On a hill faraway stood an old rugged cross,
The emblem of suffering and shame.
And I love that old cross, where the Dearest and Best
For a world of lost sinners was slain.
We see them in many places...three crosses to remind us of the meaning of Easter. The empty cross...the leftover emblem from Christ's passion. Just a few sticks and splinters and often in fields overgrown with weeds. But they represent the Hope of those who are called Christians.
These crosses are on a back road in North Florida. They stand beside a burned out church building. People prayed in this building. They hit their knees and accepted Jesus as their savior in this building. They loved, they cried, they got married, they buried their dead...all from within this white frame building. And now it's a burned out shell. But God knows it all...and remembers. What is bound on earth is bound in heaven.
Those who pass by this way...if they look with the right eyes...glimpse God's glory in a rugged, weather beaten cross amid a field of weeds and sandspurs. And maybe their hearts whisper a little prayer: "Thank you, Jesus."