Pick up your cross daily: the mystery of self-emptying love

Q: Archbishop J, why the cross?

When Jesus of Nazareth says in the Gospel of Luke 9:23, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself, take up his cross daily, and follow me,” He is not offering poetic spirituality. He is inviting His disciples into one of the most radical reorientations of human life ever proposed.

For modern Christians, the cross is familiar. It appears on church steeples, around our necks, and in our homes. Yet familiarity can dull its meaning. To understand Jesus’ command, we must recover what the cross meant to those who first heard it.

For a first-century Jew living under Roman occupation, the cross was not a religious symbol. It was an instrument of terror; crucifixion was Rome’s most brutal and humiliating form of execution. It was reserved for slaves, insurrectionists, and those who challenged imperial authority. Victims were often forced to carry the crossbeam through public streets before being stripped, mocked, and slowly executed.

The shame ran even deeper within Jewish religious consciousness. In Deuteronomy 21:23, we read that one who hangs on a tree is accursed. To die on a cross was, therefore, not only political humiliation but also religious disgrace.

When Jesus told His disciples to take up their cross, they would not have heard it as metaphor; they would have heard the possibility of losing everything—honour, security, reputation, even life itself.

Yet Jesus adds a word that intensifies the challenge: daily. The cross, then, is not only the possibility of martyrdom: It becomes the pattern of discipleship.

The cross and the question of God

This radical invitation raises a deeper philosophical question: Why would anyone choose self-denial?

The Russian novelist Fyodor Dostoevsky wrestled with this question in The Brothers Karamazov. Through the character Ivan Karamazov, he poses a disturbing insight: if there is no God, then everything is permitted.

Ivan’s claim is not merely rebellious; it is philosophical. If there is no God, if the universe has no ultimate moral foundation—and human life ends in nothingness—then the logic of radical self-sacrifice becomes fragile.

One may choose kindness or cooperation, but there is no ultimate reason to surrender one’s life for truth or love.

Seen through that lens, Jesus’ command becomes startling. Why deny yourself? Why carry a cross? Why follow a path that may lead through suffering?

Without God, self-denial appears irrational. In a purely material universe, the logical pursuit of life would be comfort, survival, and self-interest. The cross would make no sense.

But Christian faith proclaims something radically different. The cross becomes the absolute expression of faith that God is real. To take up the cross is to live as though love, truth, and God are more real than power, pleasure, or survival. The disciple takes up the cross not because suffering is noble, but because God is worthy of unconditional trust.

St Paul and the meaning of the cross

Among the earliest and most profound interpreters of this mystery is Paul the Apostle. In his letters, Paul develops a theology of the cross that continues to shape Christian thought. For Paul, the cross unfolds in three great dimensions: historical, mystical, and missional.

First, the cross is historical. Jesus truly died on a Roman cross. The Christian faith is not a myth or philosophical idea; it is rooted in an event in history. As Paul writes in 1 Corinthians 1:23, “We preach Christ crucified.” To many of Paul’s contemporaries, this message seemed absurd. For Jews, it was scandalous; for Greeks, it appeared foolish. Yet Paul insists that what looks like weakness is in fact the deepest revelation of God’s wisdom and love.

Second, the cross is mystical. It is not merely something Christ endured long ago. Through Baptism and faith, believers participate in it. In Galatians 2:20, Paul writes, “I have been crucified with Christ; it is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me.” The cross, therefore, becomes interior transformation. The old self dies so that a new life may emerge. In this way the cross liberates humanity from the power of sin and opens the path to a new creation.

Third, the cross is missional. It shapes the very way the Gospel is lived and proclaimed. Paul understands his own suffering and hardship as participation in the pattern of Christ’s life. The Gospel spreads not through domination or prestige but through sacrificial love.

For Paul, the cross is simultaneously:

• Revelation—God’s wisdom and love made visible
• Redemption— humanity reconciled with God
• Transformation— the old self crucified with Christ
• Liberation—freedom from the power of sin
• Imitation— the pattern of Christian life

The cross is not merely an event in history. It becomes the shape of Christian existence. This is why Paul ultimately declares in Galatians 6:14: “Far be it from me to glory except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ.”

1 Corinthians 1:23 and the daily cross

If the cross becomes the pattern of Christian life, then Jesus’ command takes on a new depth; the daily cross is not always dramatic. Most disciples will never face martyrdom, yet each day presents moments when the choice between self-interest and love becomes clear.

The cross appears when we forgive rather than retaliate. It is there when we serve without recognition, and when we remain faithful to the truth even when it costs us. In these moments, the disciple enters the mystery of Christ’s life. The cross becomes not simply something we believe in but something we live.

The kenosis of God

At the heart of the cross lies a paradox that challenges our deepest assumptions about God. Human beings often imagine divine power as domination. We expect God to act through overwhelming force. Yet the cross reveals something astonishing: the apparent powerlessness of God.

Christ does not defend Himself. He does not summon heavenly armies. He does not crush His enemies. Instead, He empties Himself. This self-emptying is described in one of the earliest Christian hymns preserved in the Epistle to the Philippians 2:6–8. Though equal with God, Christ “emptied himself,” taking the form of a servant and becoming obedient unto death—even death on a cross. The Greek word Paul uses is kenosis, meaning self-emptying.

Kenosis reveals something profound about the nature of divine power. God does not save the world through domination but through self-giving love. The cross is therefore not merely the suffering of Christ; it is the revelation of who God is.

The deepest power in the universe is not coercion: It is love poured out completely.

The invitation of the cross

To pick up the cross daily is therefore to enter into this divine pattern of life. Discipleship becomes a life of kenosis—a continual emptying of ego, pride, and self-centredness so that the love of God may take root within us. The cross reveals that the deepest truth of the universe is not competition or domination but self-giving love.

And this brings us to a final question. If the cross reveals the self-emptying of God—if the heart of divine action is kenosis—what does this mean for our conception of God?

Is God the distant ruler we sometimes imagine? Or is God far more mysterious: the One whose greatest power is the freedom to give Himself completely for the life of the world?

If the deepest truth of God is self-emptying love, then the cross is not only something we carry. It is the revelation of who God truly is.

And the question that remains for every disciple is simple—and demanding: Are we willing to live that same love … every day?

Key Message:

The cross reveals that the deepest power of God is self-emptying love. To take up our cross daily is to live that same kenotic love in faith that God is real.

Action Step:

Every day, choose the difficult way over the easy one. Choose self-denial and the cross.

Scripture for Reflection:

1 Cor 1:18–25