This is What I Know

"When anxiety was great within me, your consolation brought me joy." Psalm 94:19

I wear a gold cross around my neck. I don’t wear it everyday. Sometimes I go for weeks, even months without it. It’s nothing flashy. It’s not big or even very conspicuous. I bought it at JC Penney in 1994. I remember thinking that I wanted a cross necklace that I could wear that wouldn’t be too obvious; something just for me. When I saw it, I was charmed by its simplicity. There is a very small gem in the center of the cross. I had it tested at a jeweler’s once. It's a diamond but it's what they call a diamond-chip and has very little monetary value. Nothing about my necklace is remarkable, even the diamond.

My little cross brings me comfort I can’t describe. It holds no divine power that I’m aware of, like I said, unremarkable. However, it is a reminder of the fact that my Savior is near to me, nearer than the chain around my neck. Some days I need that reminder. Of course, the nearness of Jesus is the same regardless of the ornamentation of myself. Yet, having something tangible, a reminder, can be a forceful tool.

There have been moments while wearing my cross that felt like I didn’t have the energy or faith or willpower needed to continue on. Over the last twenty-seven-ish years, I have formed a ritual. When wearing my cross, I will take it between the thumb and forefinger of my left hand and hold it out a few inches from my body. The back of the cross is textured while the front is smooth. I will rub my thumb along the back texture of the cross. It is an unconscious act now. I do it here, at my keyboard, to describe it to you. It is an automated response to my need for comfort, for direction, for healing… for faith. Then, I will usually shut my eyes. But I don’t pray. Usually in these spaces there is too much static in my mind for me to pray, so I will rub the back of my cross and breathe. I will breathe and know. In this ritual, I remind myself what I know:

The Creator of the Universe created me. He decided that I am so important and needed in this world that He would take time away from creating trees and lions and sunsets and daisies to create me. This is what I know.

The Holy Spirit lives inside of me. He is outside of time and has nothing but patience for me, even when I have no patience left. He whispers to the places in my soul that are tired or hurting or ugly and His whispers are of love and life and joy and peace. This is what I know.

The Savior of the world, who was mercilessly nailed to a cross did so for me. He did this so that nothing I could do or say could remove my birth-right of eternity with Him. He pursues me because of His undying love for me and for His unwavering mercy towards me. This is what I know.

I don’t believe in ordinary things, like my necklace, holding extraordinary powers. But I do believe that we, the owner of ordinary things, hold extraordinary powers; humanistic powers like love and forgiveness and compassion and mercy. They are extraordinary powers in that they change people. They change lives.

And I need to be reminded of all this… Some times more often than other times. I remember what I know when I’m wearing my little cross. It brings me comfort. It brings me peace. It brings me joy. This is what I know.