The Cross Is a Winnowing Fan

The Cross is the Lever that God uses to move the world

The death of the innocent is never a neutral event. The worst death imaginable inflicted upon the most innocent among us is designed to elicit a response. So,

it was for the death of Christ. The cross is the lever chosen by God to move the world either towards Him or away from Him. A few of the hardened Roman soldiers, accustomed to brutality and numbed by the sheer volume of crucifixions they had witnessed, were touched by the dignity with which the carpenter from Nazareth bore His death. So much so that the pagan Centurion proclaimed, “Surely this man was the Son of God.”

     Throughout the Old Testament, we find much fence sitting, a pervasive tendency to try to serve both God and Satan. Joshua and Elijah bemoaned the tendency for the people of Israel to try to serve both the true God of their ancestors and the false gods of their neighbors. But this is a human tendency, not confined to the people of long ago. The Book of Revelation reminds us of the fate of those who waffle, the lukewarm, those who try to serve both God and mammon, those who refuse to choose, who are reluctant to fully commit to either one or the other. But choose we must and the cross stimulates us, prods us really, to choose wisely.

     The cross is a winnowing fan, a tool used in ancient times to separate the wheat from the chaff. The winnowing fan was used to toss the harvest grain into the air so that the husks would be blown away by the wind and the kernels of wheat could be gathered. The winnowing fan separated the two groups gathered there at the foot of the cross that day, those that loved Christ and suffered with Him as they watched His death: Mary, John and the Magdalene, the few huddled at the foot of the cross. But there were those who had come to jeer, to insult and to gloat during His final moments. The Holy Spirit, like a strong driving wind separated the husks from the kernels that were gathered there that day and the same Holy Spirit sifts those who have been gathering ever since, allowing them to be ground and milled into flour and then into bread, and molded into ‘other Christs’ who would carry their crosses and suffer with Him through the centuries to sustain their weakened brothers with the bread that falls ever new from heaven.

     The cross is also a carpenter's square that is being used to build the Kingdom of God here on earth. The world had been tilted out of balance by the sin of Adam and Eve. And every act of disobedience since then has thrown the world ever further out of alignment with the Divine Will. Now, centuries and centuries later, the world bears little resemblance to the garden where it all began. Christ’s death on the cross is the perfect act of love. He gave His life not for what He did, but for what we did. His death was an act of pure love but hidden in plain sight. Dying in front of all and yet still hidden from the many who refuse to see because their stony hearts somehow block their vision. The problem is with their hearts and not their eyes. And also, with their ears because they refuse to hear the cry of the innocent victim who calls for all to come to Him.

     Christ was rejected by His own nation, denied by his friends, deserted by His disciples, betrayed by Judas, stripped of His reputation and His garments. He died in the Temple City of Jerusalem at the holy season of Passover. It was the absolute worst death imaginable. It is difficult to imagine a worse death. He was rejected, dishonored, disgraced, spat upon and deprived of everything we humans hold dear: His reputation, gone, His friends gone, His modesty, violated. No warmth, no encouragement, no support, no comfort, with nothing left to Him but the few gathered at His feet and the coarse wood, the iron nails and a crown that pierced His scalp. And yet, all future good deeds will be compared to that one. His seemingly meaningless death was completed that afternoon outside the walls of Jerusalem. He died at that particular darkened moment, but His death was measured out for all time and measures still. It was a defeat in every apparent sense, but it was the ultimate victory to those who believe.

     The cross is also a wine press where the body of the Christ was squeezed with such intensity that blood emerged even from His sweat. His divine blood oozed out of every pore upon a fallen world, a world too blind to recognize the healing balm that falls from heaven like rain. Just as the sun rises on the just and the unjust, so too is the blood of Christ poured out for all. His blood flows upon those gathered at the foot of the cross, those who implore God’s mercy with their silent prayers, but His blood is also poured out for those who shed it.  Yes, His sinless blood falls upon those who insult and revile Him. He, the spotless victim, prays for them, hoping that some will be moved. The blood and water which flowed from His side was the perfect mixture of the good wine, the best wine that He saved for the last.

The cross is also a fiery beacon, a column of light shining for all on the storm-tossed seas of this world. His light, brighter than the sun, shining in this darkened world, is a light for all: both those near and those far off, those living at the time, those long dead and those not yet born; calling all to look upon the One that they have lifted up and pierced. His is a light that calls silently but insistently that this is the way, the way of love. He is the truth and He shows the truth of what sin does to the God who loves. His is the life that calls us to die to self and live for Him, to live for God finally, and for others. Yes, the path that leads to life requires a death, a death to the lower desires of our own disordered imagining and a rising to the higher life that leads to life.

     But this fiery sign of the cross is also a flaming sword that repels all who refuse to pick up their cross and follow. They will lose their life all those who try to cling to their own petty desires and refuse to follow the narrow way. Jesus wants us all with Him, but He warns us all with His last few breaths that we can follow Him to the Father, only if we choose the better part. There we will find rest, not here, not yet, not now.  Because now is the time for plowing. The cross is the yoke that binds us to Jesus and that allows us to plow, to plant and to turn the hardened ground of our stony hearts so that we may bring forth 30 or 60 or a hundred-fold. Plowing our hearts will certainly hurt but leaving them unbroken will hurt far more, and for all eternity.

     The cross is also the loom with which we weave the wedding garment that will allow us to enter into the feast and celebrate joyfully forever at the marriage banquet of the lamb of God. We must weave skillfully and never drop a stitch, never miss a chance to offer up whatever may come. The disappointments and the frustrations of this life, the pain and sufferings that come to all can bear great fruit when united with the suffering of Christ on the cross and can aid in the salvation of those dear to us, and even dearer to Him.

     The cross is a consuming fire that will burn all, whether we approach or flee. We will burn either with love and gratitude for what He has done or with remorse and regret for what we have done or failed to do. But none will remain neutral when faced with the intense flame of the greatest love imaginable.

     The cross is also the pool of Siloam in which we are submerged, one after another, each in proper order. But the water for this pool is stirred from within. We are immersed for the healing of all that afflicts us, all that leaves us blind, deaf, and lame. There is no need for us to hurry to gain entry to the pool. Do not worry that someone will enter first. We will be immersed at the proper time, even if it is at the last hour, late in the day, even if it happens with our last breath, like the good thief. There is healing enough for all, because the blood that flows, the blood shed that afternoon in an outpouring of love that can never be equaled is like the bread and oil of the widow’s jar that will never run dry until the rain of the Lord’s salvation has come.