When the Cross Becomes a Wall: A Call to Reclaim Christian Witness

Opinion

November 12, 2025

3:53 PM

Rural churches 3 crosses

Three crosses stand above the cemetery at Israel United Methodist Church near Montrose, W. Va., in 2015. (File photo by Mike DuBose, UM News.)

Oklahoma Conference | Nov. 12, 2025

In small towns across Oklahoma and beyond, it’s not uncommon to see towering crosses rise above the horizon—metal, wood, or neon declarations of Christian identity. Some communities even brand themselves as “Christian towns,” with signage, slogans, and symbols meant to proclaim faith. But I’ve come to believe that these displays, however well-meaning, often do more to close doors than open hearts.

Let me be clear: I am a disciple of Jesus Christ. I have given my life to ministry, to public witness, and to the sacred work of making every person feel beloved. But I do not believe that plastering a cross on every corner makes a town more Christlike. In fact, it may do the opposite.

When a community marks itself with religious symbols so prominently, it sends a message—not just of faith, but of exclusion. Those who do not identify as Christian may feel unwelcome, unsafe, or simply unseen. And if our goal is to live the life of Jesus, that should trouble us deeply.

Jesus did not build monuments. He built relationships. He did not demand belief before offering healing. He did not require conformity before sharing a meal. He crossed boundaries, sat with the outcast, and made space for the doubter, the wounded, and the stranger. If we claim to follow him, we must do the same.

A cross that towers over a town but refuses to bend toward the hurting is not a symbol of salvation—it’s a monument to control. And when communities use Christian branding to gatekeep grace, they risk becoming exactly what Jesus warned against: whitewashed tombs, beautiful on the outside but hollow within.

I say this not to condemn, but to call us back. Back to the messy, vulnerable, radical hospitality of the gospel. Back to the kind of discipleship that welcomes difference, wrestles with discomfort, and refuses to trade authenticity for approval.

If you are unwilling to engage people who are not like you—if your version of Christianity requires insulation from the world—then I must shake the dust from my feet and walk away. Not in anger, but in clarity. Because that is not the life of Jesus. That is the life of a Pharisee.

Let our towns be known not by the size of our crosses, but by the depth of our welcome. Let our witness be measured not in symbols, but in service. And let us remember that the gospel was never meant to be a brand. It was meant to be a blessing.

The Rev. Sharon Kay Cochran

The Rev. Sharon Kay Cochran is a licensed local pastor in the United Methodist Church, living in Watonga, Oklahoma and serving the Canton, Fay and Watonga UMCs. Her ministry is rooted in radical hospitality, public testimony, and communal restoration.

Comments (2)

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Troubled

I'm deeply troubled by this article. I'm troubled because of the lack of understanding about rural America, a rural America that still anchors the country, but a rural America that is disappearing. The statement, "A cross that towers over a town but refuses to bend toward the hurting is not a symbol of salvation—it’s a monument to control" does convey a loss. The church has lost it's way. A town overtowered by a cross is not the problem. . . it's the church not living in the power of the cross. The reality is many of those towns have lost their Christian distinctiveness. Small towns in America were symbolized by closeness, hospitality, generousity, and unity. But small towns have the same sins that big cities have. The sins that Paul writes about in First Corinthians were in the past hidden under the surface, perpetuated by a small group that did not respresent the values of the community. But now, rural America shares the sins that once lived only among the majority in America's big cities but spared rural America. But the big cities have exported their corinthian sins to rural America.

The crosses that hang over our small towns should be seen as an opportunity, not a threat. An opportunity to recapture the lost sense of community with shared values and a closeness that saw farmers harvest another sick farmers field, a hospitality that welcomed newcomers with loaf of bread or a pie and invitation to church, and a level of cthat said you can count on us to be there for you.

Recapturing the lost sense of community and with its "crazy love" and "All In" attitude says I'm a disciple of Jesus Christ, the creator and restorer, the one who loved you so much that he hung on a cross for you. Restoration bringings the opportunity to live out the Great Commission as commanded by Christ at the foot of that cross at the town's edge. It doesn't divide is says, "Welcome Home" to the lost and dying world.

Jeff 27 days ago

Thank You

Thank you for taking the time to read and respond so thoughtfully. I hear your love for rural America—and I share it. I live in a small town. I serve a small-town church. I know the beauty of neighbors showing up with casseroles and combines, of communities that rally around each other in times of need. I’ve lived it. I’ve been saved by it.

But I’ve also seen the other side. I’ve seen the crosses that tower over our towns while the people beneath them are turned away, ignored, or shamed. I’ve seen how symbols meant to proclaim welcome are used to draw lines instead. And I’ve heard from people—neighbors, not outsiders—who feel like those crosses don’t say “Welcome Home” to them at all.

You’re right: the problem isn’t the cross itself. It’s when the church forgets what the cross means. When we use it as a monument to our own dominance instead of a signpost to Christ’s self-giving love. When we forget that the power of the cross is not in its height, but in its humility.

I don’t believe rural America is beyond redemption. I believe it’s ripe for it. But redemption begins with truth-telling. And the truth is, some of our small towns have become places where the hurting don’t feel safe, where difference is met with suspicion, and where the cross has been co-opted by culture wars instead of gospel grace.

If the cross is to say “Welcome Home,” then we must live like we mean it. That means bending low, listening well, and loving without condition. That’s the kind of rural Christianity I believe in. That’s the kind of community I’m fighting for.

Let’s keep the conversation going—not to defend what was, but to imagine what could be.

Sharon Kay Cochran 23 days ago