Why the World Fears the Cross
The Cross is not merely a religious symbol. It is a revelation.
It reveals what love truly looks like: not power protecting itself, but love pouring itself out. And this is precisely why the world fears the Cross.
The world prefers strength that dominates, success that impresses, and freedom without limits. The Cross contradicts all three. The Cross announces that the deepest power is self-gift, that the truest success is fidelity, and that the highest freedom is obedience to love.
This is unsettling.
The Cross also exposes illusions. It reveals that human control is fragile. It reveals that suffering cannot be eliminated by intelligence or wealth. It reveals that we will all face the question: what do we do when we cannot fix things?
Many people respond by avoiding the Cross. Not necessarily by rejecting Christianity outright, but by reshaping it into something manageable: a faith without sacrifice, a Gospel without repentance, a spirituality without obedience.
But Christ does not offer a Cross-less discipleship.
The Cross is not an accident. It is the path love takes in a fallen world.
To look at the Cross honestly is to see a God who refuses to save Himself by abandoning us. It is to see a Lord who chooses humiliation rather than revenge. It is to see love enduring pain for the sake of mercy.
And that kind of love is dangerous — because it cannot be bought, threatened, or manipulated.
The Cross also calls us to conversion. It challenges our desire to be comfortable rather than holy. It asks us to forgive, to repent, to bear burdens, to suffer with the suffering, and to love when love costs something.
That is why the Cross is feared: it demands the death of the false self.
In a Franciscan life, we return to the Cross again and again, not as grim spirituality but as truth. Joy without truth is fragile. Peace without surrender is shallow. But the joy that flows from the Cross is durable because it is rooted in love.
The Eucharist, too, is inseparable from the Cross. The Mass is not a religious performance; it is the sacramental presence of Christ’s self-offering. The Church does not merely remember Calvary; she enters its mystery and receives its fruit.
This is why Eucharistic life forms courage. If Christ offers Himself, then we can offer ourselves. Not in dramatic ways necessarily, but in daily fidelity: patience, honesty, humility, service, hidden sacrifice.
The Cross is feared because it cannot be reduced to an inspiring message. It is a demand. It says: love must become real.
But here is the mercy: the Cross is not only a demand; it is also a gift. Christ does not ask us to carry what He has not carried first. He does not command without grace. He gives Himself, and that gift becomes strength within us.
If you fear the Cross, do not be ashamed. Bring that fear to Christ. Ask for the grace to trust. Ask for the courage to love.
The world fears the Cross because it reveals the truth.
But the Christian embraces the Cross because it reveals the Heart of God.
