It must have seemed a peculiar sight. A straggly baggly group of people walking the streets of Hamilton with a thumping great cross. Every so often this gaggle stopped, said some words and sang a hymn. How peculiar to see in our secular society, a religious symbol in broad daylight. Yet there we all were on Good Friday stretching our legs in the delicious sunshine that Hamilton offered. There was actually more going on than meets the eye in the Walk of Faith. For one thing, there was a respectful unity amongst the folk. While we might politely disagree on some theological niceties, while our acts of worship look quite different, nevertheless we can all agree and come together on this our day of days.
Together, we are those who worship the one who was stripped completely naked and nailed to the cross with great, big, gnarly spikes. Blood spurting out onto the soldiers forearms as they belted away and did their worst.We agreed that this guy's death all those years ago has profound significance for our own inevitable death. The last gasp of the Master Carpenter, is our last gasp on this side of the grave which will actually be our first on the other side. The shiny box at the front of the church / chapel / over an open grave, is actually a sleek, polished, streamlined vehicle which catapults us into another dimension; a deeper relationship and an unending way of life. An existence that does not know the junk and the ick of our daily wrestling.
So this rag tag group of people gazed up at the simple timber and with a united heart remembered.
Again, we entered into His drama, which is our drama. The ‘I’ crossed out, which both liberates us and unites us.