As human beings, we instinctively recoil from anything that causes pain. Yet in life, joy and sorrow are inseparable, and we cannot truly appreciate one without experiencing the other. When we try to avoid anything that hurts us, we not only weaken our endurance, but also dull our ability to savor joy. Our allergy to pain leads us to trivialize our sweetest pleasures while magnifying minor discomforts.

The tendency to avoid or exaggerate suffering stands in sharp contrast to the Christian understanding of it. We learn from our catechism that suffering, in itself, is not a virtue. Even Jesus, in the Garden of Gethsemane, prayed, "Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me" (Luke 22:42). Sweating blood, He asked the Father to spare Him from the agony of carrying the cross and being crucified on it.

During the time of the Romans, the cross was an instrument of capital punishment reserved for the worst criminals. It represented public humiliation, defeat, and unbearable torture. But when Jesus willingly bore the cross, not for His own gain, but for our redemption, He transformed it from a symbol of suffering into a source of grace and victory.

When Jesus said to His disciples, “Take up your cross” (Luke 9:23), He was not inviting us to seek out suffering or cling to pain that we have the power to avoid. Christianity is not for masochists. Rather, Jesus calls us to imitate His self-giving love. As today’s Gospel reminds us, “For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, so that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life” (John 3:16). When we unite our suffering with His, it takes on a redemptive power.

Still, we must admit that the cross is something we would rather do without. It cuts against our instinct for convenience, comfort, and security. As St. Paul writes, “We preach Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles” (1 Corinthians 1:23).

Today, for many, the cross has been reduced to a piece of jewelry, a decorative symbol in churches, or a kind of charm against evil. Some even wear it as if it were a promise of a painless, prosperous life. But Jesus shatters that illusion: “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself, take up his cross daily, and follow me” (Luke 9:23).

Jesus said “daily” because the cross is not only how He saved us. It is also how He shapes us. It molds our character, purifies our love, and deepens our relationship with God and others. It reminds us that we are not self-sufficient, so we must depend more on God’s grace than on our own strength.

The cross is often seen as a burden. But we can also see it as an anchor. A burden drags us down. An anchor, although just as heavy, steadies us. Just as a ship depends on its anchor to remain grounded during a storm, so the Christian depends on the cross to stay spiritually centered amid life’s chaos. The cross does not remove the storm; it gives us strength and direction to withstand it.

When we begin to see the cross this way, life’s trials no longer seem meaningless. They become opportunities for growth, deeper trust in God, and compassion toward others who are suffering. The cross becomes more than a personal struggle. It becomes a symbol of shared humanity and enduring hope.

On this Feast of the Exaltation of the Cross, instead of asking, “Why does God allow me to suffer? Why is He giving me this cross to carry?” perhaps the better question is: “How is God forming me through this cross I’m carrying?”