By Gonny 
(In preparation for the rebirth of innocence)
Christmas is still a month and twentyfour days away, just enough time to do something miraculous: to get ourselves off the cross.
The cross may sound dramatic, but it’s surprisingly familiar.
It appears each time we feel unfairly treated, misunderstood, ignored, or not appreciated enough.
It’s there in every sigh that says, “Why me?”
In every silent resentment.
In every time we carry guilt like a crown of thorns and call it humility.
We all have our own version. Some crosses are made of family stories, others of old disappointments or subtle grievances.
The ego loves it, it looks holy, tragic, and innocent all at once.
But A Course in Miracles is clear: the crucifixion was not meant to teach sacrifice, but to teach the end of attack.
“Teach only love, for that is what you are.”
The message wasn’t, “Look what they did to me,” but, “Look what love cannot be destroyed by.”
That is a very different story.
So the first step in getting off the cross is simply noticing: I’m on it.
When you catch yourself thinking, “If only they…”, you’ve found your nails.
When you replay the same story of injustice….that’s the hammer !
And when you insist on being right, well, that’s the crown glittering proudly on your head.
It’s not sin, it’s habit.
And habits can be unlearned.
The Course says:
“Safety is the complete relinquishment of attack.”
So each time you stop defending yourself, you’re already loosening a nail.
Each time you let someone else’s words pass through you without reaction, you’re pulling another one free.
And when you smile at your own mistakes instead of condemning them, the cross itself begins to dissolve.
We don’t have to hurry to Bethlehem yet.
Let’s use these coming weeks to practice stepping down, quietly, gently, with humor.
Every judgment we release is another step closer to resurrection.
Every act of kindness says: I am not what I thought I was..I am love,
and I am innocent.
By the time Christmas arrives, maybe the stable won’t be somewhere in Judea, but right here, in the space where the cross once stood, now empty, filled with light.
With love and light,
G.