The cross of Christ is reproduced daily in the heart of his disciples. This is what discipleship means, it is the experience that defines Christian discipleship. Any experience less than this is a deception and such deception has sadly become common in Christianity.

Because the cross of Christ within the heart is rare today, the power of the resurrection is also rare. And the consequent power of influence through a daily dying with Christ is equally rare. Hence the labored, never-ending discussions about plans and methods while the deeper need for crucified selves goes wanting.

Pentecost showed us that the Man is the method. When the heart is full of Christ and him crucified, when the crucified Christ becomes the "image of God" in a soul, then the powerful witness of a a resurrected life is revealed. This is what it means for Jesus to be lifted up, drawing all men unto himself.

Every aspect of Jesus' historical crucifixion is to be reproduced in the resisting, alienated human heart. Conformation to the cross is not an ideal to be reached but a reality to be experienced and lived on a daily basis. The cross defines what it means to be a Christian. We see at Calvary that to be rightly identified as a Christian one is seen baring with the sin of others, enduring shameful humiliation for their sake. We see one who suffers in silence, a silence that speaks without boasting or self-justification.

There is more than enough room for humanity at Calvary, but not a cell of space for vanity. All penitents are welcome at the cross but the casual onlooker will only despise it, feeling the condemnation that comes to those who attend merely to squabble over the blessings of a robe without seam.

Only two classes of people exist at the cross of Christ. One refuses to repent. Instead they offer Jesus the sour wine of their accusations and doubts. They curse him in their self-appointed suffering, demanding he deliver them from the justice they have never truly acknowledged in their heart. The others are penitents who, finding themselves in the presence of the prince of sufferers, can only see their own sinful rejection of suffering. Reflecting on who they are next to his crucified form they realize in a moment that their whole life has been tainted by selfishness. No imagined good deeds are offered to appease him. Hope in the efficacious blood pouring from the wounds they made are their only refuge.

Such scenes take place everyday yet seldom known to the soul. Most recognize Calvary merely as a parade of virtue, a pompous, self-indulging Easter event; few see and meet the cross in the shadows of their Roman heart. Who will acknowledge their murmured complaints, their wagging tongues wet with the gossip, their coveting greed, their ghoulishly self-defensive life? Who feel in their hands the hammer and nail of their disappointment with God?