"Lift High the Cross: Our Salvation and Our Call"

🕇 The 13th Sunday after Trinity -- 1928 BCP -- September 7th, 2025

Preached at St. Barnabas Anglican Church, Bellville, TX

Fr. Mike Keppler, Rector

Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be always acceptable in thy sight, O Lord, my strength and my redeemer. And Lord, give us eyes to see and hear, ears to hear, so we can learn your word together as a family. And we offer you all the praise and honor and glory for it, in Jesus' holy name, Amen.

Well, good morning again, encouragers. You know, I had a totally different sermon that I was going to preach today, but in light of what has happened this past week, I redid it because I felt like some of us, our hearts may be heavy.

You know, the events that happened this past week brought us face to face with the brokenness of our world. The shocking murder of Irena Zarutska in Charlotte, the political assassination of Charlie Kirk in Utah. Yet another school shooting that has left families devastated. And then to top it all off, we had the 24th anniversary of September 11, those attacks that forever changed our nation and continues to affect many.

And as we gather today on this feast of the exaltation of the Holy Cross, we might wonder, what comfort can we find in the wake of such violence and loss? What hope can sustain us when the darkness seems so pervasive? And where is God in the face of such suffering?

The collect for this feast day speaks to our present moment with to me a particular power.
It says, almighty God, whose son, our savior Jesus Christ, was lifted high upon the cross that he might draw the whole world unto himself. Mercifully grant that we who glory in the mystery of our redemption may have grace to take up our cross and follow him. You know these words, we can find both comfort and challenge. First, we recognize the assurance that Christ draws all people to himself through the cross. And secondly, we hear the call to follow him in the way of self giving love.

Our hymn we just sang, our sermon hymn, was Lift High the Cross. And in it we are reminded that in our darkest hours we look to Christ crucified, the fullest revelation of God's love for a broken world. We don't look to human wisdom or strength to fix anything. It's only through Christ Jesus.

In our Old Testament lesson today from the Book of numbers, chapter 21, verses 4 through 9, that speaks powerfully to our current moment. The Israelites find themselves in a wilderness full of discouragement and fear, not unlike the wilderness many of us may feel as we're traversing today. The news cycle brings us one poisonous bite after another. Violence, division, hatred. These are the serpents that strike at our collective soul, injecting venom of despair and cynicism.

When I heard about the assassination of Charlie Kirk, I felt that poisonous bite of fear, the sense that we're living in an increasingly dangerous time where disagreement can lead to deadly violence. When I read about Ms. Zarutska, the young immigrant from Ukraine murdered while simply going about her day, I felt the sting of a senseless tragedy.

But notice what God provides in our Old Testament lesson. In this passage, he doesn't remove the serpents, but instead he provides a means of healing from their bite. Moses lifts up the bronze serpent, and those who look upon it are saved. When raised up, the image of what caused their suffering becomes the source of their salvation.

Our Lord Jesus draws the connection to Himself explicitly. In John 3, verses 14 and 15, he says, and as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of Man be lifted up. That whosoever believeth in him should not perish but have eternal life.

When we're bitten by the serpents of tragedy, violence, and hatred, where do we look for healing? We look to Christ, lifted high upon the cross, the very place where suffering and evil did their worst, yet could not overcome divine love. The cross doesn't deny the reality of pain. It transforms it.

So if you would, if you feel compelled to do so, on page 699 of your Pew Bible, I want to read Philippians in chapter two, verses five to 11. That's 699, and it's about halfway down the right hand column should you wish to follow along. 699.

St. Paul writes, Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus, who, being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God, but made himself of no reputation, and took upon him the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of men and being found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross, wherefore God hath highly exalted him, and given him a name which is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow of things in heaven and things in earth, and things under the earth and that every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.

What strikes me here, especially in retrospect of recent events, is the stark contrast between the way of Christ and the way of the world. The world in which we live often operates by the logic of power and domination, violence, a logic that says, through violence I will achieve my ends. But Christ Jesus shows us another way, the way of self giving love.

The Scripture says he humbled himself and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross. The Son of God did not cling to his divinity, but emptied himself, taking the form of a servant. And he didn't meet violence with greater violence, but with sacrificial love. It's a mystery that's at the heart of our faith. The apparent defeat of Christ crucified becomes his greatest victory.

Paul says, wherefore God hath highly exalted him. The cross, an instrument of shame and torture, becomes the throne from which Christ reigns. Death, the enemy's ultimate weapon, becomes the doorway to eternal life. So for those of us who are carrying a heavy burden, burdens of maybe grief, fear or anxiety, the cross offers us presence. The God who knows suffering from the inside, who has tasted the bitterness of death, is present with us in our pain. And the pattern of the cross, descent followed by ascent, death followed by resurrection, becomes the pattern of hope for all who trust in him.

Lastly, let's read from St. John, chapter 12:31-36, and it can be found on page 639 of your Pew Bible if you wish to follow along. That's 639.

Jesus says, now is the judgment of this world. Now shall the prince of this world be cast out. And if I. And I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all men unto me. This he said, signifying what death he should die.
The people answered him. We have heard out of the law that Christ abideth forever. And how sayest thou, they asked him, The Son of man must be lifted up. Who is this Son of Man? Then? Jesus said unto them, yet a little while is the light with you. Walk while ye have the light, lest darkness come upon you. For he that walketh in darkness knoweth not whither he goeth. While ye have light, believe in the light, that ye may be the children of light.

You know, in the face of this past week's violence, this darkness, these words of our Lord offer particular comfort, at least for me. I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all men unto me. The cross exerts a spiritual gravity, if you will. It's an invisible magnetic force that draws humanity toward divine love. Even as we witness acts that seem to pull our world toward hatred and chaos, the cross draws us toward healing and reconciliation.

I'm reminded of how in the aftermath of 9 11, people were drawn together in unprecedented ways. Strangers helping strangers, communities rallying around, first responders, churches opening their doors for prayer and comfort. And here in Texas after the horrific flood in Kerrville just a few months ago, we saw similar movements of compassion and solidarity. The darkness was real, but it did not overcome the light.

And so it is with the tragedies of this past week. Already we see people being drawn together in prayer for the victims and their families.
Already we hear calls for healing across political and social divides. Already the light shines in the darkness.

Jesus concludes this passage with an urgent invitation for while you have light, believe in the light that ye may be the children of light in times of darkness. And at any time, really, we have a choice. We can surrender to fear, hatred and despair, walking in darkness, not knowing where we're going. Or we can believe in the light revealed on the cross, the light of divine love that no darkness can overcome, and become children of that light.

My friends, after a week marked by tragedy, on this holy cross day, what does it mean for us as the encouragers to, as our hymn said, lift high the cross?

It means we acknowledge our need for healing. First of all, like the Israelites bitten by the serpents, we recognize that we have been wounded by the evil in our world. The violence we've witnessed this past week, the lingering trauma of events like 9 11, the personal losses many of us carry. These are real wounds that need real healing.

We begin by bringing these wounds to the foot of the cross, looking up to the one who was lifted up for our salvation.
The cross doesn't ask us to pretend that we're not wounded. It invites us to bring our wounds to the wounded healer.

To lift high the cross means we. We embrace the way of Christ in a world prone to violence. And St. Paul urges us to have the same mind as Christ Jesus, the mind of humility, service and self giving love.

In a culture increasingly marked by the dehumanization of people through violent means, we are called to a different way, the way of the cross. It means we become agents of God's drawing love. As the encouragers, we are called to lift high the cross in such a way that others are drawn to the healing, reconciling love of Christ.

You know, I'm reminded it's pretty fresh, a story from our own community after one of our members lost her husband last year. Many of you know joy. Several of you worked together to check on her. You brought meals, you helped with yard work, or you simply maybe just sit with her in her grief. You didn't offer platitudes or try to explain away her pain. You just embodied the presence of Christ, the one who does not abandon us in our suffering, but enters into it with us. That's what it means to lift high the Cross.

So, my fellow encouragers, in the wake of heinous evil events, and on this feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, let us indeed lift high the Cross, the love of Christ proclaimed till all the world adore his sacred name. And as we prepare to receive the Blessed Sacrament, the fruit of the Cross made present among us, let's pray for our nation in these troubled times. For those who've been traumatized, comfort. And for those who lost their lives and their families. Pray for them as well.

May the God who transformed the cross from an instrument of death to the source of eternal life transform our present sorrows into future joy, our fear into faith, and our mourning into dancing.

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.