Dear all,

I visited Lastingham in the North York Moors the other week. The picture book village is not far from Pickering, a few miles off the beaten track and the A170. There’s a very pleasant pub, a small village hall, cottages fronted by country gardens, and a church.

But not just ‘any’ church. Lastingham church is one of the oldest stone churches in the country. It was founded in the 7^th century by two brothers (both of whom were made saints) Saint Chad and St Cedd. They were Celtic Christians. The Celts were one of the first whole peoples to convert to Christianity and their missionaries climbed into coracles from Ireland to bring the gospel to the south of what we now call Scotland, across to the Northumbrian Coast to Lindisfarne and then down into Yorkshire and beyond.

Lastingham church is built over a crypt. A holy place, it now holds various stones from Anglo Saxon and Viking times: a ‘hogs back tomb’ and stone uprights that supported crosses that used to mark the way out on the Moors centuries ago. But one item stood out for me: a cross head. The top of a huge stone cross. It has been calculated that, because of the cross head’s size, it would have stood on top of a stone pillar that was at least 20 feet high. A decorated cross, stood in the middle of nowhere out on the North York Moors.

Why did the Celts erect these stone crosses? Apparently, before their conversion to Christianity the Celts placed great value in two things: sacred places and things (particularly trees) and heroic warriors or champions whose names were remembered in their sagas. And so Christian missionaries knit these two things together in speaking of Jesus Christ. In their preaching the cross that Jesus died on was akin to a tree: a sacred place, a sacred thing. And the Jesus who died on the cross was presented as a great warrior who took on the chaos, uncertainty and darkness of the world, who battled against the brutality of the sin and evil that had nailed him to the cross and overcame it through the strength of his love. These stone crosses were set up in places to remind people that light overcomes darkness, that hope casts out fear and that love is stronger than death. Such a different image from the suffering Jesus of much of western Christianity. Jesus goes into battle for us as our champion, and triumphs.

In these days following the great Feast of the Ascension we remember that, for all the world’s troubles and (indeed) for all that might trouble us, Jesus is Lord. Our champion has won a decisive victory over all that separates us from God and one another and we are called to serve him with the weapons he gives us of faith, hope and love.

Alec