Few days ago, I was in conversation with a good friend. The talk between us led to a point where she asked me to picture an image of what it feels like to be my life situation. Without having much trouble I told her I could see a haze of dark dusty gray storm whirling around me. The winds were very strong, making the pieces of damaged rubble fly erratically in the air. There was hardly any visibility of the other side.

And my friend asked me another question, what was I doing in that picture. I told her I could clearly see myself flying up and down in the midst of those heavy winds with both my hands clasped tightly to the thing that looked like a wooden rod. Its very rustic in nature and is immovable and unshakable. Its like a pillar that holds everything together and a rock that is resolutely solid. I was holding it with every ounce of life inside me and not letting it go.

But as I started seeing this picture more intently and slowly shifted my focus to this wooden rod that I tightly held onto, I found myself resting on it very well with my arms effortlessly dropped around it. As I did that, the image of my chaotic turmoil has turned into a beautiful city that is built under a shadow of delight. Its filled with green and good life. Everything in this place is enriching and abundant . I leaned on this structure and sat down at its feet with elated joy and gladness for all the goodness that’s abounding on this other side.

That rustic wooden rod is my Cross, my Christ.