One of my most cherished spots at Ffald y Brenin is the High Cross. There’s something intimate and reassuring about coming to the end of the path, opening the gate, and seeing that simple cross standing – firm and silent – on rugged rock.
The setting is picturesque. The yellow gorse petals flickering in the wind, the depth of the valley beyond, and the gnarled hawthorn that perfectly frames the scene all work together to engage my senses. It’s easy to linger in God’s presence here.
Photo: Emily Hague
But after returning to my job at Ffald y Brenin after maternity leave, I was dismayed to find that the hawthorn that gave so much visual texture to the scene had been knocked over by the wind. Due to safety, it had to be cut down entirely.
I paused in my tracks, mouth open, and stared at the starkness of the stump. The tree no longer framed the cross. When compared to the romantic beauty I remembered, the scene looked raw and exposed. “This can’t go on our calendar covers!” I lamented.
And then I sensed the quiet voice of Jesus: “I was exposed on the cross for you.”
A dose of reality.
The crucifixion was not picturesque.
The cross was not beautiful.
Jesus’s death was not romantic.
He was exposed for my sin.
My attachment to the visual beauty of the High Cross had almost kept me from the very essence of it.
I shared this reflection with our church on Palm Sunday. It prompted someone else from the congregation to share from Isaiah 11:1-2:
“There shall come forth a shoot from the stump of Jesse,
and a branch from his roots shall bear fruit.
And the Spirit of the Lord shall rest upon him,
the Spirit of wisdom and understanding,
the Spirit of counsel and might,
the Spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord.”
In the lead-up to Easter, let us sit with the reality that before Good Friday was good, it was ugly. Jesus was exposed for our iniquities.
And the next time you visit the High Cross, may the starkness of the stump remind you that from Jesus’s loving sacrifice, shoots of life have come forth into the world.
