The Cross and the Arch

Above is the cover from the upcoming issue of the New Yorker. It is poignant. It is well crafted. It is all too true. Not just of St. Louis and our current challenges, but true all across the nation. When I first saw it posted on Twitter, I enlarge the picture and stared at it for a few seconds (which in Twitter-time is the equivalent to hours). I appreciated it and I was saddened by its accuracy.

Below is a revised version of the picture I saw the next day. I reacted similarly to it.

When viewing this image, there are a couple of possible reactions.

One is the view the picture and want to dismiss it as trite and overly simplistic. I think this is false.

The cross of Jesus Christ isn’t a mere symbol of religious devotion or Polyanna, kum-ba-yah optimism. The cross is an instrument of death. It is a tool of capital punishment. It is an artifact of the actual, historical killing of Jesus of Nazareth.

The Cross isn’t weak or trite, it is costly. Specifically the cost of death and shed blood.

The Cross, in its brutality, in its savagery, in its torturous death-bearing, is about much more than convenient “solutions” and upbeat worship songs. It’s about much more than man being brought close to God (though this is essential!). It’s even about much more than the fact that, as Tim Keller puts it, I’m far worse than I’d ever imagined and far more loved than I ever dared hoped.

The Cross is about the tearing down of walls. The tearing down of the wall of separation between man and God. The tearing down of the wall of our guilty status before a righteous God. The tearing down of the wall of hurt and pain and brokenness from our past. And the tearing down of the walls between ethnic and racial groups.

Hear Paul in Ephesians 2:11-22:

Therefore remember that at one time you Gentiles in the flesh, called “the uncircumcision” by what is called the circumcision, which is made in the flesh by hands—remember that you were at that time separated from Christ, alienated from the commonwealth of Israel and strangers to the covenants of promise, having no hope and without God in the world. But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ. For He himself is our peace, who has made us both one and has broken down in his flesh the dividing wall of hostility by abolishing the law of commandments expressed in ordinances, that He might create in himself one new man in place of the two, so making peace, and might reconcile us both to God in one body through the cross, thereby killing the hostility. And he came and preached peace to you who were far off and peace to those who were near. For through him we both have access in one Spirit to the Father. So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God, built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Christ Jesus himself being the cornerstone, in whom the whole structure, being joined together, grows into a holy temple in the Lord. In him you also are being built together into a dwelling place for God by the Spirit.

Without launching into a full exegesis that would fill dozens (hundreds?) of pages, I can say this, the Cross is about healing ethic and racial divides.

Is that all it is about? No.

But that is exactly and primarily what the above text is talking about. Two groups of people. Separated ethnically, culturally, religiously, and socially being brought together under the headship of and by the blood of Jesus Christ to become one, unified people.

A humanity that strives together. That mourns together. That prays together. That worships together. That considers the other better than oneself. That sacrifices for one another. That listens to one another.

The Cross is the answer. The costly Cross where Jesus died so that the dividing wall of hostility would be torn down.

But there’s one other way this image could be interpreted. Another way to interpret it is indeed simplistic. Too simplistic. It looks at the bridge of the Cross and it relates, “Yes! Jesus is the answer. Now let’s host a joint worship service with a church that doesn’t look like ours. Let’s get lunch with someone of another race once a month and pursue genuine friendship. Let’s buy Lecrae’s latest album.”

And you should do ALL of those things. All of them. Seriously, go do them!

But, as you do them, don’t believe that will “fix” it. In Divided By Faith, a book I have discussed extensively here, the authors refer to a belief many Christians cite that the authors call “the miracle motif”, which simply is that if everyone became a Christian, all racial and ethnic problems would cease.

Once again, to limit this to paragraphs rather than dozens (hundreds?) of pages, I will only touch on the main points here, but personal relationships and church fellowships won’t erase the problem. The problem didn’t develop overnight, nor will it be healed overnight.

There are hundreds of years of history to reckon with first. There is the reality of systemic injustice to be wrestled with and ultimately deconstructed. There is the fact that the relationships and friendships I recommended above are really, really hard.

The solution isn’t just around the corner, but it is present with us. Jesus Christ cares about injustice. Jesus Christ cares about tension. Jesus Christ cares about division.

And He died to heal it.