When I was a child, I sang the hymn “In the Cross of Christ I Glory” by the British diplomat, imperial administrator, and poet, John Bowring, a Unitarian layman. With him I sang of Christ’s cross as it towered over the wrecks of time and shone its glorious light around his head sublime. Its radiance added luster to the day. When I got a bit older, we began to sing “Lift High the Cross,” with a text from two Anglican priests, George W. Kitchin and Michael R. Newbolt. It summoned the world to adore Christ’s sacred name, for he is victorious and leads his people in conquering ranks against death and hell. Kyle Borcherding glories in a cross that has blood running down it, with a weak, suffering, scorned, shamed, dethroned man on it, a man whose throne is in fact in heaven at the right hand of his and our heavenly Father. And Borcherding expects us to find glory there.