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How Heavy is a Cross

by Norman Wagoner © 2007

Is your cross made of balsa,
Or is your cross made of oak?

Is you cross light and full of air
Or is it water soaked?

Does your cross rub your shoulder raw,
Or can you feel it there?

Is your cross's burden seldom felt,
Or is it hard to bare?

Do you ever pick yours up
As Christ has asked you to?

Or do you leave it by your bed
Like I so often do.

Sometimes I wonder what He felt.
How heavy was that tree?

How heavy was all mankind's sin,
He took to calvery?

I think of all the strength it took
To shoulder all that load.

And though I've toted railroad ties
Its just not tha' same road.

But I don't think that that's the cross
My Christ asks me to bear.

Its' sometimes different for each one.
For me, its earthly cares.

Or is it all that pride in me,
Against which I do fall?

Or is it lust for things I see
And should not have at all?

Perhaps it is the sum of these,
And different each day too.

Perhaps it does not matter,
My Lords told me what to do.

"Take up your cross and follow me",
We all have heard Him say.

It's tough, but I'm reminded
Of the price He had to pay.

It was my sin that put it there,
That cross upon His back.

It was my sin He washed with blood,
From brow, and side and back.

Sometimes it seems so long ago,
So way far back in time.

The devil's trick - to make men think
There is no check-out line.

It's appointed once, for man to die,
And then the judgment too.

If you don't give your heart to Christ
Someday this will be you.

Jesus Christ can wash your sins
As bright and clean as snow.

And help you bear your cross each day
Regardless of the load.

So each day when I go to bed
I leave my cross lay there.

And each day when I wake to rise
It's still my cross to bear.

So whether it a pixie stick,
Or two hundred pound bolder

My Christ has asked I lift it up and
Place it on my shoulder.

So I ask again, is your cross oak,
Or is it balsa wood.

Are ya' pickin' up what Christ has asked,
And that you know you should.

Or are you leaving some behind
For someone else to bear.

You know there are some watching
To see if you really care.

So rise each day and don't wait long
To place it on your shoulder.

Christ will be there, to help you bear
Your twig or rock or bolder.

Is your cross made of balsa,
Or is it solid oak?

Cast all your cares, on Him to share
On His body that we broke.


Norman L. Wagoner

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This poem was a finalist in the August 2007 poetry contest

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Click Here to contact Norman Wagoner to request permission to use this poem.