When I Survey the Wondrous Cross

The Three Crosses, 1653, Rembrandt

When I survey the wondrous cross
On which the Prince of glory died
My richest gain I count but loss
And pour contempt on all my pride

Forbid it Lord, that I should boast
Save in the death of Christ my God
All the vain things that charm me most
I sacrifice them to His blood

See, from His head, His hands, His feet
Sorrow and love flow mingled down
Did e'er such love and sorrow meet
Or thorns compose so rich a crown?

Were the whole realm of nature mine
That were a present far too small
Love so amazing, so divine
Demands my soul, my life, my all

I guess sometimes the art of living in a desert storm is to focus on the next oasis of living water, and not on the parched environment itself. And I don't mean dryness in the seasonal sense. Somehow, I think it is easier to live knowing that one is perpetually living in the posture of a pilgrim in the desert, than to delude oneself that s/he has arrived in some periodic sense. Perhaps Christ doesn't want people to accept life's status quo. The Cross is too deep and profound for that. And I don't mean the depth of the Cross should necessarily lead to a greater commitment towards church activities. The praxis of 'church within the walls' prayers makes it hard for me to understand the Church in the wider sense. Am I doing it for the sake of doing it? Or have I really understood why I'm doing it? Maybe in the eyes of many, that has been translated to a perception of apathy or indifference towards church. But I hope people can be more understanding towards the minds of the apathetic - his or her genealogy of apathy so to speak - before judgments are passed through actions, inactions, thoughts, speech acts and gazes.