As I read over the verses this week, I really struggled to pinpoint what I wanted to write about. I felt guilty for not gleaning instant inspiration from the powerful word of God. But I also recognized that I didn’t just want to write. I really wanted to speak something meaningful.
So I went home everyday. Just like I have been doing for the past 4 years. But this week, home became a little different. I rent a wonderful space on a 120+ acre active farm in Conestoga. Every year, my landlord lights a large white star at the top of the silo on Christmas Eve. The white star turns to a red cross at the beginning of the Lenton season. The red cross turns to a white cross on the day He has risen. It is a publicly meaningful demonstration of faith; a demonstration that reminds me to be increasingly grateful for the people God has placed so near and dear to me.
So, last week I went home to a red cross. Pulling in the driveway one evening, both boys sound asleep in the back seat, I stared at that cross and reflected on aspects of it I don’t normally think about. Namely: the color. We have this wonderful wooden cross that hangs in the front of both our church and our sanctuary, but neither are red. In fact, I can’t think of a red cross in any church I know. But this week I believe God was calling me to somberly remember that the cross was stained red before it was made clean again. Easter is no doubt a celebration of resurrection and love, but it is a relatively meaningless celebration if we don’t first recognize the literally bloody road that Jesus first trudged. He didn’t carry his cross carefully making sure the blood dripping from his back and forehead didn’t touch its wooden edges. He stained his cross, not with sin, but with love and self-sacrifice.
This simple reflection led me to question what color my cross would be. How blood stained is my story and why? Have I stained my cross with love, sacrifice, sin, death, or a little bit of all the above? In this 40 day season, what can I leave on my cross, carry to the feet of God, and wash clean with the sacrificial death of Jesus? I posed this question to my Zumba class actually, just in a much different way. I asked them what they wanted to leave at the door and not bring into the gym. I asked them what they wanted to dance all over and not feel burdened by again.
I feel like their responses are more powerful than any summary I could offer. I’ve made sure they remain anonymous.
“I am sick and tired of being sick and tired.”
“My work load is killing me. I want to be able to relax a little.”
“I carry people’s burdens. I let others weigh me down.”
“The rat race…..work…dinner….kids…homework….sports…laundry…groceries….REPEAT.”
“Judgement”
“Struggling marriage”
“Will I ever be enough?”
“Losing my best friend in the world.”
“I feel abandoned.”
“Mourning relationships”
“We live in a shallow world.”
These are just a few reflections. It isn’t my intention to “air dirty laundry” here. These reflections, along with my own, remind me that our crosses are also stained red. We carry, often unnecessarily, a blood stained burden that can and has been washed clean by the love of Jesus Christ. This Lenton season has reminded me that I can daily have my cross cleaned. He has washed it white as snow.
experilent 
I love your post, Nicole, and am especially moved by the exercise you led at the Zumba class. I am growing increasingly aware of how intimately the physical realm is connected to the psychological, social, emotional, spiritual, and I just love the idea of dancing on the parts of life that are weighing us down. What a gift to have a Savior who not only “removes our transgressions,” but enables us to dance over our burdens with hope and freedom!