross itself has been redeemed - almost revered. Something so ugly and horrendous, has been converted into something else because Jesus bled and died on it and miraculously rose to life three days later. Then H said it: "Like us". In a way, we were ugly with all the stinky stuff we've said and done and because of Jesus, we're changed. We've been made beautiful because of Him. As Christina Aguilera would say: "I am beautiful, in every kind of way...". And so are you. Because of Jesus.

The Cross In My Pocket

by

Ummm...I don't know who wrote it but I love it anyway

I carry a cross in my pocket

A simple reminder to me

Of the fact that I am a Christian

No matter where I may be.

This little cross is not magic

Nor is it a good luck charm

It isn't meant to protect me

From every physical harm.

It's not for identification

For all the world to see

It's simply an understanding

Between my Savior and me.

When I put my hand in my pocket

To bring out a coin or key

The cross is there to remind me

Of the price He paid for me.

It reminds me, too, to be thankful

For my blessings day by day

And to strive to serve Him better

In all that I do and say.

It's also a daily reminder

Of the peace and comfort I share

With all who know my master

And give themselves to His care.

So, I carry a cross in my pocket

Reminding no one but me

That Jesus Christ is Lord of my life

If only I'll let Him be.