If you’ve taken a look around my blog or seen some of my personal writings, you might have noticed a unique symbol I use to represent my spiritual path: the Pentacross. It’s exactly what it sounds like—a Christian cross integrated with a five-pointed pentagram. At first glance, mixing those two symbols might raise a few eyebrows. People often assume the cross belongs strictly to traditional churches and the pentagram belongs to modern paganism or magic. And while Evangelical Quakers wear and have the cross in their churches, liberal and conservative Quakers keep to the ancient testimony eschewing outward symbols. Indeed, Early Friends objected to the cross as jewelry calling it “the dead cross.” But for me, combining them isn't about being controversial. It’s about creating a symbol that honestly reflects a blended, personal journey. And the symbol is only dead if it doesn’t point to a living reality in me.
It also got me thinking about how early mystics, like the Gnostics, would look at a symbol like this (I’ve recently begun including Gnostic chants into my meditation practice). Most of us grew up seeing the cross as a symbol of sacrifice, pain, or standard church tradition. But the early Gnostics—mystics who focused on personal, direct spiritual experience rather than rigid dogma—saw it quite differently. To them, the cross wasn't just a wooden instrument of death. They spoke of a "Cross of Light," viewing it as a cosmic doorway or a boundary separating the heavy, physical world we live in from the pure, divine reality beyond. It represented the path we walk as we navigate through life. Also,( the equal armed cross symbolized the four elements in Gnostic circles.
The pentagram, on the other hand, often gets a bad press, but its oldest meaning is actually deeply uplifting. When pointed upward, its five points represent the spirit standing above the four basic elements of nature: earth, air, fire, and water. In mystic traditions, that top point represents the divine spark—that quiet, inner piece of sacred light that lives inside every human soul, waiting to wake up.
It turns out the pentagram actually has deep Christian roots that most people don't know about. Back in the Middle Ages and up through the Renaissance, Christians used the five-pointed star as a holy symbol to represent the Five Wounds of Christ on the cross. Because you can draw it in one continuous line, they called it the "Endless Knot" and saw it as a sign of eternity and divine protection. You could find it carved into cathedral stone, marked over doorways to keep away bad energy, or even painted on knights' shields as a symbol of faith and honor. It wasn't until fairly recently—mainly in the 1800s and 1900s—that pop culture flipped the script on it, completely burying a thousand years of Christian history where it was just seen as a symbol of grace and protection.
That idea of an inner spark connects beautifully with liberal Quakerism. Quaker tradition centers around the concept of "That of God in everyone"—the Light Within that speaks to us directly without needing creed, clergy, or rigid doctrine. Liberal Quakerism thrives on continuing revelation and open search, making room for individual conscience and diverse spiritual language. Bringing the Pentacross into that framework feels completely natural: it honors the Christian roots of the Light while holding space for broader mystical insights, reflecting a faith rooted in quiet contemplation, equality, and listening to the inner guide.
When you bring those symbols together into a Pentacross, you get a powerful visual story. The pentagram represents the inner soul, the part of us that remembers we are more than just physical bodies. The cross represents the map and the journey, the physical world we have to navigate every day. Joined together, the symbol becomes a marker of awakening. It serves as a daily reminder that we can walk through the practical, everyday world while keeping our spirit firmly in charge.
Ultimately, spiritual journeys are rarely neat or linear. My sponsor says I’m inclined to “esoteric meandering” 😏Many of us draw wisdom from different traditions, finding truth in unexpected places. The early mystics were constantly searching for hidden wisdom across different cultures, and blending symbols is a tradition as old as faith itself. The Pentacross is simply my way of marking the map—a personal emblem for finding balance, honoring the inner spirit, and walking a unique path with confidence.
How does this sit with your experience as a Christian (orthodox or not), a Quaker (especially liberal) or a fellow seeker?
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