Several of the pectoral crosses I wear while leading worship were handmade by a Pastor friend of ours from Wisconsin. The crosses are made out of colored glass with the colors matching the shade of the liturgical season.

This cross is one of the smallest on our wall at home. It is easy to have it get lost in the 22 other crosses around it, but the message it conveys is too important to let that happen. I say that because this small white cross with purple splashes has something else on it too… a single Easter Lily.

The Owie One. That’s what our daughter Maisie calls it. It’s the only cross on our cross wall that could be called a crucifix- that is a cross with a figure of Christ on it.

I think it’s safe to say this cross that hangs on our cross wall is unassuming. You could even call it rather plain. There isn’t any ornamentation or decoration on it. There isn’t any shiny metals or bold colors either.

In the Ancient Roman world, crosses were a symbol of death. A grueling, terrible, horrible form of execution reserved for the very worst criminals. In this way, the cross was an image of fear- similar perhaps to how firing squads, guillotines, or electric chairs have been viewed over the ages as well.