The boy lies sprawled on the couch, home from school with a fever and throat infection. He isn’t asking for screens yet – only because he’s fully immersed in his Rubik’s cube, having recently cracked the “code” for it.

He looks at me through tired eyes, determined to explain the algorithm. I nod along, half-listening – a useful skill I’ve mastered over the last almost-12 years of parenting.

“First, you have to make a white cross at the top,” he says.

My ears perk up. “Wait, tell me again, you need to do the cross first and then the rest follows?” I ask.

“Yeah,” he explains the steps to his mama who somehow can’t keep pace with his flurry of words.

It dawns on me that the almost 12-year-old with the Rubik’s cube speaks truth.

The jumble of colors comes together, as it’s supposed to, when you start with the cross.

We’re meant to start with the Cross.

When we orient every tiny square of our lives to the Cross, we live as we’re designed to live.

Yet instead, we charge at life with curious confidence in our own problem-solving abilities. We twist that cube determinedly, biting our lower lip with concentration, giving it another shot and then another. We pride ourselves on our self-reliance, on our get-it-doneness.

In our search for a sense of identity, we look within ourselves. We scavenge for answers that we assume must be buried somewhere deep inside of us.

In our yearning for purpose, we work excessively hard, fill up the empty spaces, create enough noise to drown out the nagging self-doubt and run on the performance treadmill till we’re too tired to think.

In our grasping for a sense of significance, we are determined to prove that we can solve the darn Rubik’s cube all by ourselves. We Instagram pictures of completed Rubik’s cubes. We gather followers and likes. We tell ourselves that we matter and hold up our works as evidence.

We reason that, sure, the Cross can be a convenient add-on. A guarantee for a spot in eternity. A pretty pendant. Possibly wall-décor if it fits in the nook. But to start with the Cross? To orient every little aspect of our lives to the Cross?

We shrug off the truth like it’s a mere suggestion.

But the Cross is at the core of the believer’s life.

When we interpret our lives in the light of the Cross of Calvary, we find our identity as children of God, we discover our purpose to glorify God and we understand our significance in what Christ has done for us rather than what we “accomplish” for Him.

The Cross brings relationship between us (seemingly self-sufficient, solution-chasing problem-solvers) and God (the only Answer)

The Cross brings flawed and broken people into the family of God.

The Cross brings wholeness – we get to see ourselves the way God sees us: healed, redeemed, forgiven, loved, complete.

John Piper explains the centrality of the Cross in these words:  “For redeemed sinners, every good thing — indeed every bad thing that God turns for good — was obtained for us by the cross of Christ. Apart from the death of Christ, sinners get nothing but judgment. Apart from the cross of Christ, there is only condemnation. Therefore everything that you enjoy in Christ — as a Christian, as a person who trusts Christ — is owing to the death of Christ. And all your rejoicing in all things should, therefore, be a rejoicing in the cross where all your blessings were purchased for you at the cost of the death of the Son of God, Jesus Christ.”

This Christmas, as we arrange our Nativity sets and think about the little crib that held the swaddled Christ child, let’s also dwell on the Cross. His quiet invasion into History wouldn’t be complete without His perfect sacrifice on Calvary.

This Christmas, as with every day, let’s start with the Cross.

 

Photo by NeONBRAND on Unsplash