Beneath the cross of Jesus
I fain would take my stand,
the shadow of a mighty rock
within a weary land;
a home within the wilderness,
a rest upon the way,
from the burning of the noontide heat,
and the burden of the day.
Beneath the cross of Jesus
mine eye at times can see
the very dying form of One
who suffered there for me;
and from my stricken heart with tears
two wonders I confess:
the wonders of redeeming love
and my unworthiness.
I take, O cross, thy shadow
for my abiding place;
I ask no other sunshine than
the sunshine of his face;
content to let the world go by,
to know no gain nor loss,
my sinful self my only shame,
my glory all the cross.
---Beneath the Cross of Jesus, by Elizabeth C. Clephane, 1868
I love this hymn. It seems to be the natural cry of my weary soul. When we sang it a few weeks ago, a few words caught my attention. Shadow. Home. Rest. Abiding place. I imagine the few people gathered at the foot of the cross, content in the shadow of it. I feel myself, thousands of years later, piled in a wounded and weary heap at his feet, desiring to be nowhere else but in the safety of redemption.
While I know that this abiding place ultimately is our eternal home with God, I wonder about the beginning of our eternal life here on earth. Shouldn’t these words describe the church? How often do we think of the church as our home within the wilderness? As we gather with other sick and sore pilgrims, aren’t we all seeking the same thing: the assurance of his redeeming love, despite our unworthiness?
But how do we treat these other pilgrims? Do we welcome one another into the shadow? Do we care to bear one another’s burdens? Are we brave enough to share ours? I wonder when people see Grace Evan, our church home, do they see the reflection of “the sunshine of his face.” I certainly hope so... don’t you?
