Chapter 17: Why the Cross?
Why did Jesus have to die for our sins, why didn't he just erase them? A sneak peak to my book coming out soon!!
I was nearly convinced.
The resurrection account felt too well supported to be a hoax. Additionally, the apostles didn’t just say Jesus rose, they were tortured and killed refusing to deny it. I could explain away one or two radical followers being deceived or delusional, but all of them? That was harder. And the change in Paul and James… it wasn’t just emotional; it was existential. Something happened to these men.
But there were still a few questions clawing at me, especially this one:
Why did Jesus have to die?
Couldn’t God just… forgive us?
It felt like a strange plot twist. If God was really all powerful and loving, why require blood at all? Why not just snap His fingers and erase sin? I didn't doubt that Jesus was someone extraordinary anymore. But I didn’t yet understand why the cross had to be the centerpiece of the story.
The Broken Vase
Imagine this: a group of kids roughhousing in the living room, laughing and leaping, ignoring all the warnings to be careful. In their chaos, they knock over a priceless family heirloom, a vase passed down through generations. It shatters.
They’re sorry. Truly sorry. But sorry doesn’t fix the vase.
Now, the kids don’t have the means to replace it. They couldn’t even begin to understand its value, let alone afford a new one. So what happens?
If the parents are loving, they’ll forgive. Of course they will. But forgiveness doesn't unbreak the vase. If they want it replaced, they’ll have to pay for it themselves. Not because they were at fault, but because someone has to bear the cost or else the vase remains shattered forever.
That’s us. We broke the world with our sin by rebelling, rejecting, and running from God. And no matter how sorry we are, we can’t undo the damage. We can’t pay the cost. We don’t even grasp how deep the fracture goes.
And here’s the deeper tragedy: we often don’t even recognize that something’s broken. We learn to live among the shards of the vase, normalizing injustice, rationalizing selfishness, numbing our guilt. The world becomes a place where brokenness feels routine. But God never intended for it to be that way. He saw the shattered pieces, the irreplaceable beauty we lost, and He refused to leave us in that mess.
So God, the one we offended, paid it for us. If that's not true love, I don't know what is.
Why a Price Had to Be Paid
Sin is not just a mistake, it’s a fracture in the fabric of goodness. If God is holy, completely pure, just, and righteous, then sin can’t just be swept under the rug. A judge who ignores evil isn’t loving; he’s corrupt. And God is neither weak nor corrupt.
But here’s where it gets even more beautiful: God is not only just, He is also merciful. And this is the tension at the heart of the gospel. Justice says wrongdoing must be addressed. Mercy says the wrongdoer can still be loved. God, in His perfection, didn’t compromise one for the other. He upheld both.
At the cross, justice and mercy collided. God didn't let sin slide, but He didn't leave us to bear the consequences either. He took them on Himself.
Forgiveness always costs someone something. When you forgive someone who wronged you, you absorb the pain they caused, you let them off the hook, but you still feel the pain. You don’t demand repayment, but you bear the cost.
God forgave us by absorbing our cost onto Himself.
Why God Became a Man
But why did it have to be Jesus?
Because only God could bear the weight of all sin, and only a human could represent humanity. So God humbled Himself, stepped into flesh, walked among the very people who would kill Him, the ones He came to redeem, and took the penalty we owed.
The cross wasn’t divine cruelty. It was divine mercy. Jesus wasn’t a third party thrown under the bus, He was God, stepping into the courtroom of His own justice to take the sentence for us. He died not because He had to, but because he chose to love us.
Responding to Objections
“Couldn’t God just wave His hand and forgive?”
He could. But that would make sin cheap. And it’s not. Evil is real and devastating, it costs lives, hearts, and history. Imagine a judge letting a murderer go free without consequence, would we call that justice, or injustice? We know deep down that real forgiveness isn't about pretending nothing happened, it’s about acknowledging the depth of the wound and still choosing to love. True love doesn’t pretend evil didn’t happen; it confronts it and redeems it.
“Isn’t it cosmic child abuse to say the Father punished the Son?”
That’s a misunderstanding. The Trinity isn’t divided. Jesus is God. The cross wasn’t the Father forcing an innocent bystander to suffer, it was God taking His own wrath upon Himself out of love for us.
“Why couldn’t God just give us another chance?”
He did, countless times throughout history. But second chances don’t fix broken vases. We needed more than another shot at righteousness. We needed restoration.
Ask Yourself
Do I see my sin as something that actually breaks things? (Maybe not our salvation, but our relationship with God).
Have I ever tried to “pay” for my failures on my own?
What if forgiveness isn’t about ignoring guilt, but about someone else absorbing it?
This changed me.
The cross wasn’t just a symbol of suffering, it was a declaration. That God would rather suffer injustice than let me carry the punishment I earned. That He saw the shattered pieces of who I was and didn’t flinch. He stepped in, not to shame me, but to save me.
This wasn't a transaction. It was a rescue.
And it finally clicked. The crucifixion wasn't an obstacle to belief, it was the clearest proof of God’s love.
I was beginning to realize that Jesus didn’t just die so I could be forgiven.
He died because you and I were worth redeeming.