The one idea which is not found in the writings of the ancient pagan world is the Cross. The thinkers of Greece and Rome managed to philosophise about almost everything else; but this entirely eluded their powers of speculation. Our familiarity with the thought of Calvary in these New Testament times beguiles us into supposing it is something which the world has always known about. We are therefore apt to think of the Cross as one element in a system of truth, the other parts of which are creation, providence, judgment, heaven and hell. But we fail to appreciate, when we put the Cross on a par with other religious truths, that it is the one thing which was out of sight in pre-Christian pagan times, whereas all the rest was more or less in sight.

The ancients had their theories of the origin of the world. They had a sense of providence and destiny ('late'(?) was their word). They mused about the after-life and the survival of the soul. Judgment, heaven and hell were not alien concepts to them. But the thought of a Cross was beyond them. The ancient world was as blind to the thought of a crucified Saviour as they were to the existence of some of the planets and galaxies of the sky. They knew of sacrifice, of peculiar offerings, of the concept of God's work and even of substitution. But they never caught a glimpse of a Son of God becoming incarnate and dying for the guilt of this world.

It was this inability to foresee Christ's redemptive life and death on the part of the learned world which prompted the Apostle Paul to write the familiar words:

But we speak the wisdom of God in a mystery, even the hid­den wisdom, which God ordained before the world unto our glory: which none of the princes of this world knew: for had they known it, they would not have crucified the Lord of glory. But as it is written, Eye bath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God bath prepared for them that love him.1 Corinthians 2:7-9

God was too clever for them all. Their collective genius never brought them to the point where they imagined that a Cross was a divine necessity if the gate of life was to be thrown open to a lost world. Their great thinkers never reached this height. Therefore the old world, whose ignorance on this point was never dispelled by God, lived and flourished and perished without the light of Calvary ever shining upon it.

The doctrine of the Cross is not just one bead on a string of beautiful pearls. It is the central stone in the diadem of divine wisdom. For what one idea is so sublime as that of God in our nature becoming salvation to us by crucifixion?

Here is a thought to beggar thought and to palsy the genius of an Aristotle. The Cross is a doctrine which, when duly pondered, catches our breath and makes us choke with wonder. It evokes violent reactions in all who hear it with understanding. Either we hate it or we love it. Either it offends us or else we kneel in silent adoration. Either we give ourselves to God in gratitude or turn on our heel and walk away in scorn. Both reactions are common because the Cross is the place where men meet, and where they part.

A ripe cluster of divine goodness comes into view if we see the doctrine of the Cross as we should. For one thing, it must amaze us that God should do so much, plan so much, give so much, offer so much to make hell-deserving worms like ourselves into his sons and daughters. The angels who fell from heaven were left by God to their despair, misery and doom. But we mortal men, who are but fragile dust, are made the subjects of a divine, eternal purpose of recovery and of restoration. The Cross is the climax and the culmination of all this plan of mercy. To look up to a Heavenly Father and to recall his royal bounty towards our beggarly race is to know a universe of exquisite emotion. It is a heaven before heaven.

But even this recognition of God's sovereign good-pleasure to our race is not the whole of our rejoicing. More still is the person of our Redeemer him­self. Christ is 'the mystery of godliness', the incarnate Jehovah. The One who died for us is the eternal and self-existent Lord. No angel or burning seraph was worthy to become our propitiation. It must needs be the Son, who was and is co-equal with the Father and who ever dwells in his 'bosom' (John 1:18). Here are oceans of thought uncharted by the pagan philosophers of old. Earth's Saviour is its Maker. The pains of crucifixion, by which I am snatched as a brand from the burning, are those of my Creator and my Judge. No doubt they are pains which he felt in my nature and not apart from my nature — but they are his pains nonetheless.

Jesus is worthy of eternal gratitude in that he came down to bless us by his sufferings most readily and lovingly. He loved us before his human nature was prepared for him in the womb of the Virgin. Before his glory was mani­fested in the flesh 'his delights were with the sons of men' (Proverbs 8:31). Before his foot had stood on earth's soil he cried: 'Lo! I come!' (Psalm 40:7). Once born, he sped like a 'polished shaft' (Isaiah 49:2) from the divine 'quiver' and moved with alacrity through all the painful duties necessary to our redemption. No enemies discouraged him. No temptations daunted him. No agonies halted him. Our Jesus ran through rivers of blood and suffering till his work in saving us was all done and sealed up with that triumphant cry, 'It is finished!'.

We do well to stop and to appreciate 'the shame' which Jesus Christ had all his life to 'despise' as he ran his race from the womb to the Cross and back to the throne (Hebrews 12:2). His holy mind must have had high motivation or else it would have recoiled from a mission which involved him in so much misrepresentation and resentment. But this 'shame' might well have damp­ened his love still more. Was it not 'shame' for him to be the son of a sinner, even though by extraordinary generation? Was it not shame for him to read his sinful pedigree in the Bible? Was it not shame to be 'made in the likeness of sinful flesh' (Romans 8:3)? Were not his earthly companions, whether friends or foes, all sinners and unholy? Above all, were not the place, the manner and the nature of his death all ghastly beyond words? But this Lover of our souls looked above and beyond all this agonising disgrace to the fruits of his gracious passion.

It is our privilege to be told what it was that motivated our Lord to 'despise' so much that might have left him limp with 'shame'. It was, so we are informed, 'the joy that was set before him' (Hebrews 12:2). It will not do to interpret that joy as if it were his return to heaven and no more. Doubtless it involved this, but more was in view for him. The 'joy' which outweighed the 'shame' in his estimation had at its heart the wondrous thought that one day I too should be there with him in his glory. His eye saw beyond the Cross to the church. In Christ's 'joy' was the church's ultimate consummation and glorification. Stated personally, his 'joy' was to see us with him in the uncreated light of heaven. It was to have us as his own at last.

Nothing does us good as Christians like having a fresh draught of Christ's love. It is the hidden strength which martyrs knew as, in olden time, they were led forth to the lions or else set alight in barrels of tar. They could sing out the anthems of Christ's praise amidst the miseries which assailed their bodies because they had assurance of a Saviour's love and of a Saviour's heavenly home. So do we today in this modern sordid age. No less a welcome awaits the faithful followers of Jesus who serve him lovingly at home and abroad, 'in season, out of season' (2 Timothy 4:2), in sickness and in health, through ill-report and good. Who would not go through seven hells to get to Christ at last? It gives us many a deep thought to remember that the 'princes' of the ancient world — whether the intellectual giants of the philosophy schools, or the architects and heroes of those old civilisations — did not know about Christ.

His person, his coming, his incarnation, his crucifixion, his resurrection and final appearing were all things which they never heard of nor dreamed of in those far-off pagan days. Is that thought not heavier than lead to our minds? We say to God, as we must always say in such matters:

I thank thee, O Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because thou hast hid these things from the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes. Even so, Father: for so it seemed good in thy sight.Matthew 11:25, 26

But it is no sin to view their unevangelised darkness and their reprobation with horror, for there was once an age when the Gentile world never knew of Christ's Cross.

This sad thought, however, is quickly overtaken by another and by a sadder. There are millions all around us today who know no more of Christ than did the ancient pagans. The architects of our pagan democracies today are just as ignorant of gospel light as were their ancient counterparts — and less excusable.

Then let it be our vision to love this great Redeemer and his despised gospel. Let us hold on our way and preach his Cross to all who will hear us. After all, the Scripture cannot be broken which tells us:

For after that in the wisdom of God the world by wisdom knew not God, it pleased God by the foolishness of preaching to save them that believe.1 Corinthians 1:21