Carrying the Cross as We Are

And he said to all, ”If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will save it.”

Luke 9:23-24

These words of Jesus are both challenging and deeply comforting. He doesn’t invite us into an easy life or a shallow version of discipleship. He calls us into a life of daily surrender, of intentional self-denial, and of wholehearted following. Notice the word “daily.” This isn’t a one-time event or a mountaintop moment—it’s a consistent, everyday decision to lay down our own agendas, desires, and pride in order to walk in step with Christ. Matthew 16:25, a direct parallel to Luke 9:24, emphasizes the paradox of true life in surrender, saying, “For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.”

Jesus’ words here in Luke and Matthew are radical, and they are for everyone. When Jesus says in Luke, “If anyone would come after me…” there are no exceptions or footnotes. This invitation includes us, as we are—fully LGBTQ+, fully beloved, fully called. In Romans 8:38–39, Paul says, “For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” To know this should be a deeply comforting assurance that God’s love is unshakable—no matter what others say.

The “cross” we are called to bear is not merely a symbol of hardship—it represents a path of sacrificial love and obedience. Galatians 2:20 says, “I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.” In Jesus’ day, the cross was an instrument of death, and so this invitation is radical: to die and be reborn through baptism is to do so that we may truly live. 

For many LGBTQ+ Christians, the idea of “denying self” has been used wrongly, sometimes as a weapon. But Jesus isn’t calling us to deny who we are, who He created us to be.  God promises a personal, affirming promise that speaks to identity and belonging in Isaiah 43:1, “Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine.” He’s not asking us to deny our identity, our love, our truth. He’s asking us, like all His followers, to deny the parts of all our selves that pull us away from love, grace, and trust in Him—things like pride, fear, bitterness, or the temptation to conform to the world’s rejection.

In a world that urges us to seek our own happiness and preserve our own lives, Jesus turns that message upside down. True life, He says, comes through surrender. In Romans 12:1, Paul tells us, “I appeal to you therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship.” Paradoxically, when we lose ourselves in Him—our rights, our plans, our self-will—we find a richer, eternal life in return. 

Taking up our cross may already be familiar. Perhaps you’ve carried the weight of being misunderstood by your church, judged by others, or even wrestling with God over your place in the Body of Christ, but in John 10:10, Jesus says, “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.” Here’s the beauty: Jesus sees the burdens we carry, and still, He calls us to follow Him, not in shame, but in freedom. The cross we carry daily isn’t about being less than; it’s about laying down everything that keeps us from fully knowing we are loved, chosen, and sent.

When we live openly in our identity and our faith, we’re not just losing our own life—we’re giving it away for something greater. Psalm 139:13–14 says, “For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully set apart. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well.” We’re participating in Christ’s upside-down kingdom, where the last are first, the rejected are embraced, and the wounded become healers.

Good Friday, a reminder that Jesus took up the cross and was crucified for our sins, is just two weeks away. John 19:17-18 tells us that Jesus ”went out, bearing his own cross…they crucified him, and with him two others, one on either side, and Jesus between them.” Between now and Good Friday, Let us think about one way we’ve had to carry a “cross” because of our identity. Offer that experience to Jesus today—not to erase it, but to let Him transform it into something sacred. Whether it’s our time, pride, comfort, or control—lay it down and follow Him there. Then, reach out to someone else who may need to hear: You are loved, and you belong.


Pic of the Day


Moment of Zen: Swimming


Pic of the Day


Finally, It’s Friday!

I’m so glad it’s Friday, and it’s a vacation day for me. I have some vacation time I have to take by the end of our fiscal year (May 31) or lose it, so with the exception of next Wednesday, I will be taking off every Wednesday and Friday through the end of May.

While I mostly plan to relax and read over the weekend, I have some work to do for my class. My students’ research paper was due yesterday, and I need to grade those. I also need to catch up on grading their journals and prepare the final exam. Next week is the last week of classes, and I also need to prepare my final lectures. None of these tasks are difficult, but time consuming.

I also need to do some housework and laundry this weekend. Thinking of all I need to do, it might not be that relaxing of a weekend, but I’ll try my best to set aside some time just for me.

I forgot to post an Isabella Pic of the Week, so here you go:


Pic of the Day


Just Another Thursday

I really don’t have much to say today. It’s been a decent week with nothing too exciting. I’m still recovering from my illness that put me in the hospital, but every day, I’m getting better. I will need an ultrasound to check a few things further, but I’m not really worried about it. I just know that I need to start regularly exercising. 

Today shouldn’t be anything exciting. I have classes to teach, but I’ll be the only person working at the museum today. I also don’t have any plans for the weekend. The most exciting thing (and it’s not that exciting) is that I have some vacation time I need to take or lose by the end of May, so I’ll take a day off every Wednesday and Friday through the end of May.

There’s just nothing exciting or interesting for that matter to talk about, and you know what? I’m just fine with some quiet boring days when I can just be lazy and read a good book.


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Propaganda and the Male Aesthetic

Henry Cavill

The idealized male physique, often described as an “inverted triangle” or “V-taper,” features broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and a strong, muscular build with low body fat, a physique seen in many male athletes, models, and actors. The ideal male body has evolved throughout history, with earlier periods valuing strength and athleticism, and more recent times emphasizing a lean, muscular look. Media and social trends play a significant role in shaping perceptions of the “ideal” male physique.

The idealized male aesthetic—emphasizing physical perfection, muscularity, and strength—has long served as a powerful tool for propaganda, shaped and reshaped to fit the political and cultural needs of various societies throughout history. This image of the “perfect man” functions not only as a model of physical excellence but also as a symbol of ideological values: power, discipline, dominance, and purity.

Augustus of Prima Porta

The roots of the male aesthetic ideal can be traced back to ancient civilizations like Greece and Rome. In Classical Greece, the male body was idolized in art and sculpture (e.g., Polykleitos’ Doryphoros), representing harmony, rationality, and civic virtue. Strength was linked to moral integrity and democratic citizenship. Rome adapted this, associating the powerful male body with imperial authority and conquest, as seen in statues of emperors like Augustus, who were idealized as youthful and godlike.

The Renaissance revived classical ideals, presenting the strong male body as a symbol of divine beauty and human potential. Artists like Michelangelo, with his David, reinforced the link between physical strength and spiritual or moral superiority. This era celebrated the “universal man”—physically capable, intellectually refined, and culturally elite.

Arno Breker, The Great Torchbearer (1939)

As nationalism surged in the 19th century, the strong male body became central to shaping national identities. In Fascist Italy and Nazi Germany, propaganda weaponized the male aesthetic. Mussolini was often shown shirtless, working or posing, to convey virility, labor, and strength as core values of the state. Hitler’s regime promoted Aryan ideals through statues, films (like Leni Riefenstahl’s Olympia), and youth programs, equating physical perfection with racial superiority and moral righteousness.

“Worker and Kolkhoz Woman” was made by Vera Mukhina in 1937 for the World Fair in Paris. It was meant to overshadow the Nazi German pavilion that was located opposite to Russian pavilion in the fair.

In Soviet propaganda, the male worker or soldier, muscular and stoic, symbolized the power of the proletariat and the communist state. These images weren’t just about fitness—they were loaded with meaning: loyalty, discipline, and the ability to serve the state.

Even today, the muscular male figure continues to be used in propaganda, especially in authoritarian regimes. Leaders are often depicted engaging in rugged, physical activities—Vladimir Putin’s shirtless horse-riding is a modern example—projecting vitality, control, and masculinity as signs of leadership and national strength.

 

“For Your Boy” was one of many posters issued during World War I to encourage support of the war.

In the West, while the use of male aesthetics has shifted more toward consumer and celebrity culture, it still has political undercurrents. Military recruitment posters, sports ads, and action films all reinforce a vision of the male body as capable, heroic, and dominant.

Throughout history, the idealized male body has served not only as a cultural aspiration but also as a political weapon. Whether sculpted in marble or splashed across a billboard, it reflects the values and anxieties of the society that produces it—always more than flesh, always a symbol of something bigger.


Pic of the Day