"...but to those who are being saved, it is the very power of God."
His beautiful dark curls were plastered to his little forehead with sweat, as crocodile tears of epic proportions trickled down his sweet pink face. He looked up at me with his shimmery blue eyes and emitted a heartbreaking sob from his little vocal chords. Such a big sound for someone so small. I held him closer to my chest as I paced back and forth across the dimly lit room, willing him to fall asleep with every fiber of my being. He was so tired. So worn out. So helpless. Maybe even a little bit frightened. But as much as he needed rest, he didn't want it. He only wanted the solace of his mother. I couldn't be that, but I was trying my hardest to come as close as possible.
"It's ok, buddy. Shhh, it's ok. Everything's gonna be alright. Go to sleep, sweet boy, " I whispered softly in his ear. Humming a made-up tune, I paced...I bounced...I rocked...all to no avail. He stiffened his little body, emanating another shrill cry from his tiny lungs. His salty tears soaked my shirt, and it was all I could do to not let my own tears spill out the corners of my eyes. I wanted so badly to console him, but I felt as helpless as he did. As I whispered an almost silent prayer, his tiny flailing hand made contact with my shiny silver necklace, and his chubby baby fingers tightened around the petite cross dangling from the chain. And he didn't let go...
I could feel the clasp digging into the back of my neck and thought for sure he would rip the charm right off. He writhed and screamed and cried, but he never let go of that little cross. It was as if his very life depended on it. A serious death grip. And suddenly, like a freight train barreling at my heart, a thought struck me...
"Shouldn't we all have a death grip on the Cross?"
When we become followers of Christ, realizing what our Savior has done for us, we embrace the Cross that dripped with blood for the ransom of our very souls. The love that is etched into every inch of the Cross stops us dead in our tracks, and we cling to it as if our life depended on it. Because...it does...
But somewhere along the way, we let go. We get sidetracked. We get caught up in our own wants and desires and selfish pride. Sure, we know the importance of the Cross, but we don't keep it at the forefront of our minds. We don't forget the story of what Christ did on that Cross...but we forget the reality of what He did on that Cross. We lose sight of the fact that without the Cross, we would 100% be condemned to an eternity of horrible, never-ending punishment. We place second to other things that with the Cross, we are given a second chance; we are given something that we do not deserve. Mercy and grace. Without the Cross, we have neither. It is the reason we exist. The reason we can press on and do what we do. Without it, we have nothing. Therefore, when we are tired, worn out, helpless, frightened, frustrated, confused, hurting, desperate...or even when we're not...we have no reason to not have a death grip on that Cross...'cause after all, it's message "is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved, it is the VERY...POWER...OF GOD."**
I looked down at the sleeping baby in my arms. His cheeks were still tear-stained, his body sweaty, and his face red...but he let out a peaceful little sigh...and his tiny fingers still had a death grip on the cross.
**emphasis added by author
[scripture taken from I Corinthians 1:18]
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