Imagine the scene at the cross. Soldiers huddled in a circle, dice-throwing—casting lots for the possessions of Christ. Common soldiers witnessing the world’s most uncommon event. Just another criminal. The cross is forgotten.
It makes me think of us. The religious. Those who claim heritage at the cross. All of us. The strict. The loose. The simple. The Spirit-filled. Evangelical. All of us. We’re not so unlike these soldiers. We, too, play games at the foot of the cross. We compete for members. We scramble for status. Competition. Selfishness. Personal gain. It’s all there. We major in the trivial, we split into little huddles. Another name. Another doctrine. So close to the cross but so far from the Christ.
“May they all be one,” Jesus prayed. One. Not one in groups of two thousand. One church. One faith. One Lord. No hierarchies. No traditions. Just Christ.
