The cross which my Lord bids me take up and carry may
assume different shapes.
I may have to content myself with a lowly and
narrow sphere, when I feel that I have capacities for much higher work.
I
may have to go on cultivating year after year, a field which seems to
yield me no harvests whatsoever.
I may be bidden to cherish kind and
loving thoughts about someone who has wronged me...
Be bidden speak to him
tenderly, and take his part against all who oppose him...
And crown him
with sympathy and succor.
I may have to confess my Master amongst those
who do not wish to be reminded of Him and His claims.
I may be called to
"move among my race, and show a glorious morning face," when my heart
is breaking.
There are many crosses, and every one of
them is sore and heavy.
None of them is likely to be sought out by me
of my own accord.
But never is Jesus so near me as when I lift my cross...
And lay it submissively on my shoulder...
And give it the welcome of a
patient and unmurmuring spirit.
He draws close, to
ripen my wisdom...
To deepen my peace...
To increase my courage...
To increase my power to be of use to others, through the very experience which is so
grievous and distressing...
And then...as I read on the seal of one of
those Scottish Covenanters whom Claverhouse imprisoned on the lonely
Bass, with the sea surging and sobbing round--I grow under the
load.
~Alexander Smellie
Use your cross as a crutch to help you on, and not as a stumblingblock to cast you down.
You may others from sadness to gladness beguile,
If you carry your cross with a smile.
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