What does the cross mean to me?

I’m the daughter of two successful type “A’s”.

To say that I despise failure would be putting it mildly.


So after digging myself into a pit of sin and knowing full well how desperately I needed forgiveness and a Savior, I gave my life to Christ.  I made this cross personal.  It was my sin on His shoulders.

I found for quite some time afterwards- I would hold the communion cup-full of the symbol of His blood and say, “I’m sorry. “  I AM SO SORRY IT CAME TO THIS.


The betrayal.
The whipping.
The thorns.
The blood.
The shame.


And then one day the Lord spoke into the quiet of my heart.

                        “Lee, your sin didn’t sneak up on me.  I knew you, Child.”

                        “The cross wasn’t plan B because you failed me.  I knew.”

And isn’t that what Revelation says-
that the Lamb was slain before the creation of the world.
His death was Plan A.

And it’s easy for me to hold that at arms length and not really allow that to penetrate the depths of me until this-

For he chose us in him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in his sight.

In love he predestinedus to be adopted as his sons through Jesus Christ, in accordance with his pleasure and will—to the praise of his glorious grace, which he has freely given us in the One he loves.

 In him we have redemption through his blood,the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God’s gracethat he lavished on us. – Ephesians 1:4-8

He lavished love, in advance, on me.

I can stop surveying the depth of my failure in the blood of the cross and instead find wild, unmerited, unabashed love.

Love that warrants my everything.

Somewhere along the way, the Lord whispered this on my heart.

                                    “Lee stop saying ‘I’m so sorry.'”

                                    “Say, thank you now, child.”

Thank you.  Thank you, Jesus.

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