In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Glory to Jesus Christ. Glory Forever.

I read a story once about the early Cold War period just after the Second World War, and I was struck by the examples of courage and sacrifice that I found there. It's easy enough to speak freely of what we think when we're among friends in safety and security, knowing that no one's going to come get us because we say something that's unpopular, that our government doesn't like, or something like that.

But when a man leaves the country he loves because he rejects the oppression that he finds there, the poison that contaminates it—that's something remarkable. And this man in his account continues to act with love and generosity amid strangers in a foreign land. It's a beautiful witness of how one can live and the measure that may be called upon us to act with courage, with loving sacrifice.

But the strongest example that I found in the story was about a Cold War spy, a traitor. He began as an idealist professor during the war supporting the Soviet cause against the Nazis, but afterwards slowly betrayed every ideal that he held, betrayed trusts with friends, with those who depended on him in various ways, and found himself steadily trapped in the compromises, the rationalizations that he'd been making all along, until in the end he was asked by his handlers to help murder a man, and that was just going too far. He couldn't bear it anymore. He despised the person that he had become.

And so he stopped and confessed to the authorities that he had been spying, that he was a traitor. And in prison, he tells a priest that he had thought that he was in too deep, that there was no way out. There was no way out for him, that he was lost. And the priest told him, "There is always a way. We may not like the cost, but there is always a way."

Brothers and sisters, what courage it takes to admit great wrongs, to turn back at that point towards what you know is right, recognizing that there will be those that will not let you back, they will not reconcile with you for the wrongs that you've done, knowing that the cost may be the loss of position, maybe shame, condemnation, loss of friends.

And this brings us all to the words that Jesus spoke that we heard in the Gospel today: "If you want to follow me, deny yourself, take up your cross and follow me."

Brothers and sisters, we are glad to be called Christians. And it's wonderful that we have this opportunity to gather in this lovely space humbly and without fear to assemble and to worship the Lord as we believe and follow the truth that we know. We do so in peace and quiet. We may be judged by others. They may think we're foolish or worse than foolish, but nobody's stopping us. Nobody's chasing after us or coming here today.

And when we hear these challenges in the Gospel, in the Scriptures, in the services of the church, in the lives of the saints, in the words of the Fathers that tell us in various ways to deny ourselves, take up the cross and follow Jesus, there are times when we are not willing to pay the costs. We have homes, lives, and jobs and cares and responsibilities. And surely the Lord does not actually mean that we're supposed to really lay these things on the line. We're not monks and nuns. We're not heroic saints. What does God expect of us?

Well, what God expects of us is that we are to love him with all our heart, with all our soul, with all our strength, with all our mind, holding nothing back. And as Jesus says today in the Gospel, "He who is ashamed of me and my Gospel, of him the Son of Man will be ashamed when he comes in his glory."

At some point, brothers and sisters, you will be called upon to act with courage, to make a choice, to decide whether you truly love the Lord your God with all that you are and all that you have, whether you're willing to lay that on the line or not.

And if there is something in your life that is holding you back from God, from his kingdom, from reconciling with your neighbor, then certainly that is one of those examples where we have to find a way to lay that great burden on the altar of God, to give it up at great cost perhaps, but knowing that God is worth all things, everything that we have, everything that we are.

And there is for us that confidence, that assurance that if we turn from our evil ways, those destructive paths that are leading us to death, if we acknowledge our wrong, confess it, and turn, then we will be freed from the burden of those sins. We will be washed clean, set aright, and granted immeasurable mercy. There is always a way. You may not like the cost, but there is always a way.

And the way for Christians is indeed costly. We are gathered together here in the midst of this Great Fast and at its midpoint, at the crossroads, we place the Cross of the Lord because we know that this is the heart of all things and this is our destination. There is no way to eternal life, there is no way to the kingdom of heaven, there is no way to life with God that does not go through the Cross.

That is where we are today and that's what we look forward to at the end of this fast when we will come and kneel before the precious Cross of the Lord as we worship his holy Passion, his life-giving sacrifice for us. That is the cost of being a Christian—embracing that costly love that our God has shown to us and to follow.

Brothers and sisters, there are of course other ways. We don't have to. But those easy ways trap us and snare us, drag us down, and lead us only to despair and darkness and ultimately death. This costly way that is set for us is difficult. It's hard. I'm sure all of us at this point are finding the fast hard, to be faithful in things big and small. But it's good. It is life-giving. It gives us strength that is not coming from ourselves, but from the life of God and his immeasurable love for us.

And no matter how far off course we find ourselves, however deep into a pit we seem to have fallen, however broken our lives may seem at this moment, we find that the reach of God to embrace us, to lift us up, to rescue us from the trap of our own devising, to straighten us out, to make us new, to give us life—his reach is greater than our sins and his love is beyond our imagining.

And what we find is that the great and terrible judge of our lives is not remote, looking at us from a distance in harsh and unfeeling judgment, but rather reveals himself to be the one who has come down to join us in our sufferings, in our troubles, in our weakness, to make our condition his own, to take it all upon himself, even our sins, to take them on himself and to nail those sins with himself to the Cross.

Our judge is also our greatest advocate and savior, and he gives us the strength and hope to carry on in this hard work that we are set to, to enter into now in the midst of the fast. He gives us strength and courage to act boldly in self-sacrifice in this costly way that we continue from here, this Sunday of the Cross, all the way to Great and Holy Friday to the remembrance of the Crucifixion and all the days of our life. It is a hope, a purpose that the world cannot understand, but is the best thing there is in the world and raises us to life eternal.

Glory to Jesus Christ. Glory Forever.