Cross of Christ

Nabeel Qureshi was born in California to Pakistani immigrant parents, devout members of the peaceful Ahmadi sect of Islam. His father whispered “Allahu Akbar” into his ear at birth, following a family tradition dating back to Muhammad. Nabeel’s family was loving and tightly knit, entirely centered on Islam. His mother taught him Arabic before English, and by age five, he had read the entire Qur’an in Arabic and memorized many chapters.

His family legacy included generations of Muslim missionaries, and by middle school, Nabeel was adept at challenging Christian theology. Islam gave him “purpose, values, and direction for worship.”

In 2001, while at Old Dominion University, Nabeel met David Wood, a Christian student. Nabeel was surprised that someone so intelligent would read the Bible. Their debates grew into a deep friendship and years-long dialogue. David encouraged Nabeel to examine both Islam and Christianity objectively. “I had been happy with my faith and with my Ahmadi community and did not want to leave it, but I ultimately converted to Christianity after years of dialogue with Wood,” Nabeel recalled. He described his conversion as “the most painful thing [he] ever did” because it cost him most of his friendships and relationships with fellow Muslims.

He wrote, “For the first time, the [Qur’an] seemed utterly irrelevant to my suffering. It felt like a dead book.” In contrast, the words of Jesus in the New Testament “leapt off the page and jump-started my heart.” He realized, “For Muslims, following the gospel is more than a call to prayer. It is a call to die. I knelt at the foot of my bed and gave up my life.”

His conversion deeply wounded his family. He said, “To this day my family is broken by the decision I made, and it is excruciating every time I see the cost I had to pay.” But Nabeel said, “Jesus is the God of redemption. He redeemed my suffering by making me rely upon him for my every moment… To follow him is worth giving up everything.”

The ex-head of Japan's Fukushima Daiichi nuclear plant, Masao Yoshida, 58, died at a Tokyo hospital of esophageal cancer on July 9, 2013.

When the tsunami devastated Japan's Fukushima nuclear power plant on March 11, 2011, Masao Yoshida worked to control the damage caused by the failing reactors. He disobeyed a company order and secretly continued using seawater, a decision that experts say almost certainly prevented a more serious meltdown and has made him an unlikely hero. He chose to place himself in danger, exposing himself to extreme radiation. And his story is just one of many at the plant.

Remembering the disaster, he said "The level of radioactivity on the ground was terrible…but the workers of the plant leaped at the chance to go trying to fix the situation with the reactors…. My colleagues went out there again and again."

Possible Preaching Angle:

What a beautiful picture of sacrificial, Christ-like love.

At first glance, Rolf Klasson, a gray-haired Swede who hobbles around on his walker, looked like an easy target. At least that's what two would-be robbers thought as they accosted him at a cash machine.

One of the thugs waved a knife while the other thug told Klasson to turn over his wallet. They didn't know that their victim was also the former European light-middleweight boxing champ.

Klasson warned them, "This isn't going to go well." When the men scoffed at his warning, he knocked one of them to the floor with a sharp right hook before laying the other out with a left jab. A police officer later said, "They came after the wrong guy."

Possible Preaching Angle:

This is a great little story to open up a sermon on the victory of the cross or spiritual warfare.

The Internet can be a dangerous place, and a new global survey is revealing that billions of people have likely been the target of cybercriminals at some point in time. The survey found that nearly half of all respondents have fallen victim to a cyberattack or scam.

In a poll of 20,000 adults from around the world, 45% reported that their personal data, such as banking or email account information, has been compromised by a hacking attempt or scam.

According to respondents, online scams and phishing attempts have become more sophisticated and successful due to artificial intelligence. Half of respondents (50%) disclosed that they’ve been exposed to a cyberattack at work in the last year. Of those whose personal data has been hacked, 20% reported that a cyberattacker successfully hacked one or more of their personal accounts, including bank or email accounts.

Delving into the layered side-effects of successful hacks and scams, 22% lost money as a result and 30% said they have doubts that their personal information will ever be safe again.

Possible Preaching Angle:

Cross; Easter; Satan; Spiritual Warfare - Cyberattacks can inflict significant financial harm. However, there exists a less visible but even more critical vulnerability that affects every human being. The Bible speaks of Satan as "a roaring lion seeking someone to devour” (1 Pet. 5:8), who orchestrates spiritual attacks against all of humanity. These attacks target not our bank accounts or personal data, but our very souls, seeking to separate us from God's love and purpose for our lives. On the cross, Christ won our victory over Satan (1 Cor. 15:57; Col. 2:13-15). Only through faith in Christ can we find protection and true spiritual security.

In an article for The Atlantic, David Graham wonders, “Who Still Buys Wite-Out, and Why?”:

Christmastime is when the pens in my house get their biggest workout of the year. I seldom write by hand anymore. But the end of the year brings out a slew of opportunities for penmanship: adding notes to holiday cards to old friends, addressing them, and then doing the same with thank-you notes after Christmas. And given how little I write in the other 11 months of the year, that means there are a lot of errors, which in turn spur a new connection with another old friend: Wite-Out.

The sticky, white correction fluid was designed to help workers correct errors they made on typewriters without having to retype documents from the start. But typewriters have disappeared from the modern office, relegated to attics and museums. But correction fluids are not only surviving—they appear to be thriving. It’s a mystery of the digital age.

But today, even printer sales are down, casualties of an era when more and more writing is executed on-screen and never printed or written out at all. Yet correction fluid remains remarkably resilient. As early as 2005, The New York Times pondered the product’s fate with trepidation. Yet somehow, more than (two decades) on, it has kept its ground. Who’s still buying these things? Even as paper sales dip, upmarket stationery is one subsegment that is expected to grow, thanks to a Millennial affection for personalized stationery.

For Millennials…the attraction to Wite-Out is the same as any other handmade or small-batch product: The physical act of covering up a mistake is imperfect but more satisfying than simply hitting backspace. There’s also a poignancy to a (messed up) generation gravitating toward Wite-Out.

You can’t erase the past any more than you can erase a printed typo or a written error—but you can paper it over and pretend it didn’t happen.

Possible Preaching Angle:

Isn’t it a relief to know that God doesn’t cover up our mistakes and sins and “pretend they didn’t happen.” At the cross He permanently and completely removed them from our record. “Though your sins are as scarlet, they shall be white as snow” (Isa. 1:18); “He forgave us all our trespasses, having canceled the debt ascribed to us in the decrees that stood against us. He took it away, nailing it to the cross!” (Col. 2:13-14)

According to a French story, a drowned girl's body was recovered from France's Seine River sometime in the late 1800s. Her body, displayed in a Parisian mortuary in an attempt to identify her, captured the imagination of one of the mortuary's pathologists. So, he had a sculptor take a plaster cast of her face. The beautiful, enigmatic mask—named "L'Inconnue de la Seine" ("The unknown woman of the Seine")—was soon for sale among artists and writers who found it a muse for their work. In fact, no fashionable European living room of the late 1800s was complete without a mask of the Inconnue on the wall.

But her image didn't stop there. And this is where the story gets really interesting: In 1955 Asmund Laerdal saved the life of his drowning young son, grabbing the boy's motionless body from the water just in time and clearing his airways.

Laerdal at that time was a successful Norwegian toy manufacturer, specializing in making children's dolls and model cars from the new generation of soft plastics. When he was approached to make a training aid for the newly-invented technique of CPR, his son's brush with death a few years earlier made him very receptive.

He developed a mannequin which simulates an unconscious patient requiring CPR. Remembering the mask on the wall of his grandparents' house many years earlier, he decided that "The unknown woman of the Seine" would become the face of Resusci Anne. She has a pleasant, attractive face, with the hint of a smile playing on her lips. Her eyes are closed but they look as if they might spring open at any moment.

So, if you're one of the 300 million people who's been trained in CPR, you've almost certainly had your lips pressed to the Inconnue's.

Possible Preaching Angle:

How like God's work of redemption this is: to take the very worst things imaginable—like the horror of death—and make something new that would save countless lives. This is what God did for us on the cross, which we remember each Easter and Lord’s Supper (1 Cor. 11:26). The difference between the cross and the “unknown lady” is that our Lord was raised triumphantly from the grave and we serve a risen Lord (1 Cor. 15:1-58).

The movie Hacksaw Ridge tells the true story of a young man named Desmond Doss. Doss grew up as a follower of Jesus who had strong beliefs about not killing, even in war. So, he became a medic. He was openly harassed for this decision. He even faced a court martial before all charges were dropped.

During the Battle of Okinawa, Doss’ unit was told they would have to join the fight to secure Medea escarpment, or Hacksaw Ridge. Many lives were lost. Doss, however, did not leave as he continued to hear the cry of injured soldiers. Doss sought out the wounded and carried them to safety. Then he would pray, “Lord, help me to find one more!”

Just after daybreak, and fleeing from the enemy, he made it to safety among the U.S. troops at the bottom. He was muddy, sweaty, bloody, scarred, and exhausted. He could barely stand. But for someone who had been in the thick of rescuing the dying all night from the throes of the enemy, what would you expect? To rescue, you have to be willing to get in the muck and mire.

This is what God does. He doesn’t abandon the cry of the dying. This is what makes the Triune God different than all other gods. Jesus came to seek and save the lost. This meant he had to get in the muck and mire with us and our sin.

At approximately 1:30 a.m. on March 26, 2024, a cargo ship leaving the Port of Baltimore struck the (I-695) Francis Scott Key Bridge. This caused a devastating collapse of the bridge.

Completed in 1977, the Francis Scott Key Bridge was a practical, final link to the beltway of roads that circled Baltimore Harbor, a much-needed solution to reduce Harbor Tunnel congestion. But for so many, it was more than that. For decades blue-collar workers crossed the bridge. Teenagers celebrated new driver’s licenses by traversing it. And couples were known to get engaged near it.

For some, it symbolized the working-class communities around it—for others, the city itself. The bridge also served as a reminder of a storied chapter in history: Near Fort McHenry, the bridge is believed by historians to be within 100 yards from where Key was held by the British during the War of 1812. It was here that he witnessed the siege of the Fort in September 1814 and wrote the poem that became the national anthem.

And the Key Bridge was simply a presence in people’s everyday lives. Since the collapse, residents have been processing the loss on many levels, from profound grief for the six workers who died, to concern for the immigrant communities affected by the port’s shutdown, to a sense of emptiness that has cast a pall over their memories.

Possible Preaching Angle:

Bridges have tremendous significance. It’s the way to travel safely from one destination to another. No wonder we invest a bridge with deep meaning. As the Eternal Son of God, Jesus is the ultimate bridge, through his work on the Cross, reconciling God the Father with a sinful humanity.

In an issue of CT magazine, author Jordan Monge shares her journey from atheism to faith in Christ. She writes:

I don’t know when I first became a skeptic. It must have been around age 4, when my mother found me arguing with another child at a birthday party: “But how do you know what the Bible says is true?” By age 11, my atheism was widely known in my middle school and my Christian friends in high school avoided talking to me about religion because they anticipated that I would tear down their poorly constructed arguments. And I did.

Jordan arrived at Harvard in 2008 where she met another student, Joseph Porter, who wrote an essay for Harvard’s Christian journal defending God’s existence. Jordan critiqued the article and began a series of arguments with him. She had never met a Christian who could respond to her most basic questions, such as, “How does one understand the Bible’s contradictions?”

Joseph didn’t take the easy way out by replying “It takes faith.” Instead, he prodded Jordan on how inconsistent she was as an atheist who nonetheless believed in right and wrong as objective, universal categories.

Finding herself defenseless, Jordan took a seminar on metaphysics. By God’s providence her atheist professor assigned a paper by C. S. Lewis that resolved the Euthyphro dilemma, declaring, “God is not merely good, but goodness; goodness is not merely divine, but God.”

A Catholic friend gave her J. Budziszewski’s book Ask Me Anything, which included the Christian teaching that “love is a commitment of the will to the true good of the other person.” The Cross no longer seemed a grotesque symbol of divine sadism, but a remarkable act of love.

At the same time, Jordan had begun to read through the Bible and was confronted by her sin. She writes:

I was painfully arrogant, prone to fits of rage, unforgiving, unwaveringly selfish, and I had passed sexual boundaries that I’d promised I wouldn’t …. Yet I could do nothing to right these wrongs. The Cross looked like the answer to an incurable need. When I read the Crucifixion scene in the Book of John for the first time, I wept.

So, she plunged headlong into devouring books from many perspectives, but nothing compared to the rich tradition of Christian intellect. As she read the works of Augustine, Aquinas, Pascal, and Lewis, she knew that the only reasonable course of action was to believe in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

If I wanted to continue forward in this investigation, I couldn’t let it be just an intellectual journey. Jesus said, “If you hold to my teaching, you are really my disciples. Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free” (John 8:31–32). I could know the truth only if I pursued obedience first.” I then committed my life to Christ by being baptized on Easter Sunday, 2009.

God revealed himself through Scripture, prayer, friendships, and the Christian tradition whenever I pursued him faithfully. I cannot say for certain where the journey ends, but I have committed to follow the way of Christ wherever it may lead. When confronted with the overwhelming body of evidence I encountered, when facing down the living God, it was the only rational course of action.

Editor’s Note: Jordan Monge is a writer, philosopher, and tutor. She is also a regular contributor to the magazine Fare Forward and for Christianity Today.

Daniel Skeel serves on the faculty of UPenn Law School, specializing in bankruptcy law. In recent years he has been increasingly bold in bringing his faith to bear on his scholarship. Much of that witness can be traced to what he sees as the New Testament’s inescapable—and inescapably radical—understanding of debt (and debtors).

Skeel reflects,

There came a point, where I realized that the story of the Gospel, and the idea of the fresh start with bankruptcy, are very closely parallel. The idea is that you’re indebted beyond your ability ever to escape that indebtedness (and) you can’t get out on your own. It’s almost exactly the same trajectory as the idea of who Jesus is from an evangelical perspective. (It) emphasizes that reconciliation with God can come only by embracing Christ as the Savior, not through a believer’s good works.

This sort of language might cause some hearers to balk (how simplistic!), but its pastoral traction cannot be denied. Not among those carrying student loans, not among those with mortgages, to say nothing of those asked to repay a “debt” to society. Debts weigh on people, and the prospect of the clean slate has a gut-level allure and immediacy, whatever your financial situation.

In other words, it’s not an accident that Jesus used so much debt language. It’s not something to be minimized. And not just because it’s timeless, but because it’s profound. What other type of imagery could make the burden of sin—and sin’s forgiveness—more concrete?

On the Cross, Jesus was both our substitute and a representative. Here are two analogies to unpack what that means.

A substitute is someone who takes the place of another person but does not represent that person. For example, a pinch hitter in baseball enters the lineup to bat in the place of another player. He is a substitute for that player, but in no sense represents the other player.

On the other hand, a simple representative acts on behalf of another person, and serves as his spokesman but he’s not a substitute for that person. For example, a baseball player has an agent who represents him in contract negotiations with the team. The representative does not replace the player but merely advocates for him.

These roles can be combined. Here’s an illustration of both.

If you’re a shareholder for the company, and you can’t attend the shareholders meeting, you can sign an agreement authorizing someone else to serve as your proxy at the meeting. That person will vote for you, and because they have been authorized to do so, their votes are your votes. You have voted via proxy at the meeting of shareholders. The proxy is a substitute in that they attend the meeting in our place, but they are also a representative in that they do not vote instead of us, but on our behalf, so that we vote.

In bearing our punishment, Jesus was both our substitute and a representative before God. He was punished in our place and bore the suffering we deserved. But he also represented us before God, so that his punishment was our punishment.

In 1907, the American Thermos Bottle Company launched a marketing campaign to popularize its vacuum-insulated bottles. They succeeded so spectacularly that “thermos” became a household word. The problem was, by the early 1920s, competitors were using the term “thermos” to describe their vacuum-insulated bottles as well. And so began the battle for the trademark, which included multiple lawsuits, changing the name of the business to the American Thermos Products Company, and launching Thermos-branded tents and stoves in an effort to prove that “thermos” was not a generic word for vacuum bottles. But it was too late. In 1963 a court deemed that the term “had entered the public domain beyond recall.”

Thermos is not the only corporate brand to fall victim to its own success. “Escalator,” “laundromat,” and “zipper” all used to be trademarks. Believe it or not, a company called Sealed Air Corporation still holds the rights to “Bubble Wrap,” Wham-O Inc. owns “Hula Hoop,” and Sony is hanging on to “Memory Stick.” Velcro went as far as producing a music video urging us to refer to generic versions of their product as “hook and loop,” but that’s not going to catch on.

Possible Preaching Angle:

Positive spin: Many words in Christianity have also taken on a “life of their own.” We commonly hear phrases like “it’s the gospel truth,” “it is the company’s mission statement,” and it is “their cross to bear.” This can be an aid to preaching, if we are careful to define what the Bible means by these now familiar words.

Negative spin: We must be careful that the gospel, the cross, and our mission not be watered down by the world hijacking biblical words, redefining them, and robbing them of their original unique spiritual meaning.

It’s not clear what Joby Pool was planning for this year’s Easter feast, but if his snack plans were any indication, it would’ve been an epic celebration. That’s because police arrested Pool for stealing a trailer containing 200,000 Cadbury Crème Eggs.

The haul was valued at approximately $37,000, an amount that local police described as “eggs-travagant.” The sweet confectionary treats contain a mixture of white and yellow fondant resembling an egg yolk covered by a chocolate shell, and are always in demand due to their limited availability in the spring.

Police say that Pool broke into an industrial unit in Telford before driving off with the goods in a previously stolen tractor unit. Prosecutor Owen Beale claims the crime had to have been premeditated. He said, “This is clearly an organized criminal matter. You don’t just happen to learn about a trailer with that kind of value being available.”

Possible Preaching Angle:

Cross; Easter; Grace – Easter season reminds us that Jesus came to give, not to take. “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly” (John 10:10).

In the fall of 1937, Ed Keefer was a senior in the school of engineering at the University of Toledo in Ohio. Tall, slender, and bespectacled, Keefer was the president of the calculus club, the vice-president of the engineering club, and a member of the school’s exclusive all-male honor society. He also invented the Cupidoscope.

The electrical device could not have been more perfectly designed to bring campus-wide fame to its creators, Keefer and his less sociable classmate John Hawley. It promised to reveal, with scientific precision, if a couple was truly in love. As the inventors explained to a United Press reporter as news of their innovation spread, the Cupidoscope delivered on its promise “in terms called ‘amorcycles,’ the affection that the college girl has for her boyfriend.”

Built in the school’s physics laboratory, the Cupidoscope was fashioned from an old radio cabinet, a motor spark coil, and an electrical resistor. To test their bond, a man and a woman would grip electrodes on either side of the Cupidoscope and move them toward one another until the woman felt a spark—not of attraction, but of electricity. The higher her tolerance for this mild current, the more of a love signal the meter registered. A needle decorated with hearts purported to show her devotion on a scale that ranged from “No hope” to “See preacher!”

It all sounds like a slightly painful party game—but the Cupidoscope was one experiment in a serious, decades-long quest to quantify love. This undertaking garnered the attention of leading scientists across the United States and in Europe in the early years of the 20th century, and it is memorialized most prominently in the penny arcade mainstay known as the Love Tester.

Possible Preaching Angle:

“How do you measure love?” The Bible gives an answer to this important question: It is measured by the self-sacrifice of the Cross—“By this we know love, that he laid down his life for us, and we ought to lay down our lives for the brothers” (1 John 3:16); “Then you, being rooted and grounded in love, will have power, together with all the saints, to comprehend the length and width and height and depth of the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge” (Eph. 3:17-19).

The United States recorded its one millionth organ transplant in September of 2022, a historic milestone for the medical procedure that has saved thousands of lives. It's unclear which organ was the record one millionth and details about the patient are unknown at this time.

The very first successful organ transplant occurred in 1954 at Brigham and Women's Hospital in Boston. That was when doctors transplanted a kidney from 23-year-old Ronald Herrick into his identical twin brother, Richard, who was suffering from chronic kidney failure. The lead surgeon, Dr. Joseph Murray, received the Nobel Prize in Medicine for his role in the procedure.

Up until the early 1980s, the number of transplants every year remained low. However, success in transplants organs other than kidneys—such as hearts, livers, and pancreases—and the advent of anti-rejection medication led to a rise in transplants. Since then, transplants have become a far more common procedure. In 2021, more than 41,000 transplants occurred, which is the highest number ever recorded.

Sadly, approximately 5,000 people die waiting on transplant lists ever year. And a study published in the Journal of the American Society of Nephrology in October 2020 found that many donor kidneys in the U.S. are unnecessarily discarded. But organ donors and recipients hope that by sharing their stories, they will inspire people will sign up to donate and help reduce those long waiting lists.

Possible Preaching Angle:

1) Heart; New Life - God has also given millions of new hearts (Ezek. 11:19) through the work of the Great Physician. However, just as the article states, many die while waiting for a new organ, so also many die without taking advantage of God’s gracious offer of salvation (“why will you die?” Ezek. 33:11; Luke 13:34). 2) Christ, substitute for humanity – There is joy for the patients receiving a new heart. Yet, the joy is bittersweet because the cost of that new heart was someone's life. For one to live another had to die.

In the opening scene of the 2016 film Collateral Beauty, advertising CEO Howard Inlet explains that his strategy is driven by three things. At the end of the day, (1) we long for love. (2) We wish we had more time. And (3) we fear death. These three things, Howard claims, drive every human act.

But then we see him three years later. His six-year-old daughter has died of cancer. It has destroyed him. In his lament at life, he writes letters to love and time and death. To death he writes: “You’re just pathetic and powerless middle management. You don’t even have the authority to make a simple trade.”

Later, he explains what he meant: “When we realized our daughter was dying, I prayed. Not to God or the universe. But to death. Take me. Leave my daughter.”

Like Howard, Jesus volunteered to make the trade for us. But unlike death in Howard’s mind, Jesus wasn’t middle-management. He was completely in control. He is the Good Shepherd. The Good Shepherd lays down his life for his sheep. Jesus really did die for us.