Curious Christian

This cross is part of the Galloway Hoard, a Viking Age collection buried in the soil of Scotland—hidden, perhaps hoarded, in a time of conflict and conversion. It’s silver, gilded, knotted with wire like a relic caught in a tangle of time.

What strikes me isn’t just the craftsmanship, though it’s extraordinary. It’s the symbolism. A Christian cross, likely from the 9th or 10th century, found alongside objects from across the Norse and Anglo-Saxon worlds. It carries both devotion and disruption.

Was it worn by a follower of Christ? Taken in war? Stolen, salvaged, or secretly kept? We don’t know. But the object remains, held in tension—beauty and violence, worship and war, metal shaped by hands and stories we’ll never fully trace.

And maybe that’s the deeper resonance. Faith isn’t always clean. It’s not always easy to separate what was given in love from what was taken by force. This cross reminds me that the gospel has often traveled tangled routes. Yet even buried, even wrapped in contradiction, the shape of the cross persists. Quiet, enduring. Still calling.