The Power of the Cross
If you walk down Beale Street on a Friday night, you’ll hear something unmistakable. Blues music drifting through open doors. Guitar strings bending under the weight of stories. Lyrics shaped by hardship, heartbreak, and perseverance. To some, it just sounds heavy. To others, it’s beautiful. Because in Memphis, we understand something: sometimes what sounds like sorrow is actually strength. Sometimes what feels like defeat becomes the song.
Paul says the cross works the same way.
In 1 Corinthians 1:18, he writes, “For the word of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but it is the power of God to us who are being saved.” The cross does not leave anyone neutral. It draws a line through humanity. To some, it looks weak, outdated, irrational. To others, it is life itself. The difference isn’t intelligence. It isn’t background. It isn’t morality. The difference is whether we see what God was doing there.
To the ancient world, crucifixion was not inspirational imagery—it was horrific. The Roman orator Cicero once said the very word “cross” should be removed from polite conversation. It represented humiliation and shame. And yet Paul boldly proclaims that this instrument of execution is the very power of God. What looked like Rome’s victory was actually heaven’s triumph. What looked like defeat was divine design.
The cross confronts our pride. It tells us that we cannot reason our way to God. We cannot achieve our way into forgiveness. We cannot impress our way into righteousness. Paul asks in verse 20, “Where is the one who is wise? Where is the teacher of the law? Where is the debater of this age?” In other words, who among us can save ourselves? Human wisdom can build cities, compose symphonies, and split atoms—but it cannot cleanse a guilty conscience.
God was pleased, Paul says, “to save those who believe through the foolishness of what is preached” (v. 21). That is humbling. Salvation does not come through philosophy or performance but through a crucified Savior. We do not need more information; we need redemption. The cross strips away boasting and brings us to our knees.
Paul also explains that people reject the cross for different reasons. “The Jews ask for signs and the Greeks seek wisdom” (v. 22). One group wanted power displays. The other wanted intellectual brilliance. Neither category expected a Messiah who would hang on a Roman cross. The message was a stumbling block to some and foolishness to others. And if we’re honest, it still challenges modern sensibilities today.
But to those who are called—to those whose hearts God awakens—“Christ is the power of God and the wisdom of God” (v. 24). The same cross that appears weak becomes the very place we find strength. The same cross that seems foolish becomes the wisdom that saves. God’s “foolishness” is wiser than human wisdom, and His “weakness” is stronger than human strength (v. 25).
Here’s where Memphis gives us a helpful picture again. Blues music tells the story of surviving suffering. The cross tells the story of conquering it. The blues say, “I made it through.” The cross says, “It is finished.” The resurrection declares that sin, death, and the grave do not get the final word. What looked like noise becomes glory when you understand the Composer’s intention.
This Sunday at Union Avenue Baptist Church, we’ll gather to consider the power of the cross. Not as decoration. Not as tradition. But as the dividing line of history and the only hope for salvation. The world may boast in intellect, success, or strength. But we boast in the Lord—and in a Savior who loved us enough to die for us.
If you’ve been measuring the cross by worldly standards, I invite you to look again. Stand at a distance, and it may seem foolish. Kneel at its foot, and it becomes your song. Join us Sunday at 10:45 a.m. at 2181 Union Avenue, or worship with us online at UnionAvenue.org. Let’s behold together the wisdom and power of God displayed in Christ crucified.