Marketing experts are always quick to tell start-up businesses how important it is to develop a corporate logo. "Brand identity" they call it, pointing out that symbols serve to generate not only product familiarity but also identification with the overall philosophy of an organization. As the authors of one book on logo design state, "The success of any business or organization lies in its ability to persuade its audience to do what it wants…The ultimate goal of any designer when creating a logo is, of course, to develop a rhetorical and informative mark - one that not only identifies the company and its business, but also helps persuade viewers to respond in a specified manner."

For Christians and other religious groups we might agree that the same holds true. The old adage, "a picture's worth a thousand words" reminds us that even around the spiritual dimensions of our lives we can be consistently and powerfully moved by a single sign or symbol. For the Jewish people it is often the Star of David, for Buddhists, the figure of their enlightened teacher, and for us as Christians the central "logo" of our life together is so frequently the cross, that sacred sign of God's sacrifice offered through Christ. Through this marking we're continually reminded of God's undying love for the world and of our call to love and serve one another throughout the course of our earthly existence.

It's because the cross plays such a central in our modern lives that it can be easy to assume it has always been so prominent. Looking through centuries of Christian art, church design and Scriptural citations like the one before us today, we find countless examples of how the symbol of the cross exerts its influence. From crucifixes that hold the dying Christ that have inspired patience in suffering and sacrifice for countless generations, to plain, wooden beams that speak of God's victory over death, to lighter, more ornate representations like the one hanging above us in this very sanctuary, the cross plays such a central role in the church's teachings. But this was not always the case. Even with all of the spiritual significance and power assigned to the cross for centuries it was not the first "logo" of our faith.

We'd certainly realize this if we took a trip to the ancient catacombs of Rome. There we'd be offered a glimpse of other images they held as most precious, seeing etchings of palm branches and the dove, of peacocks and maybe even a bird of paradise. Carved on those walls we'd find the symbol of the fish, a representation of Christ as the ultimate fisher of men and women, the word "fish" in Greek also providing letters for the acrostic, "Jesus Christ, Son of God, Savior." Archeologists tell us these are the symbols we would see. Nowhere would we find the cross.

Why is that? How could it be that the image that leads us to the resurrection would be missing from those walls?

By looking at the beginning history of our tradition we can understand why. Remember: the cross, so visually inspirational to us now, was the most shameful form of execution in those first centuries. Saved for the lowest and most vile criminals in the Roman Empire it was an instrument of humiliation and torture. Placing such a sign on those sacred walls would have been like etching the image of an electric chair or lethal injection table alongside those other symbols of renewal and hope. That wasn't what those disciples wanted. Those first struggling communities sought to embrace the more redemptive aspects of this budding tradition, communicating the fullness of the gospel by signs other than the destructive device that had killed their Lord and so many others through the years. And so they focused on palm branches and doves and the two simple lines that formed the curve of a fish as a way to share that they were followers of Christ in an age of religious trial and persecution.

Of course, this all changed with the reign of Constantine. Crowned as Roman emperor in the year 306 it was the vision of this eighteen-year-old man that altered Christian symbolism forever, changing with it the course of the Christian story. As told by Eusebius, an early church historian, Constantine reported that as his bedraggled army prepared to storm Italy, "He saw with his own eyes the trophy of a cross of light in the heavens, above the sun, bearing the inscription "In This Sign, Conquer" (In Hoc Signo Vinces). Gathering his troops around him, "he described to them the figure of the sign he had seen" and gave them the new standard to carry into battle. Eusebius continues, "The emperor constantly made use of this sign of salvation as a safeguard against every adverse and hostile power, and commanded that others similar to it should be carried at the head of all his armies." Through the sign of the cross Constantine set out to conquer over and over again.

As we know, he was amazingly victorious. With a growing empire that young man was convinced of the truth of Christianity and became a Christian. So did his army, and, ultimately, so did the empire. The origins of our faith and its practice began to grow and change, as you can imagine, and the symbol of the cross began to take precedence over all other Christian signs as a result of Constantine's decree. James Carroll, in his latest book Constantine's Sword, writes about these monumental shifts:

In a way, this is the second-greatest story ever told, at least concerning what we think of as Western civilization. After the death and Resurrection of Jesus, the conversion of Constantine may have been the most implication-laden event in Western history. If we rarely think so, that is because we take utterly for granted the structures of culture, mind, politics, spirituality, and even calendar (Sunday as holiday) to which it led…When the power of the empire became joined to the ideology of the Church, the empire was immediately recast and reenergized, and the Church became an entity so different from what had preceded it as to be almost unrecognizable.

"If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me." It's so hard to imagine how Christ's words could be applied to violence and imperialism as they were by that Roman emperor. As Carroll implies, Constantine's efforts to expand his domain seem barely in keeping with the original mission of Christ's church. And yet, we know that it was through his actions that the church was able to grow beyond its miniscule base. Once a small and despised ten percent of the population Christians quickly became the solid majority, causing it to be as Carroll observes, a "private, apolitical movement shifting into the shaper of world politics." Depressingly violent on the one hand, Constantine's mission helped our religious tradition to grow through the centuries on the other. He took up the cross, outlawing it as a form of execution and making it a sign of God's triumph all over the world. It became the symbol central not only to Constantine's conversion but also of the Christian story itself.

It was the apostle Paul who wrote, "May I never boast of anything except the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world" (Galatians 6: 14). Just as Constantine lifted the symbol of our faith to great heights so we realize in this day and age we're called to do the same, with perseverance and courage, with great optimism and dedication. Like that man we're challenged to look to God for our strength and protection, boasting, as Paul says, of nothing else.

But unlike the Roman emperor we may certainly realize we do so not for our own gain. As highlighted in Matthew's gospel, we hear Christ's call to be one of humility and denial as we take up the cross in order to serve others in this world. This passage reminds us that the foundation of Christian discipleship is to put God's love at the forefront of all that we do. Isn't that what Jesus tells us over and over again through his teachings as well as his actions? That by embracing God's mercy we're moved to share it with others; that by putting our more selfish concerns aside we will find true joy, meaning and hope.

The cross as the symbol of our history reminds us that like Christ we're called not to lives of extreme comfort and social acceptability but rather to moments of sacrifice, bringing comfort to those in pain, those outcast and forgotten. As we take up the cross and lose ourselves in Christian living we begin to understand that leaving the standards of the world behind we enter God's highest realm.

Not everyone can understand that. Just as Peter is upset by the announcement of the imminent suffering of Jesus, so there are many people in this world who can't comprehend why we would choose this standard for our lives, a path of sacrifice and service. Just as the Jews and Gentiles of Christ's time were expecting a glorious and triumphant arrival of the Messiah, so there are many men and women in our day who may seek only the miraculous and majestic comforts of religion, not wanting to expand these dreams in order to help the lowly and outcast in our world. But as a people inspired by the Holy Spirit, as modern day disciples touched by the living God we know in Jesus Christ, we willingly embrace the truth of the Gospel: we take hold of the cross with humility, embracing it as a symbol of our history and as a sign of our greatest healing and hope. Following Christ we walk in the way of merciful grace and service.

"Lift high the cross, the love of Christ proclaim; let all adore and praise that sacred name." Those are the words we'll sing together as we close our worship today, words reminding us that like those first disciples we can give joyful witness to the redemptive power of our God. Appreciating in new ways the power that the cross holds as a "logo" of our faith we can further embrace its call to mission. May we each be persuaded to serve in the fullness of its witness and teachings.

Let us pray.