I think it is an incredible thing to be a teacher of the Word of God. If you have never been a pastor, or lived in the home of a pastor, you probably don't know the extent to which these men pour themselves into their ministry. It is an incredible sacrifice, often with great personal cost. But, oh, to be used by God to speak truth into His children!
This verse, and the God-inspired words of our pastor, shook me to the core today. And the funny thing is, it wasn't even the main point of the message that did it. It was a side point, a separate revelation that dawned in my heart as our pastor shared a poignant illustration. And God stirred inside my heart.
What does it mean to take up your cross daily? As our pastor explained, in the day when Christ spoke these words, his audience would have understood that a person carrying a cross was approaching imminent death. Condemned to die. Jesus carried a cross - my cross - and gave His life upon it to pay the penalty for my sin. If He already bore my cross, why do I have to take it up again? The Bible says there is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus (Romans 8:1), right?
In short, taking up my cross means choosing to die to the world and all the things the world says are important. It is daily choosing not to be conformed to the world (Romans 12:2). This is what Christ said we are to do if we want to truly follow Him.
And here's where the side point came in. When you are deliberately different from the world, you should expect the world to treat you with hostility. As our pastor pointed out, we don't really understand what it means to be persecuted here in America, praise God. We get upset when kids are told they can't pray in school or the Ten Commandments are taken down from a public library. But we have no idea what real persecution is.
Then he read this story from a book called Jesus Freaks: Stories of Those Who Stood for Jesus.
For years, Pastor Kim and 27 of his flock of Korean saints had lived in hand-dug tunnels beneath the earth. Then as the communists were building a road, they discovered the Christians living underground.
The officials brought them out before a crowd of 30,000 in the village of Gok San for a public trial and execution. They were told, “Deny Christ, or you will die.” But they refused.
At this point the head Communist officer ordered four children from the group seized and had them prepared for hanging. With ropes tied around their small necks, the official again commanded the parents to deny Christ. Not one of the believers would deny their faith. They told the children, we will see you in Heaven.” The children died quickly.
The officer then called for a steamroller to be brought in. He forced the Christians to lay on the ground in its path. As its engines revved, they were given one last chance to recant their faith in Jesus. Again they refused.
As the steamroller began to inch forward, the Christians began to sing a song they had often sung together. As their bones and bodies were crushed under the pressure of the massive rollers, their lips uttered the words:
“More love to thee, O Christ, more love to thee
Thee alone I seek, more love to thee
Let sorrow do its work, more love to thee
Then shall my latest breath whisper Thy praise
This be the parting cry my heart shall raise;
More love, O Christ, to thee.”
I can't even tell you how this story wrenched my heart. Because it's one thing to realize as a Christ-follower I have to deny the things of the world. It would be another thing altogether to have to deny my children when I could save their lives with a word. To cling to Jesus and watch my children hang. I imagine the steamroller couldn't have caused any greater pain than what those parents had already experienced.
If I was told to deny Christ or watch my children die, what would I do? Could I bear it? Could I cling to Jesus like these amazing Christians did and reassure my children with the words, "I will see you soon in heaven?" Or would I be quick to deny Him, like Peter on the night of His betrayal? Truthfully, I don't know. I fear I am too much like Peter sometimes.
But I do know I can't wait until the moment of my greatest trial and then expect my faith to magically be strong enough. It begins now, day by day, taking up my cross. Seeking to know Him more and follow Him better. Making the prayer of my heart, "More love to thee, O Christ, more love to thee." Only then will I be able to cling to Him when persecution comes.
And here's the reassuring part: Even though I can't do it on my own, "I can do all things through Him who strengthens me" (Philippians 4:13).
I pray we will never, ever face that kind of persecution here in America. But if we do, I pray that God will give me the strength to stand firm no matter the cost.
