The cross. The piece of jewelry that so many people wear around their necks nowadays, usually in combination with an obnoxiously big gold chain. The "sign" that Catholics make when they genuflect at the side of a pew in a highly decorated church. The wooden thing that KKK devotees burn in their victim's front yards. The place TuPac was hanging from on the cover of one of his latest albums.

Oh, the all-important cross. It can be seen now in Family Dollar wrapped in a purple cardboard box, made of white chocolate, surrounded by Cadbury Cream Eggs and Maas Egg Coloring Kits. Placed in the middle of chocolate bunny rabbits, marshmallow chicks and fake plastic grass, I believe it's selling for $1.99 plus 7.5% Florida sales tax.

I realized Easter was coming up too late. I had overlooked the most common signs: the sudden increase in available chocolate goodies, the airing of "life of Jesus" specials on TBS and TNT, the Rugrats Passover Special on Nickelodeon, and various fliers announcing Easter Egg Hunts seen on Tal-tran buses. It just wasn't high on my list of priorities this year. I had projects due in almost all of my classes and my mind was on the quickest way to write three papers in one day.

Then suddenly, it hit me. I went to church last Sunday and realized that somehow, I had missed Lent and it was Palm Sunday. The seven-day countdown to Easter had begun.

Somewhere between the Sunday school lesson on Jesus riding into Jerusalem and class Monday morning, I began to think about Easter. I began to think about the common attitude of Christians around Easter: don't portray Christ on a cross, because it's a defeatist attitude. Portray Christ arisen. That's the meaning of Easter.

I'm no theologian, but I think they're wrong. It was the redemptive work of the cross that enables us to be saved.

This Easter, I'm not going to forget what lead up to the resurrection. I'm not going to forget the road to the cross.

This year, I'm not going to forget what happened before the resurrection.

I'm not going to forget how Jesus rode into Jerusalem and essentially declared himself a king before the people. I'm not going to forget the people who strewed palm branches at his feet and yelled Hosanna. I will look back on it and remember that my Savior reigns.

I'm not going to forget how he cried over the temple. I will look into the depths of my mind and try to see the tears that streamed down his face, and I will see that my Savior loves his people. I'll also remember how he overturned the tables of the merchants and moneychangers in the temple the next time I bite into a Cadbury Cream Egg, and see that my Savior refuses to condone the exploitation of his people when they come to worship Him.

I'm not going to forget how he reacted when Mary poured the ointment over his head. I won't forget how he rebuked Judas. I'll see a prostitute washing his feet with her tears and drying his feet with her hair and remember that my Savior appreciates sincere worship and true sacrifice, regardless of a person's background.

I'm not going to forget how he washed his disciples' feet, even as they quarreled over whom was going to be the greatest among them. I'll see the confusion on the face of the disciples and the humility in his actions, and remember that my Savior was also a servant.

I'm not going to forget how he broke bread with his disciples and passed the cup of wine. I'll remember his words: "This is my body. This is the cup of my blood." I'll take communion on Easter Sunday and remember that my Savior gave the greatest sacrifice he could give: himself.

I'm not going to forget how he prayed in the Garden of Gethsemene. I remember that before he did anything else, he prayed. I'll see the blood run like sweat from his pores and remember that my Savior was willing to do the will of God regardless of the cost. I'll also see that even in his hour of deepest despair, he thought of me.

I'm not going to forget how his disciples deserted and denied him. I'll see them running from him, leaving him to take his fate alone, and remember how I've deserted him time and time again. I'll note how he still appeared to them, and sent the Holy Spirit to them, and remember that my Savior always lets his prodigal sons come home.

I'm not going to forget how he was treated in the hands of the people. I'll try not to close my mind's eye to the sight of Caiphas slapping him, soldiers mocking him, people placing a crown of thorns on his head. I'll force myself to watch as they strip him and tie him to a whipping post. I'll see the pain on his face as they give him lash after lash -- 39 of them. I'll watch as even Pilate washes his hands of him and the crowds who shouted Hosanna --(save us)-- yell for a murderer in his place. I'll watch as they force him to march down a narrow, crowded street, almost dead on his feet. I'll keep my eyes open as they pierce his hands and feet, and then mock a thirsty man with vinegar instead of water. I'll remember how he still insisted that his Father "forgive them, for they know not what they do" and remember that my Savior blesses those that despitefully curse him.

I'll remember. And when people sing of his resurrection I will rejoice all the more because I will remember. I will see him overcome the grave. I will see him arise with all power over death. But I will also see the stripes on his back that allow me to be healed. I will see the broken body sacrificed for me, and the blood that redeemed me. I will see the most poignant message he ever spoke, for he spoke without words. Forgive your enemies. Bless those that curse and misuse you. And above all, let God's will be done. I will remember. I will the splendor of his glorification and remember what it took to get there. I will see the example that my Savior set for me.

Finally, I will see the true meaning of Easter. It is more than the resurrection. It is the story of the cross.

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