The Red Cross: A Reflection for Good Friday on the Elizabeth Line

The Red Cross: A Reflection for Good Friday on the Elizabeth Line

This morning, as I made my way to church on Good Friday, I found myself on the Elizabeth line. On the Elizabeth line, due to some of the short platforms along the route, not all the train doors open at certain stations. These doors are marked clearly with a red cross, a symbol advising passengers that the doors are closed and that they cannot exit.

It struck me how powerful that symbol is.

A red cross, a warning, no exit.

But today, on Good Friday, we’re drawn to a different cross.

A wooden cross. A bloodied cross. A red cross of another kind.

That cross stood not as a warning of a closed door, but as the very means by which the way was opened. It didn’t block an exit—it became the exit. The exit from our sin, our shame, our burdens. The way out of death into life. The route from despair to hope. From guilt to grace.

On the Elizabeth line, the red cross marks where you can’t go.

On Calvary’s hill, the red cross marks where you can.

This paradox hits hard on Good Friday. The place of execution became the place of liberation. The instrument of death became the door to eternal life.

So, what does that mean for you and me today as we reflect on the cross?

It means that no matter how many dead ends we face in life, no matter how many doors seem closed or how trapped we may feel—there is always a way open through Jesus.

The train may stop. The door may not open. The red cross might say “no exit”. But on this Good Friday, the red cross of Jesus says:

“Come. The way is open.”