The Cross and the Southern Cross: ANZAC Day and the Christian Soul of Sacrifice, By Brian Simpson

There is something sacred about standing in silence as the sun rises on ANZAC Day. The stillness speaks. It speaks of lives laid down, of promises kept, of a people who once understood that freedom is not the natural state of man—it is a gift, and it is won through sacrifice.

As a Christian and a proud Australian, I cannot separate ANZAC Day from the faith that shaped it. The very soul of ANZAC lies in something older than Gallipoli and deeper than patriotism. It lies in the Christian understanding of sacrifice, duty, and love for others above self.

"Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends." — John 15:13

That's not just a verse for funerals. It's the very heartbeat of ANZAC. The men who stormed those cliffs in 1915 weren't driven by empire alone, or by political orders from far-off offices. They were driven by something more primal and eternal: the love of their mates, the defence of their homeland, and a sense—often unspoken—that there is something worth dying for.

Where do you think they learned that? From their schools? Maybe. From the newspapers? Occasionally. But most of them learned it at the dinner table, or in the pew, or with a Bible on their bedside. Australia was once a nation where Christian virtue wasn't just personal—it was cultural. It formed our backbone. The ANZACs were not perfect men, but they were formed by the Word of God and the fear of the Lord, and that made them different.

Their sacrifice echoes the shape of the Cross.

"For even the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many." — Mark 10:45

Christ's sacrifice was once the cornerstone of Western civilisation. It taught our fathers that the highest honour wasn't in conquest, but in selflessness. That honour is found not in what a man gains for himself, but in what he gives up for others. That idea—the Gospel idea—shaped the ANZAC spirit.

And we have forgotten it.

In a world now ruled by individualism, moral relativism, and globalist ideologies, sacrifice is no longer admired—it is avoided. Our society scoffs at duty, shrinks from hardship, and tells young men to "look after number one." We are raising generations who know everything about rights and nothing about responsibility.

But the ANZACs knew responsibility. They carried it with them through mud, bullets, and unbearable loss. And many of them did so with Scripture in their hearts, psalms on their lips, and the Cross as their compass.

ANZAC Day is not just a memorial of what was, but a mirror of what we have become. It is a call to return—not just to arms, but to righteousness.

"Righteousness exalts a nation, but sin is a disgrace to any people." — Proverbs 14:34

We cannot hope to honour their memory if we refuse to walk in their footsteps. And we cannot walk in their footsteps if we forget the foundation upon which they stood: the Lordship of Jesus Christ, the sanctity of life, the nobility of sacrifice, and the duty of men to protect, provide, and lead.

This ANZAC Day, as we remember their courage, let us also remember our calling. The fight today is not only against foreign threats—it is against moral decay. Against a culture that mocks faith, weakens men, and dissolves the very things our forebears died to protect.

Let ANZAC Day be more than a ceremony. Let it be a renewal of faith, a reclaiming of manhood, and a declaration that we will once again be a people formed by the Cross, not by convenience.

"Be watchful, stand firm in the faith, act like men, be strong." — 1 Corinthians 16:13

The spirit of the ANZACs lives on—not in parades alone, but in every man who kneels before his God, takes up his duty, and stands ready to protect what is good, true, and holy.

Lest we forget—not only their sacrifice, but the Saviour who showed us how to live and die as Christians.