Through Christ, your hardships take on a new meaning – a hopeful meaning! So give God ownership of the painful places in your life, and you will never be the same.
I’m intrigued by the crosses that people wear around their necks.
Hi, I’m Joni Eareckson Tada and my niece has a delicate little cross of pearls and gold. An Episcopalian friend I know has one of those big clunky crosses made of brass. My sister-in-law favors a silver cross with turquoise bits in it, hanging from a leather necklace. What fascinates me most is the idea of wearing a cross at all. Why would we? I mean, a cross is an instrument of torture, an execution machine. Some might say it would be the same as wearing a little silver guillotine, or a gilded hangman’s noose, or an electric chair made of tiny pearls around your neck.
That sounds strange, doesn’t it? I mean, what makes a cross different from other devices of torture? Well, I once heard Elisabeth Elliot say that when it comes to the cross, Christians have exchanged its meaning for something entirely new and wonderful. To us, the very contrivance which killed our Lord Jesus has become the trademark of our hope and salvation. What was once a symbol of horrible death has miraculously become a symbol of eternal life. Death to life. It’s not only what the cross symbolizes, but also the metaphor for every Christian’s life!
Maybe that’s what happened with this wheelchair of mine. To lots of people, my wheelchair is something that symbolizes confinement, alienation, illness, weakness, suffering. But because of the grace of God in my life, the meaning of my wheelchair has been exchanged for something new and even wonderful. This paralysis of mine has drawn me so much closer to Christ. It’s given me a richer experience of his grace and sustaining power. What was once death for me has become a source of life. It’s what my wheelchair means to me now. Perhaps something similar has happened in your experience with Christ. Your symbol may be a back brace instead of a wheelchair. Maybe it’s a cane or crutches; a hearing aid, a pair of thick glasses. Or perhaps a birthmark, or a severe limp, or a prominent scar, or some other disfigurement. Maybe an event or a series of circumstances. Perhaps it is even your child with a disability.
Suffering in itself, of course, is distressing. It’s a negative experience. Who likes it? Who wants it? Even so, when Christ exchanged the meaning of the cross for something new, he was able to open up a whole new realm of possibilities in our own suffering. Through the victory of the cross, he enables us to gain victory in our own hardships. So much so that we, too, can ascribe radiant new meaning to otherwise hurtful and sorrowful symbols. I mean, look at Jacob in the Bible, right? When God knocked his hip out of joint, yes, it was terribly painful. But that limp became God’s mark of ownership on Jacob. And whenever that man leaned upon his staff, every time he limped, it was a reminder to him and everyone else of his need and dependence on God. And that, in turn, was Jacob’s wellspring of life.
When God allowed my accident, it was painful. But the wheelchair I landed in became God’s mark of ownership on my life. I don’t need to go so far as to wear a little turquoise wheelchair around my neck, but the principle’s the same. My disability or your heartaches and hardships can take on new meaning through Christ. So, go from death to life. Move from your hardships to hope. Give God ownership of those painful places and you’ll never be the same.
© Joni and Friends