Cross | Pardon
The cross is God’s forgiveness for sinful people. The cross means substitution—his life for your life. It means justification—justice is attained by his sacrifice in your place and for your sins. It means forgiveness, that what you deserve for your offenses has been taken on by another.
The gospel as pardon is thrilling news for those who are overwhelmed with guilt. This is gospel for those who are tortured with shame. For those who are nagged by conviction. For those who feel dirty over their thoughts, words, or deeds. For those who feel that there is no way that a good God could love a bad person. For those who feel that every bad thing that happens is God punishing for the bad things they’ve done. The cross: God’s pardon for us.
Invocation
Make the sign of the cross and say,
In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Invitation Prayer
“Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love, for I have put my trust in you” (Psalm 143:8).
Jesus came that we might receive pardon and forgiveness. Our sins haunt us with guilt and shame. We confess that we too often cower in fear instead of living in joy. John writes, “There is no fear in love…for fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love” (John 4:18).
Consider your sin and fear this day: Fear of death.
Now consider the pardon of the cross of Christ: “In this is love, not that we have loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the atoning sacrifice for our sins” (I John 4:10). God’s love is proven to you in sacrifice. Wood and nails, sweat and blood, pain and a last breath. By the death and resurrection of Jesus, fear is confronted and cast out. With no conditions or strings attached, you are loved by God!
Word
“Every valley shall be lifted up,
and every mountain and hill be made low;
the uneven ground shall become level,
and the rough places a plain.
And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed,
and all flesh shall see it together,
for the mouth of the Lord has spoken.” (Isaiah 40:4-5)
Meditation
“Uneven Ground” by Megan Roegner
When I was a child, I didn’t understand that Advent is meant to observe both the first coming of Christ and to anticipate the second. As an adult, the idea makes me uncomfortable. The “second coming” is a phrase that—thanks to William Butler Yeats, B-movie horror films, and false, cultish prophecies—evokes in me a sense of unease. I believe the words of the Nicene Creed: “He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead, and his kingdom will have no end.” But I’d probably also be quick to assure a non-Christian friend, with a blush and images of Kirk Cameron in Left Behind in my head, that I don’t think that’s happening anytime soon. It’s much more sensible, after all, to focus on the here and now. Right?
But the here and now is strange in its own way. A broken world filled with people struggling to make their way through its uneven ground. Christians believe that our sins are forgiven, that through the grace of God and Jesus’s death and resurrection we will live eternally and perfectly with God after death. But while we’re still here, even after Jesus’s first coming, we experience pain, guilt, and grief. To use Isaiah’s imagery, our lives in this in-between time are filled with mountains and valleys: joy in the knowledge of our salvation; despair at our persistent sinfulness.
What does it mean to live between the first coming and the second? The terrifying beauty of a liminal space is that it is transformational. You know who you were. You know who you are called to be. Perhaps today you can ask yourself how God is shaping you as you journey through this uneven ground.
The In-Between
by Megan Roegner
You said it was day
and it was night.
But I don’t know yet
what it means to be
just one thing or the other.
What about twilight?
The darkening of dusk,
the brightening of dawn—
in-between, unresolved,
still beautiful, still yours.
The man on the radio
this morning said,
with authority, that
the sun rose just
sixteen seconds ago.
As if sunrise is
a singular moment
and not an unceasing
intercession between
dark and light.
Closing Prayer
Jesus, you are our light in the dark. Prepare our hearts for your return. As we wait, keep our identities grounded in you. Amen.