The Cross Before Me

 

The sight of the simple iron cross at the top of Korakas Hill which stands opposite our house in Athens takes me back to last year, and especially those weeks spent in lockdown when we walked in those hills. It’s a reasonably easy scramble up to the top, and once you’ve recovered your breath, you can look down over the whole city of Athens, see the Acropolis in the far distance, and down to the port of Piraeus.

It is a simple structure, this cross, just two pieces of steel welded together and wedged into the rocks, and is not obviously associated with any shrine or religious memorial. 

Often, when the weather turned wild, either with great clouds scudding across the sky or a morning mist covering the hillside, the cross would hidden from view. But you would always know it was there. 

At other times, it would suddenly emerge with the orange light of the setting sun, or in the early morning light be silhouetted against the rising sun.

Either way, it was a constant reminder of the religious foundation of this land we had come to live in. Even though Greece has become increasingly secular, there are still many indications of that strong religious heritage, and more importantly, evidence of a new emerging spiritual vitality through the work of Christian churches and mission organisations here.

For us, this cross, has been a physical marker, a reminder of God’s presence, a symbol of his constant care and protection, watching over us, as it were, from up there on the hill. 

Once again, in this evening light, I stop and give thanks for the opportunity we had to live and work here.

Then back to packing.