A Little Girl Lost

Archive for the ‘cross’ Category

My Cross


I found an old jewelry box at a yard sale years ago. It lay open with baubles and chains draped over it like a pirate’s treasure chest. While looking through the booty I spotted a shining gold cross. I gently untangled its dark chain and found the price tag. It read “$1.50”. I was elated as I made my purchase.
My joy dissipated on Sunday. I thought, “I’m not good enough to wear this beautiful cross.” Guilt and fear weighed heavy on my mind and the cross lay in my jewelry box.
I went on a Christian retreat three years later where I finally accepted God’s love and forgiveness for this sin-filled, moth-eaten child of God.
I began wearing my cross on Sundays. For eight months, I experienced a freedom that turned my sorrows into joy. I testified at every opportunity no matter where I was.
After my accident, I fell back into feeling unworthy. Paralysis left my body without sensation and uncontrollable. Depression wrapped its tentacles around my heart and soul choking life out of me. 
I came to myself through the immovable love and encouragement of my family and close friends. From then on, I wore that cross daily to remind me that Christ died for me.
I became ill a few years ago and stopped wearing my jewelry, as I didn’t get out of bed much.
One day I wanted to wear my cross. My caregiver and I couldn’t find it. I said, “Well, I hope whoever has it is blessed by it.
That cross can’t be replaced but no one can steal my faith. The empty cross is proof that Jesus lives and my faith is strengthened each time I see one.
In Christ,
Berta
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Taking Up My Cross


For ten or fifteen years after my injury, I still woke up each day and attempted to turn over. Then I would remember, “Oh. I’m paralyzed.” I hated remembering. Depression set in. I would not accept this broken body.

Yet, I continued to live. Angry, I lashed out at my family. Embarrassed, I wanted to stay home. I feigned sleep to avoid conversations.
It took many years for me to grow into this new state of being. Physical therapy and strength training helped me adjust.
It took many more years for me to believe I could be useful to God. Love and Christian encouragement taught me to trust God.
I no longer dread waking up. I have adjusted my mind’s eye to see my body as whole and healed. My body is God’s temple. Its shape and physical ability do not matter. What is important is my faith and willingness to let God speak through me.
Crucified with Him that day more than 2,000 years ago, I no longer live. But Christ lives in me. He died for me. His blood covers all my sin. He delivered me from sin and death. I am forgiven.
What cross am I picking up each day? Christian ministry.
I live as a child of God in active ministry with you. I write and you read my devotions. We call, email, text and talk. We encourage and pray for each other. I tell people about my Savior where ever I go.
I pray that people will see and hear Jesus in me each day and they would know I belong to God.
If anyone wishes to come after Me, let him . . . take up his cross (Matthew 16:24)
In Christ,
Berta

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