The Song of the Cross

Based on Psalm 150

Charles E. Hughes

I hear the Song of the Cross.

I hear its rhythm begin before ever the earth was spoken into existence or the greater and lesser lights were flung to their determined courses. I hear the steady rhythm pulse through counsel chambers of other worlds. I hear its steady rhythm and theme first stated by the love of a Creator in realms beyond imagination.

The Song of the Cross was prefigured in ancient times.

Adam and Eve heard the Song in the promise that a serpent’s head would be bruised.

Noah heard the Song in the ark resting on Ararat.

Abraham and Sarah heard the Song and it called them from Ur to dance to its tune in the wilderness.

Moses heard it sung from a burning bush and pulled off his sandals.

Pharaoh heard the Song, but turned a deaf ear, and it cost him his dearest.

The Children of Israel sang the Song on the promised side of the Red Sea.

Joshua marched to its beat seven times around Jericho.

David danced to its tune before the Ark of the Covenant.

Solomon danced at the dedication of the Temple.

The Psalms give variations on its theme as they celebrate The Song of the Cross.

And O, did not the prophets hear the song! When Israel lay in ruins and Judah was but a memory, the prophets sang of a suffering servant. And in the midst of their abomination of desolation they sang in minor and major keys of a scepter that would rise from little Bethlehem.

They sang to a People crushed by Persia, and their song brought to life the synagogue.

Hear the gentle music of the lullaby sung softly and confidently in a stable although Herod seeks to destroy it.

Hear the song sung at night as a family flees to Egypt to protect the Child who came to teach it.

Hear the song rising above the cacophony of the Pharisees and Sadducees as they appeal to ancient decree on dusty scrolls from which God calls them to sing and dance. But they substituted a stilted and legalistic beat for God’s rhythm and made law, not love.

The Song of the Cross is not hushed.

Legalism could not drown it out. Cooperation with Rome would not silence it. Even betrayal by a trusted friend was unable to stop it.

Listen! Listen to the cacophony and crashing of Pilate as he seeks to drown out the song of the Heavenly Kingdom to sustain an earthly one.

Listen to the rattling of spears and shields as soldiers obedient to Rome’s decree lead Jesus out of crowded Jerusalem, up the dusty trail of tears to the place where common criminals were crucified.

Listen as He sings alone, resolute though weary, stooping beneath the cross-tie and the weight of our sin.

Spikes and thorns, hammers and wood and spears were incorporated into the purpose of the

Conductor-Creator that day. They became the visible symbols of the song.

Throughout history, in every moment, the Song was heard, sometimes barely audible, but never quite gone from those with ears to hear-

Except for one awkward moment of Heavenly silence when darkness came at midday.

When the creature failed to sing, creation took up the song:

The earth shook and quaked and the sound of the great veil rending from top to bottom was heard in the Temple. Rocks and stones cried out in lamentation because the people would not.

Cold stone caressed the Singer and even his closest friends and family assumed the Song to be ended.

His disciples hid. The stone was rolled in place. The world went about its business in the deafening silence.

No sound of the Song was heard until the third day when the Singer sat up, watched the stone roll back and exited his borrowed tomb to teach the song in a new key, with chords of resurrection and the harmony of hope.

First one, and then another heard the Song.

It called and beckoned before. Now it challenged.

O, to hear it with those who heard it new!

To sit weeping and hear the Song from one thought to be the gardener!

To carry that forgiving Song to Peter!

To peer into an empty tomb and hear from angelic voices the proclamation, "He is not here. He is risen!"

To sit in a locked room and hear that voice bid, "Peace!"

To kneel with Thomas and confess, "My Lord and My God!"

A new understanding was woven into the Song that first day of the new creation. A new and powerful chord was interjected. The tune revitalized lives and gave a sense of hope, purpose and order.

Those who heard the Song now marched to its beat carrying the good news throughout the world. They sang from the upper room in tongues of humans and angels. They sang from their crosses. They sang the Song of The Cross when shipwrecked. They sang it in Rome’s cruel Coliseum. They sang it before hungry lions. They sang the Song in prisons and marketplaces, in gentile homes and governor’s courts.

Many eagerly accepted the Song as their own and began to sing it in their own languages of Greek and Latin, Coptic and French, English and Spanish, Swahili and Finish, Chinese and Japanese.

They joined in singing the Song of the Cross because it soothed the aching heart and gave rest to the weary and promise for the morrow.

Like a mother’s soft crooned lullaby that Song comforts the breast that is shattered by grief.

It whispers "Peace" during life’s greatest crisis: When the judge says, "The divorce is granted…"; When the surgeon says, "I think I got it all…"; Or when the pastor says, "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust…"

It is then, when our entire world has crumbled down around us and our hearts lie in shards in the trash heap of life that the Song is most precious and sings of blessed assurance.

The Song of the Cross has been handed from generation to generation. From the Age of the Martyrs to the Middle Ages to the Renaissance and Reformation the faithful have passed the Song. It crossed rivers oceans and continents. The tune has been picked up by each succeeding generation and sung in their time and place. Some sang quietly. When there was danger that the Song might vanish, persons have been raised up in the midst of slumbering souls and trumpeted the Song as a reveille calling the sleepers to renewal, rededication and revival.

How that song calls us! How bewitching is its melody! I hear the song of the cross in the hymns of the church: in the anthems of choirs in great cathedrals, in the nasal timbre of mountain quartets in hillside chapels.

I hear it played on pianos and organs, guitars and banjos, harps and trumpets, drums and dulcimers.

I hear it in Gregorian chants, symphonies, choruses and chorales for all who hear the Song of the Cross are invited to play the variations of their lives on the theme of Golgotha.

How beautiful the chords formed by the Carpenter for His children! How stirring the harmony of God’s children who echo and reecho Calvary’s chorus down the centuries. It bids us dance to its music. It calls gouty toes to tap. It beckons limbs twisted and wracked with arthritis and rheumatism to frolic in joy with youngsters who are hearing the Song for the first time.

Dance to its music children. Dance to its rhythm elders. Sing the Song of the Cross in your churches. Sin the Song of the Cross in your homes. Echo it across the cultivated fields. Raise its sound in the woodlands. Our world needs to hear the Song of the Cross. Governments need to tune themselves to its chords. The marketplaces of humanity need to join the singing.

Dance the dance of a new creation. Dance the dance of a new life.

Sing. Sing for the sake of your children and for the sake of your children’s children.

Sing and dance arm in arm with all God’s children,

for God Almighty

to the Song of the Cross

added the Amen of the Resurrection.