Faith is not first about what you say, but about what Christ has already done. Photo: LWF/Johanan Celine Valeriano
A while ago, someone asked me what I had done over the weekend. I hesitated for a moment before answering: “I went to church.” It wasn’t a dramatic pause, just a small one—but it revealed something within me. In many Nordic contexts, faith is not something we speak about easily. It is often kept private, quiet, and almost invisible.
I did not grow up in a religious family. Faith was never really talked about at home, and for a long time, it was not something I imagined as part of my own life. Perhaps that is why it still feels unfamiliar to say it out loud. And yet, the more I come to understand the cross, the more I realize that faith is not first about what I say, but about what Christ has already done.
So what does it mean to move closer to the cross in a place where faith is often kept at a distance?
The cross is not merely a symbol of belief or tradition. According to the Epistle to the Romans, it is where God deals decisively with sin. As the apostle Paul writes, “our old self was crucified with him” (Romans 6:6). This means that the cross is not only about Jesus’ suffering, but also about our sin being judged, our guilt being removed, and our lives being brought into a new relationship with God.
In a culture where faith can feel optional or distant, the cross tells us something essential: we are not simply searching for meaning, we are in need of redemption. The cross confronts us with the reality that sin is not just weakness or imperfection, but a condition that separates us from God. And yet, it is precisely there at the cross, that God meets us with grace.
I once heard a story, perhaps more folklore than fact about a woman who had passed away. As her funeral was being planned, the priest asked the family, “Was she a believer?” Her children answered no. But her husband said, “Oh yes, very much. She prayed every day for her children.” This story has stayed with me. A quiet faith, almost hidden, yet real.
But the cross also reminds us that faith is not only something hidden in the heart, it is a response to a public act of love. Jesus Christ was crucified openly for the world to see. The salvation he accomplished is not private, even if our expressions of faith sometimes are.
Justified by grace alone through faith
Growing up in a secular society, I have rarely felt pressured to believe, but I have often felt hesitant to show that I do. Religion can seem outdated, irrelevant, or simply too personal to bring into everyday conversations. It is not hostility that creates distance, but silence.
Yet the cross breaks that silence. It tells us that we do not need to have everything figured out before we come to God, nor before we speak of him. The cross is where human weakness meets divine mercy. It is where we are justified not by our certainty or strength, but by grace alone through faith.
Moving closer to the cross, then, is not about becoming louder or more confident in ourselves. It is about trusting in what Christ has done and allowing that truth to shape how we live and speak. It is about recognizing that we are no longer defined by our past, but by his sacrifice.
For me, that has taken small, but meaningful forms. Mentioning church in a conversation. Admitting that I pray. Asking if I can pray for someone. These are not acts of confidence in myself, but quiet expressions of trust in Christ.
Perhaps being closer to the cross in the Nordic context is not about standing out in dramatic ways, but about refusing to hide the hope we have been given. Not because our faith is strong, but because the cross is.
Because the cross is not distant. It is where Christ bore our sin, where grace was made visible, and where new life begins. And even in quiet places, even in hidden prayers, its power remains, calling us not only to believe, but to live in its light.
