I can see the shadow of the cross in that old man’s face, who sits digging through the garbage
and in the filthy stench, of that ragged child playing in the sewage
and it surely falls on that teenager with the gun in his hand, as he pauses…
then pulls the trigger and the one friend he had…he loses…
The shadow of the cross falls upon us all and it casts the presence of Christ upon us
in pain and sorrow for all that we must go through, in this world
and for the hell we must endure to reach tomorrow.
We can barely remember the Garden before the fall…before the apple rotted
and spoiled the innocence of our lives…just as the serpent called.
The shadow of the cross reaches across time and it covers us and hides our shame in every age
standing there silently among the rage and slime and the blood
that we allowed to flow on every single history page in the book of life
dripping into the Pit of Darkness where the Evil lives.
The shadow of the cross is the only real comfort we have.
The only true thing that we can cling to...in this world of confusion and lust.
Its purpose is the comfort it gives. Its meaning is the love we feel.
In its shadow we can see the light and not be afraid to step into it.
In its shadow we can see ourselves and know that even though we’ve gone too far
it's still all right. The price has been met…we still have Heaven left.
Standing in the shadow of the cross… We have won the war.