The magnitude of what God has done for us in Jesus
The first week of term 2, although a stop start week, was probably the most
important week of our year. We celebrated the fact that Jesus is Alive and
ANZAC day. As many reflected on the importance of these two events we also
had sadness. Firstly with so many Christians killed in Sri Lanka and then a
completely different sadness. The sadness here I refer to is the Booing that
took place at the ANZAC ceremony after the match had finished. Yes, no one
was killed at this event but what does the Booing say about us as a society?
Surely we are better than this? ANZAC day is a day of mourning. We mourn
for many reasons. We mourn the people of Christchurch. We mourn the
people of Colombo. We mourn the fact wars still exist.
As the Booing continued I reflected on what we say to our students within the
Federation. We say, that Booing Has NO place in our School.
We are a people and community who celebrate the joys of others. We also
grieve with those who are suffering.
We are a people who trust that the God who created us and loves us will hold
us up through this moment of darkness so that the darkness does not break
our hearts.
I hope that you can find the time to read these two well written reflections on
the meaning of the Cross.
Edward Dooley (Mission and Faith Leader)

When you reflect upon Jesus Christ hanging on the cross of shame, you
understand the depth and weight of human sin. How do we measure the size
of a fire? By the number of firefighters and fire engines sent to fight against it.
How do we measure the seriousness of a medical condition? By the amount of
risk the doctors take in prescribing dangerous antibiotics or surgical
procedures. How do we measure the gravity of sin and the incomparable
vastness of God's love for us? By looking at the magnitude of what God has
done for us in Jesus, who became like a common criminal for our sake and in
our place.

--Fleming Rutledge
Fleming Rutledge is an American Episcopal priest, and now an author,
theologian and preacher. Ordained to the diaconate in 1975, she was one of
the first women to be ordained to the priesthood of the Episcopal Church.

The real crosses of our lives

Every difficult thing in life is not a cross. A lot of things are difficult in life but
that does not make them crosses. A cross is that which we do not choose and
do not want. It is outside the normal order of life. It is what confounds our
plans or disturbs our dreams. It is anything that wrenches life away from our
plans or hopes in a truncated or destructive or pitiable way. It is where we
would not go but cannot avoid.
 
Jesus’ cross was not some kind of petty inconvenience. It was a distortion of a
great life and even greater plans and in great proportions. It was the cutting off
of life in the very thick of it. It was the cost to be paid for confronting the
authorities of both synagogue and state.
Nor are the real crosses of our lives minor irritations or teasing tests of our
faith in God. The cross is not an exercise in temporary discomfort. It is life-
changing.
 
The cross brings with it a sense of finality, the judgment of forever. There is no
going back from here. Jesus is nailed to a cross from which there is no return.
The glory days are over. The followers are scattered. The entire enterprise
seems lost. It is the bleak and final moments of the dream. There is no way
whatsoever to plumb the depths of such depression in the human soul.
 
The call of this moment, the eleventh Station of the Cross, is the call to faith, to
believe that a loving God is also present in darkness so deep that nothing can
possibly assuage it. It is the call to faith in the God of Timelessness in a time of
total defeat. It is trust that the God who created us and loves us will hold us up
through this moment so that the darkness does not break our hearts.

 
The question with which the eleventh station confronts us is whether or not
we are spending our lives, our hopes, our emotions, on something great
enough to make the pain of losing them worthwhile. The great task of the
spiritual life is to choose to spend it on something big enough to risk the pain
of its loss.
 
There is a great freedom that comes when the cross we refuse to accept
becomes the cross we embrace. When we give up the struggle against life, life
begins to lighten in us. We become indestructible. Nothing more can hurt us
now. We learn to live in ways we never imagined possible and find ourselves
made new. Being handicapped is not a death knell anymore. Being alone is not
a burden now; it is an opportunity to start over again. Being blocked by one
impasse in life, we discover whole new ways of being alive. We find new life in
the small deaths of the day. We sink into the ultimate liberation. Now there is
nothing in life but the freedom of choosing again.
 
—from The Way of the Cross: A Path to New Life (Orbis Books) by Joan
Chittister