The Power of the Cross
There is no message more offensive to hell than the message of the cross. Not just the image. Not just the story. The reality of it. The absolute, irreversible, history splitting, cosmos altering weight of what took place that day on Golgotha still shakes the foundations of darkness. The power of the cross is not in its familiarity, it is in its finality. When Jesus stretched out His arms and allowed Roman nails to fasten Him to splintered wood, He was not being overtaken. He was overtaking. This was not martyrdom. This was a military act of eternal conquest.
The cross is where wrath met mercy, where justice kissed grace, where sin was judged and sinners were redeemed. It was not just the crucifixion of a man, it was the execution of the entire curse. Every generational pattern. Every perversion of identity. Every grip of shame. Every voice of accusation. Every right that hell thought it had over you was stripped naked and nailed beside Him. Publicly. Violently. Forever.
The cross is where the serpent’s head was crushed, even as the heel of the Son was pierced. From Eden to Calvary, the Father had one target in mind, restoration. The cross was the price of bringing many sons to glory. He didn’t just want to save you from hell. He wanted you to sit with Him in heavenly places. That’s the scandal of this gospel. He didn’t die to improve your behavior, He died to resurrect your nature. To reintroduce you to yourself. To reframe you in His image. To make you a son, not a slave.
And that power, that cross, is not a relic of the past. It is not just a theological checkpoint we acknowledge on the way to deeper things. It is the deep thing. The gospel does not graduate beyond the cross. It roots itself in it. The power that conquered death still pulses through those who believe. And not just believe in the event, but believe in the finished work. That the blood was enough. That the veil was torn. That the debt was canceled. That the accusations have no audience. That the accuser was cast down. That access has been granted. And that nothing, nothing, can separate us from the love of God revealed in Christ Jesus.
We do not worship a weak, limp Savior hanging helplessly from a tree. We worship the Lion of Judah, who chose the cross, not because He was overpowered, but because He was unwilling to leave us in captivity. That cross was a weapon. It was not just a place of death, it was a door to dominion. His body broken so ours could be whole. His blood poured out so we could be brought near. His breath extinguished so ours could be filled with the Spirit. Every whip, every thorn, every mocking word was swallowed into glory and turned into a key that now hangs from the belt of our victorious King.
And if you are in Christ, that is your inheritance. Not survival. Not religion. Not spiritual tourism. Not a Sunday ritual. But access. Bold access. Sonship. Resurrection life. Freedom that doesn’t waver. Righteousness that doesn’t fade. Peace that doesn’t bend to circumstance. Joy that doesn’t wait for the storm to stop. The cross didn’t give you a better day, it gave you a new creation.
This is why we boast in the cross. This is why Paul said, “I determined to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and Him crucified.” Because everything we need, everything we are, everything we’re called to walk in, it all flows from that hill, that blood, that body. It is not just where we were forgiven. It is where we were remade.
So we don’t shrink back. We don’t flinch. We don’t mix the cross with self help or motivational fluff. The power of the cross is not in how it makes us feel, it’s in how it redefined what is possible. The old man didn’t get a second chance. He got buried. And the new man lives by the same Spirit that raised Christ from the dead.
You want to walk in authority? Start at the cross. You want to silence the voices of your past? Point to the cross. You want to break fear off your family line? Carry the cross. Die daily. Live fully. Move forward in the full weight of what was purchased. The cross is not just enough, it’s everything.
The blood still speaks. The cross still stands. And the grave is still empty.
Now pick up your cross, not in shame, but in boldness, and follow the King who turned an instrument of torture into a throne of triumph.
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