When I survey the wondrous cross on which the Prince of Glory died. From the back of the field several persons began making their way to the stage. They were carrying something...it was a cross. As they made their way through the crowd, the decibel level of singing increased dramatically, My richest gain I count but loss and pour contempt on all my pride. As the cross came closer to the stage, people spontaneously left the crowd and began to follow in a kind of heavenly procession. The heavenly Martyrs were standing now, shouting, RUN, and others from the far reaches of the field began running with reckless abandon, pursuing the cross. See from his head, his hands his feet; sorrow and blood flow mingling down. Singing was not enough. Tears were inadequate. Prayers could not contain it. Did ever such love and sorrow meet or thorns compose so rich a crown. Calvary was emerging before our very eyes and the response was extravagant. Were the whole realm of nature mine, that were an offering far too small. Women and men threw themselves at the foot of that cross, face to the ground. Others pushed and pressed their way through the crowd just to touch it, as though it were the hem of his robe. Pride was shed like a dirty garment. Dignity was discarded. For a moment we resolved to know nothing but Jesus Christ and him crucified. Love so amazing so Divine demands my soul, my life my all.

For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God. (1 Corinthians 1:18). And what is the message of the cross? Attend your own funeral...while there is still time...die and you will live...lose and you will gain (Matthew 16:25)...be the obscure seed that goes into the ground that a harvest might come forth (John 12:24)...be crucified with Christ and prepare for revolution. (Galatians 2:20). More of Jesus...less of you...(John 3:30)

Oh the Wonderful Cross. Oh the Wonderful Cross. All who gather here by grace draw near and bless your name.

The cross radically transforms our worship from emotional high to willful abandon. It is our invitation to run while the door is still open. Because of the cross, worship is not a straining toward heaven but an entry into it; not a remembrance of Calvary—but a participation therein. Worship at its best is not an event but an encounter between heaven and earth, where beauty transforms shame, and glory transcends pain, all because of the cross.

Love so amazing, so Divine, demands my soul, my life my all.