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Lent is almost upon us, and in this article I am going to jump right in with a sentence from Mark’s Gospel: (8:34): He called the crowd with his disciples and said, “If anyone wants to be my disciple, let him deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me.”
Yes, here is another attempt to examine the place of the cross in our lives!
There are four parts to this sentence of the Lord, and I am inviting you to take a look at each one.
First, if anyone wants to be my disciple (more literally, if anyone wants to follow after me).
This phrase raises a question that is ever pertinent for us: do I still want to be his disciple? What comes next has this as a presupposition. So only those who want to be disciples of Jesus need read further.
Are you still with me?
Depending on which writer you are reading, there are various ways used to describe the cross of Jesus: sceptre (of the king); scandal; tree of life; tree of wisdom; altar of sacrifice, instrument of torture, judgment of the world, and so forth.
Given the fact that the cross is touted here as the destiny of Christians, this phrase invites me to be as clear as I can about what I want.
At one point in my life, I would have responded immediately: “Of course I want to be your disciple, Lord.”
But looking at myself more honestly, I don’t always give evidence of that, and some of my choices betray me.
So, at the beginning of Lent it’s time to do an honest examen and search within to test what it is that I really want more than anything else. What will I discover?
Is it comfort? A good night’s sleep? A different place to live? One more piece of good steak? One true friend? To get out of debt? To be noticed? To go unnoticed? World peace? Peace in my own heart?
Or could it possibly be “communion with Jesus Christ”? What if every other authentic blessing possible is included in this last one?
Many of us grow up with the false belief that the cross of Jesus represents life’s potential tragically halted, as no doubt, the first disciples regarded the crucifixion of their Leader.
Statements like the following reveal this attitude: “She used to do so much in the parish, but now she’s caring for her husband’s parents.” “He was showing such promise at work, but then an accident crippled him for life.” “She used to … but now ….” “He was showing such potential, but then … It’s a shame!”
But what if the cross is the doorway and key to the kingdom of God? Constrained by this “narrow door,” a whole new development of life in us can burst forth, despite appearances.
Of course, most of the time the cross consists not of dramatic tragedy but of the duties of everyday life, carried out with attention and love. But for these things to be fully the grace the Lord intends, the words that follow are essential.
Let him deny himself …
Self-denial gets a bad press in contemporary Western culture. In this part of the world, we broke out of those chains long ago, and no one is much interested in going back to the repressive atmosphere of former days. Why, then, did the Lord insist on its necessity for his followers?
After all, the implications of this word are awfully radical: the word means to disown, to renounce claim to. Imagine! Being asked to renounce all claim to one’s own life! To hand one’s life over to the Lord Jesus just like that.
What will happen to me? Myself? And I? My freedom? My dreams? My hopes? My talents? My deepest desires? My season’s tickets to the Notre Dame football games?
We tend to fear the worst when it comes to reflecting on what the Lord might ask of us. But he knows what we need to let go of so that our spirits are led to cling to him rather than to this thing or that or to this person or that.
Gradually, slowly, sometimes painfully, we are led to hand over our very life to Jesus. I no longer have so much a life of my own but rather the one he wishes to live in me.
But the Lord is no cruel tyrant who occupies the throne of our heart by force and then does whatever he wills, to our detriment. Rather he seeks only to live in me the fullness of who I am created to be.
It is the great paradox of fallen human nature that the most positive expression of self can only occur through a denial by that same self of its own self-serving tendencies.
And it is a divine paradox that the Lord renounced his own glory to make possible his reigning from within human hearts. Because of this, God raised him high (Philippians 2:9) … and us with him (see Ephesians 2:6).
Take up his cross.
The verb implies a gesture of strength, confidence, given to us by God, for who doesn’t tremble at the thought of taking up his or her cross!
But this is the cross not imagined by me, not designed by me, not made by me, but imagined, designed and made for me, for the sake of eternal life. This is the cross that goes with my life, not the one someone else is called to live.
It is not more than I can take; it is not less than my measure—and to take it up and carry it is an achievement of grace from God rather than my own accomplishment.
It may be beyond what I imagine is even possible for me, but something about it beckons me to the arena of life, where Christ’s kingdom seeks to break through the resistance of the world, the flesh, and the devil. It is a resistance that I know well, since it abides daily to be overcome in my own heart.
Taking up one’s cross implies effort, struggle, too; it goes without saying.
Whatever in our life is a duty of love, care, forgiveness, vigilance over others, work, self-care, in short, laying down one’s life for others, is all part of this immense mystery. As is personal suffering, endurance through the darkness of faith, problems without number and without resolution at home, at work, in the community, in government.
This phrase is God’s call to care, to keep trying, to keep believing unto the very end; and because the Lord asks this of his disciples, there is a grace to do it, beyond all expectation. And when we fall, he raises us up so that forgiven and hopefully humbler, we can try again.
And follow me:
To follow someone day and night, one must stay close to that person always. One must give him or her full attention, especially if that person alone knows the route that must be followed if we are to reach our goal.
It is something like the experience of Israel in the desert. A bright cloud guided them by day, a pillar of fire by night. If the cloud moved, they broke camp and followed it. If it came to rest, they pitched camp and stayed put until it moved again.
Only this divine presence knew which direction to take, when to move, when to stop, when to approach the Promised Land, when to pause at the edge of the Red Sea.
And so it is that we follow Jesus very carefully, vigilant in prayer, alert as we can be to his every gesture, every indication of moving with his Spirit.
He alone knows the pathway through our own life’s circumstances that leads to eternal life for us and the blessings of the kingdom for many others, known or unknown to us.
There is no tragedy he did not suffer in his Passion and Death. There is no evil he did not conquer, no sin he did not take upon himself to forgive and transform.
Our Lord is the pathway, the truth, the life, and so we never seek to go ahead of him or around him, but only after him, as he leads us day by day, through Lent and Easter and onward into eternity.
