Dear readers, below you will find a very beautiful word from Met. Luke of Zaporozhye. The original in Russian may be found here. On the Sunday of the Cross, may we truly remember that our Lord Jesus has overcome all the darkest inhumanities of mankind. The world seeks power through bloodshed, control, and tyranny. All these things last for a little while and then are blown away like sand on the wind. The Cross enters into the center of human suffering and renews it. It does not use human suffering as a means to control, but rather it takes it and refashions it into the very path of freedom. The world wants you in uncertainty and fear, because it seeks ungodly control over people. The Cross sets people free; it imparts to them hope and light. Death is overcome. Even though we walk through the valley of death, it will end. All those who built it and cultivated it will perish with it, but the person who loved God will abide forever, not in death but in life. The so-called “powers” of this world can have the valley of death for their home. It’s not the Christian home.

Christ is in our midst, my dear readers! The Fortress of our confession in a world of trials.

Today is the equator of our Lenten pilgrimage. We are like travelers in the desert, tired of the heat and the long journey, who suddenly find the shade of a spreading tree. The Life-giving Cross of the Lord is raised up in the center of the Church. And it is today that the words of the Apostle Paul — “let us hold fast to our profession” (Hebrews 4:14) — sound to us not as a theological idea, but as a command to endure. What does it mean? We often think that it’s just being faithful to the right words or rituals.

But in these terrible times, confession is not found in a prayer book text. It is a living umbilical cord that connects us to Someone Who has gone through death itself. Sin is not just a bad act. It is an ontological chasm between us and the Source of Life. It is an abyss of alienation wherein a person freezes alone. We stand at the edge of this abyss every time the sky seems leaden and prayer powerless. The Old Testament priests tried to build bridges out of words and sacrifices, but they themselves were part of our fallen nature. Christ did not build a bridge out of declarations. He Himself became the Bridge. He combined the indestructibility of God and the fragility of our flesh. When we worship the Cross, we stand on this bridge so as not to fall into the abyss of despair.

For the ancient world, the idea of a suffering God was total madness. The philosophers sought “absolute dispassion,” and the Jews trembled before the “unattainable Judge.” But the Gospel has brought a revolutionary truth to the world: our God has a Heart that feels. Jesus did not become a half-Human Being. He accepted not only our body, but also our soul, with all its capacity to feel horror, betrayal, and loneliness. When your heart is squeezed by pain for your loved ones, when you see the triumph of injustice and involuntarily whisper, “Lord, where are You?” — look at the Cross. He did not remain in the heavenly silence. He shared the deepest darkness with us. He knows the taste of your sorrow not theoretically, but from the experience of His very own sufferings. To the question: “Where is God when the innocent are suffering?” – The cross replies, “He’s here. He suffers with them so that no one dies alone.” The apostle says that Christ was “tempted in all things except sin.” Do you know what the scariest temptation is today? It’s “Adam’s temptation” — the temptation of despair. It is a whisper of darkness, suggesting that we harden ourselves, curse everything, and “go into spiritual hibernation,” rather than feel pain.

To hold on to faith today means not to let the outer darkness extinguish the inner lamp of trust in Christ. This is a daily choice: Love when the world demands hatred; prayer when the mind dictates despondency; mercy when the heart wants to turn to stone. The Cross of the Lord is the only Anchor that will not let you down. But this anchor is thrown not into the earthly soil, which is slipping away from under our feet, but “beyond the veil” of heaven, into the reality of the Resurrection. If our trust is based on politics or earthly forces, it will be shaken. If it rests on Christ, no storm can sink the ship of our soul.

My dear ones! We are not abandoned orphans. We are the children of the One Who is not ashamed to call us His Own. Let us approach the Cross not with slavish fear, but with boldness. Let’s bring our pain, our doubts, and our tears to Him. May the power of the Life-giving Tree strengthen us. Remember: Golgotha is always followed by Light. By holding onto the Cross, we are already partaking of a Victory that neither death nor hell can take away.