It's been said that crosses are ladders that lead to heaven. For centuries, the faithful have been called to personally bear their burden in the shadow cast so passionately from the salvation tree atop the hill of Calvary. Even before that fateful Friday, Jesus had warned his followers: "If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me." These sharp words spoken by the Savior are not optional for believers. The command is expected to be dutifully obeyed. Some do so joyfully, others not so much.
As Franklin lay asleep on the hard, wooden pew, the true sentiment behind the passage in Matthew became vividly engrossed in his consciousness. He saw old Pastor Thomas vehemently spewing forth Christ's message from his oversized Bible: "For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it." In his always riveting manner, Pastor Thomas' stern blue gaze found its mark, blasting straight into Franklin's preadolescent eyes.
"What good is it for a man if he gains the whole world, yet forfeits his soul?" he bellowed. "Or what can a man give in exchange for his soul?"
Franklin clutched his mother's hand and leaned his head up against her comforting shoulder.
"For the Son of Man is going to come in his Father's glory with his angels!" exclaimed the raging pastor, his right index finger pointing high above his head, "and he will reward each person according to what he has done!"
Franklin knew he was doomed. "Mama, save me!" he cried.
Gracie looked helplessly at her son. "I can't," she mouthed softly. Franklin noticed her eyes held little lament. In fact, they appeared almost joyful.
Franklin was confused. He couldn't understand how his mother could find glee in his dreadful circumstance. Didn't she realize her boy was headed straight for hell? Where was her heart? Where was her love? He dropped his face into his hands and started to sob.
As the desperate drama reached its peak, Gracie exhibited the ultimate act of a mother's love. She placed her hand under Franklin's chin. She kissed his forehead. She turned his head and directed his eyes beyond the Pastor's dooming glare. She re-aimed his anguish toward the symbol of salvation fastened firmly to the back wall of the church.
"Look at it dear," Gracie said, her smile beaming with tender love. "That is your only hope. The cross. Place all your fear upon the cross. Comfort is found there, only there."
As he looked up, he felt warmth. The kind of warmth you experience when the shivers of a bitterly cold night are abruptly calmed by diving under a soft quilted blanket in front of a crackling fireplace. Franklin sensed all of his trepidation pass away when he beheld the glorious cross. Mother was right, like always.
