Cross-Shaped Christian Life

I want to speak to you about the cross-shaped Christian life. There is something abroad these days that we might call churchless Christianity — a trend in which people claim to have an individual relationship with Jesus while downplaying the whole matter of coming together to a place like this for fellowship with one another. The aspect of the church is simply overlooked. Alongside it there is Christless Christendom, where people go to church for fellowship and to feel good, but Christ Himself is missing. And together with these two there is a third danger of this hour: crossless discipleship. As I look around at many churches in the city of Bangalore, and in India at large, I feel this is an important thing we must address — what it actually means to follow Christ by living a cross-shaped life.

The underlying mistake we make is that our generation is obsessed with the supernatural. We love to talk about the extraordinary. After a service we say, “It was supernatural today; it was extraordinary today.” We listen to a preacher and say, “It was magnificent — I haven’t heard a sermon like that all year.” This is the vocabulary of a people forever in pursuit of an extraordinary experience. What we are missing is the ordinary Christian life, the ordinary church. And, by the way, ordinary is not a bad word.

Look at the Scriptures. Acts 2 records the extraordinary — the rushing wind, the tongues of fire, everyone speaking in other tongues in verse 4. I know of churches that will not come down from that ecstatic experience to embrace the ordinary Christian life. But the ordinary life of the church is found a little later, in Acts 2 from verse 42 onwards: “They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and to fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer.” That is ordinary church life — coming together to study God’s word and to have fellowship. Verse 43 tells us everyone was filled with awe at the wonders and signs done by the apostles, and verse 44 says all the believers were together and had everything in common. The extraordinary costs nothing; it is an experience felt for a moment. But ordinary church life is what costs us, for in verse 45 they sold property and possessions to give to anyone in need. We need to spend time studying what an ordinary church looks like — where teaching, sharing, and fellowship are present.

The same thing happens when we talk about discipleship. We picture the extraordinary disciple who walks with Jesus, in front of whom no wall can stand; he commands the wall and it is removed, he commands the shackles and they break off. That is the idea we carry. We come to church on a Sunday morning thinking that now I have Jesus on my side, I will be able to do tremendous, extraordinary things. But wait a minute. Leonard Ravenhill had it right when he said, “Christianity today is so subnormal that if any Christian began to act like a normal New Testament Christian, he would be considered abnormal.” Our generation has reached exactly that point: if a believer lives the ordinary life of a disciple, people look at him and say he is abnormal.

Martyn Lloyd-Jones put it well. He said there is a superficial evangelism which puts the gospel entirely in terms of human beings. Preachers stand and ask, “Are you happy? Are you worried? Do you want this or that? Come to Christ and you will get it.” And so people come. But, Lloyd-Jones writes, they have never trembled under the law of God, because they were never taught it; and they are negligent about their conduct, because they came to Jesus only to get something. It is in this scenario that I want to preach about the cross-shaped Christian life, which lies at the very core of a disciple’s life.

Some categories will help us. Paul plays with several of them in his letters to the Corinthians. Is the cross-shaped disciple perceived as wise or as a fool? In 1 Corinthians 3:18 Paul says that if anyone thinks he is wise by the standards of this age, he should become a fool so that he may become truly wise. Is the cross-shaped life about being rich or poor? Paul plays with that word in 2 Corinthians, reminding us that Jesus became poor so that we might become rich — yet some are misled into thinking the disciple’s life must be marked by wealth. And is it about being strong or weak? In 2 Corinthians 11:30 Paul says that if he must boast, he will boast of the things that show his weakness. Wise or fool, rich or poor, strong or weak — where do you place the cross-shaped Christian’s life? I want to bring before you three things about how that life will look.

First, we are called to be defeated. Not defeated by sin, but defeated by the love of God — so thoroughly defeated that we can say no to ungodliness. When the love of God overcomes us, we stand up and say, “I will not live for myself; I will live for God’s glory. I will not feed my flesh; I will listen to the Spirit.” I develop this from the way the world looks at the cross itself. In 1 Corinthians 1:18 Paul says, “The message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing.” The world looks at a crucified man — and crucifixion was reserved for the worst criminals of the first century — and to be told that by believing in this crucified Messiah you will be saved seems utter nonsense.

The biggest mistake Christendom has made is to treat the cross only as an instrument God used to save humanity. Out of that come songs like “Thank You for the cross, Lord; thank You for the price You paid.” There is nothing wrong with that song, but it is only a partial understanding. The cross is not merely an instrument of salvation; it sets a pattern for our lives. Our lives should display the meaning of the cross to the people around us, patterned by its principles, so that by our choices and decisions people look at us the way the first-century crowds looked at the cross and said, “It is defeat — Jesus is defeated.” For three years He went about saying, “I am God; those who have seen Me have seen the Father,” and finally He is crucified, defeated. When our lives are patterned by the cross, people will look at us and say, “You are defeated.”

The man who understood this thoroughly was the apostle Paul. Paul too had extraordinary moments — Acts 9, the light, falling to the ground, “Who are you, Lord?” — all the dramatic things we crave every Sunday and beg for behind our closed doors. But mark this: Paul had that kind of experience only once, and to his last breath he kept recalling it, writing of the Lord who appeared to him on the road to Damascus years before. Extraordinary moments are rare. Look instead at the ordinary life of the apostle. People said of him in 2 Corinthians 10:10 that he was unimpressive in person and that his speaking amounted to nothing — not eloquent like Apollos. His letters are full of a word alien to much of Christianity today: affliction. There are lists of his sufferings in 2 Corinthians 1, in chapter 6, and in chapter 11.

Let me highlight just one verse, 2 Corinthians 11:27, so we can feel it, because most of us imagine even Paul as a man with Jesus on his side, doing the extraordinary at will. Paul says, “I have labored and toiled and have often gone without sleep; I have known hunger and thirst and have often gone without food; I have been cold and naked.” This is the ordinary life of a servant of God. Do not be carried away by the extraordinary on the road to Damascus, or the night in the Philippian jail when the prison was shaken as the apostles prayed at midnight. The ordinary life is the one in which he went hungry and thirsty and even without clothing. These are the forgotten verses of Christendom. The cross-shaped life is a call to be defeated, so that when others look at us they say, “You are defeated, man. You could have been a success in the eyes of the world, but you followed Jesus, and now you look like a failure.”

I feel this myself. When my faith is tested, I think of friends who studied with me and pursued careers in the world; and when they look at me, who chose to follow Jesus, they say, “Joe, you are defeated. You go around preaching, but what do you have at the end of the day?” When Paul’s life was displayed before others, they said his outer man was wasting away — they could smell death on him. It is not the triumphalist Paul but the defeated Paul, the one defeated by the love of Christ, who captures this in 1 Corinthians 4:9: “It seems to me that God has put us apostles on display at the end of the procession, like those condemned to die in the arena. We have been made a spectacle to the whole universe.” Our lives become a spectacle, a thing of mockery before others.

The picture comes from the Roman triumph. When a general won a great victory, the emperor would grant him a parade through the streets of Rome, and historians tell us a general’s success was measured by how many such parades he had been granted. The parade honored the general and gave gratitude to the deity, and it was arranged so that the general walked in front with trumpeters behind him. At the very end came a group of captives — strong, hefty, muscular men, their hands tied and their heads bowed. These were defeated enemies, displayed so that the watching crowds would marvel: even men as powerful as these were conquered by the general. Paul says we apostles are like those captives at the end of the procession, hands chained, heads bowed, walking in a victory parade that looks as though it is leading us to death. And who is the general at the front? Jesus Himself.

I can look back about thirteen years to the day this General, Jesus, defeated me by His love. That was the day I decided to serve God full time. My ambitions, my plans, my future aspirations — all of it was laid on the altar. I was defeated by that powerful love. My life may look as though I am condemned to die, carrying the love of God within while possessing little of what others possess. But the cross-shaped Christian life is an invitation, even today, to come and be defeated, to let people look at us and say, “We smell death; you are defeated.” That is how we become like Jesus in His death. In Philippians 3:10 Paul says he wants to know Christ and the power of His resurrection, to share in His sufferings and become like Him in His death. We become like Jesus when we pass through death-like situations, when our lives almost become a mockery.

Paul writes in Galatians 4:13 that it was in the midst of an illness that he first preached the gospel to them. Many translations say “because of” an illness, but the Greek carries the sense of “in the midst of,” “in spite of.” Paul had an illness. I know of churches in Bangalore that preach that if your body is the temple of the living God, no sickness can have a place in it — and the people say amen — but that is not the truth. Would you tell Paul, who pioneered churches, an apostle on fire, that his body was not the temple of God? In the very next verse he says that though his illness was a trial to them, they did not treat him with contempt or scorn. His illness was a trial to those who heard him — he preached the glorious gospel, yet his body was sick. In plain terms, it is the trial of laying hands on others who are healed while you yourself remain sick; of praying for childless couples who then conceive while you have no child of your own. Your life is perceived as defeat. And that is exactly what Jesus calls us to: the cross-shaped, ordinary Christian life, where, just as people looked at the cross and said it was defeat, they look at our lives and say we are failures.

Paul’s closest associate, Timothy, also had illness; Paul had to tell him to stop drinking only water but to use a little wine because of his frequent ailments. I do not buy the gospel that says sickness in your body means you are cursed or condemned. I buy the gospel in which God declares, “You are My child. Even though you have illness, I will increase the grace; My grace is sufficient for you. Do not think you are defeated and abandoned.” If you feel your family has become a mockery, that may be the very mark that you are following the cross-shaped Jesus. But if people look at you and your family and say, “What smart, successful people,” then you should be concerned when you hear this message. Our churches are flooded with testimonies of great success because, it is said, Jesus is on their side. If Paul were sitting and listening, he would ask, “What Jesus are you following?” Success in the kingdom of God is not measured by what you possess but by whom you are following; not by how many people serve you, but by how many you serve. It is an upside-down kingdom, and we are called to be defeated.

The Corinthians had a distorted understanding; they were caught between a theology of the cross and a theology of glory, just as many believers are today. The theology of glory holds that the end has already come — Jesus is already reigning, and we, as children of the King, are already living in the consummation. That gave them a distorted view of marriage (why marry, since the end is here?) and a distorted view of tongues, which they overemphasized as the very language of angels, until Paul had to tell them to speak something intelligible when they gathered. In 1 Corinthians 4:8 Paul exposes it: “Already you have all you want; already you have become rich; you have begun to reign.” But cross-shaped disciples are not called to reign now; we will reign in a future day with Christ. The theology of glory leaves no room for the cross. It imagines that nothing can go wrong, that every prayer is answered this week and the next. Yet Paul could tell the Thessalonians that he longed to visit them, but Satan stopped him — because the fullness has not yet come.

To the rich Paul gave a clear command: if you are rich, share; if you are not rich, be content; and if you are struggling for your basic needs, ask, and God will provide. That is the pattern. Paul even warns Timothy that those who want to get rich fall into temptation. So when a person has every prospect of making a great deal of money yet remains content with what he has, the world calls him a failure, defeated — and sees in his life another cross, another pattern of the cross set up in his very family. That is cross-shaped discipleship, where people see defeat and smell death.

Second, the cross-shaped life is a call to give up our rights and privileges. From the world’s perspective the cross was where Jesus was defeated; but for Jesus the cross meant the giving up of His rights and privileges. That is the meaning of Philippians 2:5 and following — the very meaning of the incarnation. Though He was in the bosom of the Father, He came in the flesh and was obedient, even to the point of death, death on a cross. God invites us into the same shape: to be willing to give up our rights and privileges if we seriously intend to follow Jesus.

Some verses always disturb me. In 1 Corinthians 6:7, written to a church rich in gifts and enriched in the word, with brilliant preachers, Paul confronts believers who were taking one another to court. He says the very fact that you have lawsuits among you means you have already been completely defeated. Then he asks, “Why not rather be wronged? Why not rather be cheated?” You know the person has cheated you — just let it go. Another verse that troubles me is Matthew 5:46-47, where Jesus asks, “If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the tax collectors doing that? And if you greet only your own people, what are you doing more than others?” That question pricks my conscience: what are you doing more than others? And the answer is in verse 44 — love your enemies.

Love your enemies — those who scheme against you, who plan things against you; your boss or team leader who makes sure your juniors are promoted but never you. What do we usually pray? “Lord, if You are on the throne and on my side, I don’t want to see that man in his chair next week.” And if he is transferred away, we testify, “God has done a great thing — the man who troubled me has been moved, because I prayed.” That Sunday the worship is loud. But this is a different Christianity from the one I see in the Bible. Cross-shaped Christianity is where you thank the Lord for the difficult boss: “Thank You, Jesus, that You did not make a mistake in placing me under him. You divinely orchestrated this office. He is irritating me and blocking my promotion — thank You — because now I can do something more than others would do.” Others would retaliate, scheme, or go to the temple to have the man removed. What should have happened in our conversion is not merely a transfer of gods — from a powerless god to an all-powerful Jesus who now grants whatever I ask — but a transformation of heart, so that we look at people in a wholly new way. In the same line, in 1 Corinthians 3:3 Paul rebukes envy and strife and asks, “Are you not acting like mere humans?” A cross-shaped disciple must do more than others and not act like a mere human.

Think in practical terms. You finish the service and drive home in the car you value so much, and someone hits you and leaves a scratch. What happens then to the message, to the cross-shaped life? I have seen believers get out and say, “If the Bible were not in my hand, I would have shown you who I am. I’m coming straight from the Sunday service — otherwise I would have shown you.” Those words are as good as a slap; they carry more force than a blow. What does it mean to be a cross-shaped disciple? Why not rather be wronged? Why not rather suffer for others? All of us have the right to safeguard our lives and to keep our hard-earned money for ourselves and our families. But if you want to follow Jesus seriously, one of the first things you will reconsider is how you handle your money. You may give up some of your rights: “I will not keep seventy percent for myself; I will give away seventy percent for God and use only thirty.” And people will say, “You are a fool.” That is what it takes.

In 2 Timothy 3:2-5 Paul lists about seventeen marks of the last days, and the first four — lovers of self, lovers of money, boastful, proud — all depict selfishness. I am afraid that some preaching is nourishing exactly this. When we preach about having more and more of this world, we are injecting the marks of the last days into people. The cross-shaped life is the opposite: it follows Jesus out of self-centeredness, willing to give up our rights and privileges, no longer lovers of money or of ourselves, but considerate of others.

There are many prayers we pray daily and wish would be answered quickly. But there is a very dangerous prayer, and if it is answered you will be in trouble: “Lord, make me like You. Make me a man who is cross-shaped in his thinking.” There was a man named Henry Suso, who lived centuries ago, a godly and unmarried saint of God. Every morning he prayed, “Lord, make me like You; I want to be a cross-shaped disciple.” One morning after he prayed, he heard a knock at the door and went out with excitement. A woman he had never seen stood there screaming, calling everyone from the street, with a baby in her arms. When the neighbors had gathered, she looked at him and said, “This is the fruit of your sin.” Every eyebrow went up: “Now we know who you really are. All this while you acted like a saint.” Henry Suso went into his prayer room, knelt, and said, “Lord, You know I am innocent. What should I do?” And he heard the voice very clearly: “Do what I did.” What did Jesus do on the cross? He who knew no sin was made sin for us; He suffered for the sake of others. So Suso went out, took the baby into his arms, and began to raise the boy.

Years later that same woman returned to the same street, gathered everyone again, and confessed that the story had never been true — she had only wanted to make sure her baby would grow up in safe arms. Henry Suso went into the same prayer room and thanked the Lord: “Now I am more like You.” On the cross, when Jesus gave up His rights and privileges, He was misunderstood and His good name was gone. Henry Suso, too, was misunderstood. This is the path of the cross-shaped disciple, where we will be misunderstood and have insults hurled at us. It is a call to give up even the right to preserve a good name. I know people so taken up with their own good name that if someone has done wrong in the church the previous week, they train their children, “Don’t sit with him.” But in Galatians 6:1-2, Paul says that if anyone is caught in a sin, you who are spiritual should be the first to come and restore him gently, and so carry each other’s burdens and fulfill the law of Christ.

Third, the cross-shaped disciple is called to be driven by future joy. He looks at the present as temporary. That is what happened on the cross: Hebrews 12:2 says that for the joy set before Him, Jesus endured the cross. Paul says the same in 2 Corinthians 4:18 — what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. The gospel is not about a better present but a better future; it is about living in the present in the light of eternity. Now, there are people so heavenly minded that they are of no earthly good — always praying, always reading the Bible, but doing no good. That is not what is expected of a cross-shaped disciple. His mind is in heaven, but his hands are on this earth, serving, loving, helping.

In Colossians 3:1-2 Paul writes, “Set your hearts and minds on things above,” and in Ephesians 2:6 he says we are seated with Christ in the heavenly realms. A cross-shaped disciple operates in this world from heaven, with a divine perspective and eternity stamped on his heart. In Romans 8:17-18 — verses I wish we would meditate on more — Paul says we are co-heirs with Christ if indeed we share in His sufferings in order that we may also share in His glory. There is no sharing in glory without sharing in suffering now; for our present sufferings, he says, are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us. No matter what happens in the present world, what matters is whether we are on our way to heaven, whether our minds are set on things above. You may be a loser in the present; you may have lost your job last week; you may be sick. It does not matter. What matters is that you live in the light of eternity.

Look at the cross, and shape your life by it. Look at the present the way Jesus looked at the cross: while the nail pierced His hands, He was looking to the future, and for the joy set before Him He endured. When suffering comes our way, the cross-shaped disciple, like Jesus, looks to the future glory and endures the present. I think this is what gave us that hymn: “I will cherish the old rugged cross, till my trophies at last I lay down; and I will cling to the old rugged cross, and exchange it some day for a crown.” We are not given the crown today; we will exchange this cross for a crown one day. The world gave Jesus thorns, and one day in glory those thorns will be exchanged for eternal glory. And there is that other hymn: “Turn your eyes upon Jesus, look full in His wonderful face, and the things of earth will grow strangely dim.” When our lives are cross-shaped, it changes everything — the way we handle money, the way we look at relationships, even the way we approach God; our very prayer requests will change.

As I conclude, I invite you all to embrace this cross-shaped discipleship, which is the need of this hour. What we need is not crossless discipleship, but cross-shaped discipleship.