When the Cross Interrupts the 'Come Up'
We all love a good success story. We love the part of faith where the blessings are flowing, the prayers are answered, and the miracles are undeniable. Jesus taught with so much power and authority that the crowds loved Him—until He got to the part they couldn't stomach. I want to ask you a hard question today, one that resonates deeply when we are walking through the valley: Are you a 'come up' Christian only? The 'come up' is the part of the story where the success is accumulating and the benefits are accruing. It's when God is opening doors and providing the exact answers we outlined in our prayer journals.
It seems that Peter, as he followed Jesus through a certain season, was experiencing this very come up. When Jesus started talking about suffering, it felt like the ultimate betrayal of Peter's faith. When Jesus said He was going to the cross, Peter essentially said, 'No, not you. This isn't how the story is supposed to go.' The cross interrupted the come up. And if we are honest, we often feel the exact same way when tragedy strikes, when the diagnosis comes, or when the relationship shatters. We want the crown without the thorns. We want the resurrection without the grave.
But Jesus, looking right at the places where we hide our deepest insecurities and our tightest grip on control, doesn't offer us a shortcut. If you are sitting in a season of profound disappointment, wondering where God went, I need you to hear this: the cross was not a mistake, and your pain is not without a purpose. Jesus looks at our clinging to worldly security just as He looked at the rich young ruler. He asks us to trade our heavy, temporary possessions for the eternal weight of His glory. It feels like a loss, but it is the only path to true, unshakable life.
Then Jesus beholding him loved him, and said unto him, One thing thou lackest: go thy way, sell whatsoever thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven: and come, take up the cross, and follow me.— Mark 10:21, KJV
The Weight of the Darkest Hour
I know what it is like to sit in the dark and wonder if God has forgotten your address. When the pain is so loud you cannot hear the promises, it is easy to believe that heaven has gone silent. If you have ever felt entirely abandoned, look at Golgotha. From the sixth hour to the ninth hour, a literal, suffocating darkness fell over the entire land. Jesus did not just endure the physical agony of the nails; He absorbed the absolute terror of separation from His Father. He entered into the darkest void so that you would never have to navigate your darkness alone.
People often ask why Jesus died. They want a neat, philosophical answer that fits on a bumper sticker. But the answer isn't just found in a theology textbook; it is written in the blood and tears of the Son of God. He died to take the full, crushing weight of our brokenness upon Himself. He drank the bitter cup of rejection so that you would never have to taste it. What happened down in my soul when my shackles fell off was directly paid for by the agony He endured in the dark.
When you cry out in the middle of the night, feeling misunderstood, betrayed, and broken, you are echoing the very Savior who hung on the wood. He knows the sound of a shattered heart. He knows the feeling of being poured out until there is absolutely nothing left. Your savior is not a distant, untouchable deity. He is a high priest who has felt the piercing sting of utter forsakenness, crying out into the blackness on your behalf.
And at the ninth hour Jesus cried with a loud voice, saying, Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani? which is, being interpreted, My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?— Mark 15:34, KJV
The Insults That Announced Our Freedom
As Jesus hung there, suffocating under the weight of our sin, the crowds walked by and wagged their heads. The religious leaders, the experts in the law, stood at the foot of the cross and mocked Him. They sneered, 'He saved others; himself he cannot save.' They demanded that He come down from the cross to prove His sovereignty. They fundamentally misunderstood the assignment. They thought His inability to come down was proof of His weakness, completely blind to the reality that it was the ultimate proof of His power.
Sometimes the insults the enemy hurls at you are the greatest compliments to the calling God has placed on your life. The religious elite used the title 'King of Israel' to mock Him, but they were actually announcing Him. Jesus had the power to call down legions of angels and step off that cross in a blaze of glory. But the nails did not keep Him on the tree; His relentless, consuming love for you did. He stayed up there because He is the Son of God, enduring the shame so that your shame could be permanently erased.
This is the radical, scandalous truth of the gospel. The Apostle Paul captures it perfectly in Romans 5:8, reminding us that God commends His love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. He did not wait for us to clean up our act. On the cross, that is where my sin is. On the cross, that is where my mistakes are. On the cross, that is where all of my second-guessings and regrets are redeemed. He met us in our absolute worst state and offered us His absolute best.
Likewise also the chief priests mocking said among themselves with the scribes, He saved others; himself he cannot save. Let Christ the King of Israel descend now from the cross, that we may see and believe.— Mark 15:31-32, KJV
The Torn Veil and the Open Door
I have heard sermons and seen movies about what happened on the cross. Sometimes it makes you feel sentimental; sometimes it makes you feel sick. But what happened on the cross went far beyond what a film camera can present in twenty-four frames per second. It was the cosmic collision of God's perfect justice and His infinite mercy. It was the definitive release of the freedom that God wants to produce in your life. When Jesus breathed His last, the earth didn't just shake—the spiritual atmosphere was fractured, tearing open a reality that still changes everything for you today.
The heavy, thick veil in the temple—the massive woven barrier that separated humanity from the holy presence of God—was violently torn in two from top to bottom. It was not torn from the bottom up, as if man had finally climbed high enough to reach God. It was torn from the top down, declaring that God had finally reached man. The access was granted. The debt was canceled. The chasm between our brokenness and His holiness was bridged by the broken body of the Savior.
The cross is where the impossible becomes possible. The disciples once looked at Jesus, overwhelmed by their own inadequacy, and asked, 'Who then can be saved?' Jesus looked right back at them and said that with men it is impossible, but not with God. God looks at the finished work of His Son and says the door to the Kingdom is wide open. The cross isn't just a historical event or a piece of jewelry; it is the living, breathing guarantee that you are entirely forgiven and fiercely loved.
And Jesus cried with a loud voice, and gave up the ghost. And the veil of the temple was rent in twain from the top to the bottom.— Mark 15:37-38, KJV
So when you feel like you are standing at the absolute end of your rope, look back to the place of the skull. Remember that the story does not end in the silence of the grave. The cross still changes everything because it proves that there is no depth of your pain that God's grace cannot reach, no record of your wrongs that His blood cannot wash away, and no broken piece of your life that His love cannot beautifully resurrect. Take up your cross today, beloved, not as a burden of shame, but as the very instrument of your astonishing freedom.