His name was “Simon.” It means “God has Heard.” And today it would certainly seem that God had heard his many, many prayers. Today was the day that he and his two boys, Alexander and Rufus, would finally get to see Jerusalem, the mighty and holy city of God, with their own eyes. All of his life he had dreamed of the day when he would get to enter the gates of Jerusalem … to stand on the very mountain where Abraham almost sacrificed his only son, Isaac … the city that King David made his capital … the place where King Solomon built the first. They were going to walk the very streets where Jeremiah and Isaiah prophesized … touch the very walls that Nehemiah had rebuilt. Jerusalem … the very center of the Jewish world.
Although the city was filled with history, the thing that they wanted to see the most was the new Temple … “Herod’s Temple.” It was called that because old King Herod had expanded and remodeled the old Temple before he went mad with suspicion. Work on it had begun several decades ago. The main structure was done but some of the perimeter areas were still under construction. While it was not widely recognized as one of the great wonders of the world … like the pyramids of Egypt ... the Colossus of Rhoades … or the Temple of Aphrodite in Ephesus … it was the most endearing and most important, most impressive and beautiful structure in the world for all the descendants of Abraham.
You might say that Jerusalem was Simon’s most favorite place in the world … even though he had never been there before. But God had heard his prayers and now, not only was he there … in Jerusalem … but he was there with his two sons during an amazing time … Passover!
Historians estimate that as many as 100,000 pilgrims would come to Jerusalem to celebrate the Seder or Passover festival in Simon’s day. Those who lived close enough could attend the festival every year. For others, like Simon, however, it was a once-in-a-lifetime dream come true. I would hazard a guess that seeing Jerusalem with his own eyes was the first … and possibly the only item … on Simon’s “bucket list.”
The fact that Simon was there was no small feat! You see, Simon was from the city of Cyrene … which was the capital city of the district of Cyrenaica in Northern Africa. There were many Jews in Cyrene. Over the centuries, hardship and warfare had forced many Jews to flee and spread out all over Northern Africa, the Mediterranean, and central Europe. At the time that Simon lived there, the Jewish population in Cyrene numbered in the tens of thousands. Even so, his people were a minority in the area. While far from the land promised to Abraham thousands of years ago, they worked hard to observe the traditions and practices of their people and preserve their heritage.
Ever since he was a boy, Simon and his family observed Passover. When he was the youngest at the dinner table, he would ask the opening questions, beginning with: “What makes this night different from all the others?” And each year he would be mesmerized by the story of how God used Moses and the 10 plagues to break down Pharaoh to the point that he finally let the Hebrew slaves go. He would get a chill down his spine when he would hear about the Passover lamb, whose blood was placed over each family’s door so that the Lord’s Angel of Death would “pass over” that home. At the end of every Passover celebration, Simon and his family would declare: “Next year in Jerusalem.”
“Next year in Jerusalem.” What a dream! He could picture it in his mind. He didn’t have picture books or postcards or the internet to show him images of what Jerusalem looked like. All he had were the descriptions that he had heard from the neighbors and the town folks who had actually gone to Jerusalem and seen the Temple. They would describe their experience in vivid detail. They described support columns so massive that it took three men with outstretched arms to embrace one. Simon would listen intently, hanging on their every word, as they described how the outside of the Temple was covered with so much gold that it blazed like fire in the noonday sun and you couldn’t look directly at it with out hurting your eyes. He would picture the priests going about their duties in robes made of the finest linen. He tried to imagine the walls of the Temple. which were over a hundred feet tall. Every time he heard these stories, it made him want to go more and more. Just to see Jerusalem would have been a dream come true but to be there during Passover … well … he didn’t even dare to think that such a thing was possible.
“Next year in Jerusalem.” That sounded so wonderful. The only problem was that Jerusalem was over 800 miles away. To make such a pilgrimage would take a lot of time … over a month by foot … over another month on the way back … and it would cost a lot of money … but Simon was determined to see his dream become reality. So, he began saving … a little bit here … a coin or two there … every time money came into his hands. Eventually his pouch became heavy enough and full enough for him to make the trip and take his two sons with him.
He arranged to have someone take care of the family business while he was gone. His parents and siblings couldn’t understand why he would want to make such a long, arduous, dangerous journey … nor did they volunteer to go with him.
Finally, the day of departure came. It was a month before Passover. It might take only a few weeks to reach Jerusalem but he wanted to add in some extra time in case there was trouble or delays. He wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of his pilgrimage.
Simon and his sons packed what they could carry and set off. The city of Cyrene was located along the coast of the Mediterranean Sea, so the route was pretty straightforward. Simon went to the city docks and booked passage on a ship sailing to Joppa, which was located on the Palestinian coast. Joppa was the port that Jonah had sailed from before being swallowed by a great fish … a story that Simon told to his sons as they settled down on the ship and began their journey. Simon couldn’t help but point out the irony to his sons that Jonah had sailed from Joppa to run away from God and here they were sailing towards Joppa in order to experience and encounter God in a meaningful way. Once they reached Joppa, Simon and his sons would walk 35 miles inland to the city of Jerusalem.
Most of the people on the ship were crew, but several were fellow pilgrims going to Jerusalem for the Passover … including several who had been there before. As they passed the long days onboard ship, they told Simon and his sons a bit of what to expect … like massive crowds of enthusiastic worshippers … pilgrims from all over the region singing Passover hymns with such joy and intensity that they’d think the very angels themselves had joined in the celebration … and, of course, lots of Roman guards everywhere keeping a close watch on everywhere. Of course, their new friends’ discussions and descriptions only intensified and increased Simon’s eagerness to get there and experience these things for himself.
After stopping at several ports to load and unload cargo and passengers, they finally docked in Joppa and begin their walk to Jerusalem. It was the 12th day of Nissan … two days before the Passover lambs were to be slaughtered … just enough time to make the two-day walk to Jerusalem.
On the first day, Simon and his sons linked up with some of the other pilgrims and made camp just outside of Jerusalem. The roads were too dangerous to travel alone or at night, but the next morning … at the crack of first daylight … when it was bright enough to see the road, Simon and his sons, Alexander and Rufus, hit the road and headed east towards their long awaited goal … Jerusalem. Along the dusty road, he strained his eyes as he looked into the distance ahead to catch his first glimpse of the holy city of God!
Jerusalem set up on a hill … Mt. Moriah … but mountains, some as tall as Mt. Moriah, also surrounded it. So, when Simon turned a corner and finally got his first good look at Jerusalem, he was not just looking at the city but down on it … and it was magnificent. It was more beautiful and breath-taking than he could have imagined. And right in the very middle of it was God’s house … the Temple. It was huge … much, much bigger than he pictured in his mind … it dominated the whole city. In its heart was the Holy of Holies. The gold that adorned the outside of the Temple blazed bright in the noon day sun, making the Temple look like it was on fire!
Simon covered the last mile as fast as his feet could carry him. The closer he got to the city, the more crowded the road became. Finally, he was at the Joppa or western gate. Passing through the gate and entering the city, he soon found himself caught up in the flow of the crowd walking past shops and vendors lining the narrow streets. He reminded his sons to stay close by his side. It would be easy to get swept up in the busy crowd and get lost in this big, unfamiliar city full of pilgrims.
The sights … the smells … the crowds … it was everything he had imagined it would be and more. As he tried to take it all in, he heard the sound of a disturbance up ahead. People were shouting and moving to the sides of the streets to let what appeared to be a procession squeeze through.
Neither his stomach nor his eyes were prepared for what he saw … three men … beaten … bloody … staggering and struggling as they tried to carry huge wooden beams on their shoulders. One of them had what looked like a wreath made of thorns pressed on top of his head … his face covered in blood. Several Roman soldiers were shouting at them, pushing them and occasionally striking them across their backs and legs with whips. He involuntarily winced every time he heard the sound of their whips cracking and striking human flesh and the men groan in pain … too weak to cry out.
Simon was horrified by the sight. This was supposed to be a happy trip … a dream come true … Passover in Jerusalem … and now he has to step aside for what could only be described as a “death march.” He recognized the wooden beams that they were carrying and realized that they were on their way somewhere outside of the city to be crucified.
The anger of the crowd was palpable. The intense shouts and jeers of the crowd seemed to be primarily directed towards the man who was bringing up the end of the procession … the one wearing a crown of thorns. He appeared to be in the worse shape of the three … barely able to put one foot in front of the other … the weight of the wooden crossbeam too much for him to carry. A Roman soldier walked in front of Him, carrying a sign written in Greek, Hebrew, and Latin that read: “Jesus of Nazareth – King of the Jews.” The sign puzzled him. He hadn’t heard there was a new “king of the Jews.” As far he knew, Herod still held that title. And yet, if this poor soul were the “King of the Jews” … why was he so beaten and bloody … and why was everyone shouting and cursing him and calling for his death?
The “King of the Jews” staggered and dropped to His knees. The Roman guards showed Him no mercy … they beat Him and kicked Him until He slowly dragged Himself back up to His feet. It was a horrible thing to see … just horrible. He had never seen anything so cruel in his life.
Simon turned to the old man standing next to him and asked him who this poor man was and why everyone was so upset with Him. What had he done that deserved such brutal treatment and such scorn from the crowds?
The old man replied: “Have you not heard of the prophet from Nazareth … named Jesus? Today He is being crucified.”
“If He is a prophet,” Simon asked, “what crimes has he committed that were so horrible as to deserved crucifixion?”
The old man’s head dropped … along with his voice: “This man has committed no crimes. You see the sign? The religious leaders consider Him a threat because He said He is the Messiah … the Promised Anointed One sent from God. They say that He is guilty of great, unspeakable blasphemy against the Temple and against God.”
Their conversation was interrupted by the gasp of the crowd. Simon looked up to see what had happened. This Jesus of Nazareth had fallen again and was practically lying at his feet. Before Simon had time to assess the situation or process the horror of the scene before him, one of the Roman guards grabbed him by the neck and ordered him to pick up the bloody, wooden crossbeam lying at his feet. He looked back at the terrified faces of his two sons, who watched in helpless horror as the guard began shoving their father down the street with this huge, blood-soaked piece of lumber on his shoulders. They pressed their way through the screaming crowds trying to keep their eyes on their father so they wouldn’t get lost.
Why did he get tagged for this grizzly chore? Was it simply fate? Jesus had fallen at his feet. Did the guard choose him simply because he was the only one at that particular spot who looked strong enough to carry such a heavy piece of wood the rest of the way to Golgotha … The Place of the Skull? Was it bad luck? Circumstance? Or was he chosen … not by the guard but by God, who wanted him to carry the burden of the cross on his shoulders so that Jesus could carry the infinitely heavier burden of the world’s sins on His shoulders on His way to “The Place of the Skull.”
However it happened, it happened. Simon didn’t have a choice. A soldier with a whip and a sword ordered him to carry this poor soul’s crossbeam. All of a sudden, Simon found himself playing a principle role in the execution of a man he had never met nor heard of before.
What was horrible before got even more horrible … beyond anything he could have ever imagined. The crossbeam was heavy and covered in blood … new blood, wet blood from Jesus’ wounds and old, dried up blood from the victim of previous crucifixions. It had a unique and foul odor.
Blood. He had it on his hands, his neck, his clothes … rendering him unclean and unable to enter the Temple … the Temple, where he had scrimped and saved for so many years so that he could worship there … the Temple, where he had traveled for weeks with his sons so that he could be a part of the Passover sacrifices and celebrations. Now he was “unclean” and unable to participate in the Passover as he had planned.
And the crowds. The angry crowds calling out for blood … only now they were yelling at him … mistaking him for this Jesus character because he was carrying the bloody crossbeam through the streets of Jerusalem on his way to Golgotha … a place he had never planned on visiting during his pilgrimage to Jerusalem. Oh, how he wished the Roman guard wasn’t walking in front of him making him appear as though he were the criminal.
What would those who had seen what happened think? Would they view his actions as involuntary? An act of charity? Lending a hand to the Roman soldiers? Would he be seen as helping out the enemy of Israel at the expense of one of their own … this prophet from Nazareth?
And what about his sons? His dear, innocent sons? They were now witnesses and a part of this too. This was a scene of madness and horror for him, he couldn’t imagine what kind of impression or effect this would have on his two boys.
But what could he do? He had no choice. He had to pick up the crossbeam. He hated to think what would have happened to him and his two boys if he didn’t … so he did what he had to. How ironic. How sad. The very place that he had always wanted to see was now the very last place on earth he wanted to be.
People. People everywhere. Some leading … some following … some were shouting ... a few spat on him … a handful were crying … and there, in the middle of it all, was Simon … a nameless, unknown pilgrim from Cyrene. Swept up in this insane crowd, he was being led away from the Temple to outside of the city … from a place of worship and sacrifice and music and celebration and joy to a place of death, a place of execution, a place of sacrifice for the Roman order, a place of deep sadness and grief.
As Simon struggled up the hill to Golgotha, Jesus’ blood mingled with his own sweat. At one point, he looked over at the condemned man who’s cross he was carrying and he saw the man staring back at him. What he saw in Jesus’ eyes would change him forever.
He didn’t see defeat. He didn’t see anger or remorse. What he saw was … well …a strange look of relief … of gratitude, maybe. He clearly saw compassion in Jesus’ eyes … eyes that seemed to look right into his heart … to penetrate his very soul. Bloody … staggering … barely alive … could it be that Simon saw love in this man’s eyes? Simon began to wonder if what the old man had said was true … that this beaten, bruised, bleeding man was not only innocent but the Messiah sent from God?
When they finally reached the top of Golgotha, the Skull, the soldiers told Simon he could drop his burden and leave. The crossbeam hit the ground with a sickening thud. Simon was free to go … but he didn’t. He couldn’t. Instead, he drifted back in to the crowd that had gathered around Jesus and the three crosses, and watched … watched as the soldiers laid Jesus down, spread out his arms, and nailed him to the crossbeam. He felt every blow of the hammer as they drove the rough spikes through Jesus’ hands. He held his breath as he watched them hoist Jesus spread-eagle up the pole that would now become a cross. He again winced when they grabbed his feet, forced one on top of the other, and drove a nail through them. He stood there and listened to the mocking jeers of the crowd as Jesus hung between Heaven and earth.
And then, somehow, drawing strength from somewhere, Jesus cried out: “Father … forgive them for they know not what they do.” And then He breathed His last.
Simon left Golgotha. He never made it to the Temple. He had seen enough sacrifice for the day. He just couldn’t bring himself to celebrate the sacrifice of lambs after what he had seen and experienced in the streets of Jerusalem and on the top of Golgotha. His soul … his heart … was troubled.
Later that night, Simon noticed something in his hand ... a rough splinter that had come off the cross while he was carrying it. He pulled it out and wrapped it carefully in a cloth. When he got home to Cyrene, all his family and friends asked him about his trip. How could he explain it to them? The memory clung to him but he had no words to describe it … just a tiny piece of wood to remind him of that fateful day … a day that he would spend the rest of his life struggling to make sense of. And those eyes … he would never forget those eyes.
I confess that most of what I said about Simon obviously is beyond what is told in the scriptures. Simon is mentioned in Matthew, Mark, and Luke … but Mark’s description is representative of all that we know about Simon of Cyrene …
“A certain man from Cyrene, Simon, the father of Alexander and Rufus, was passing by on his way in from the country and they forced him to carry the cross. Then they brought Jesus to the place called Golgotha (which means “The Place of the Skull)” (Mark 15:21-22).
We do not know exactly how long the walk was nor what Jesus and Simon said … or did not say … to each other … but we know that Simon saw how perfect love and grace responded to cruelty and injustice.
When Simon woke up that fateful morning, I doubt very much that he expected to be carrying someone’s cross, do you? To be honest, he never would have carried that cross if he had not been forced to. Would you? And yet, Jesus calls us to pick up our crosses daily and follow Him (Luke 9:23).
Some people find the cross … sometimes the cross finds you. Simon had a divine appointment with God that day … and sometimes He makes divine appointments with us. Like Simon, these may involve tasks we would prefer not to do, but … like Simon … these often lead to some of life’s greatest blessings.
As pastor and author A.W. Tozer once said: “Among the plastic saints of our times, Jesus has to do all the dying … and all we want to hear is another sermon about His dying.” Hearing about Jesus’ carrying the cross is much more palatable, much less challenging than hearing about having to pick up and carry our own crosses, amen?
Simon didn’t have a choice … he was forced to pick up Jesus’ cross … but we do have a choice. Simon didn’t pick up his own cross … he helped Jesus to carry His. But Jesus says that if we are to be His disciples … if we are to follow Him … we must pick up our own crosses. Your cross … not somebody else’s. Someone else’s cross may be very different from your cross. What God is asking them of them might be very different from what He is asking of you. God may ask you to give up secular music … but it might be all right for somebody else. God may be asking you to give up drinking alcohol all together … He may not ask someone else to give up alcohol but He may be asking them to give up over-eating or pornography or cheating or one-night stands. God may lead someone down one road and someone else down another … and that’s okay.
You need to carry your own cross. You need to let God lead you wherever He wants. This isn’t about getting saved by what Jesus did and then earning your salvation by works. This is not about earning salvation. This is about God continuing to save you throughout your whole life … continually throwing off the sin that so easily entangles … getting rid of the things in your life that displease God.
In Luke 9, Jesus said that we need to take up our crosses daily. Daily! He’s not talking about a once-and-for-all thing but a commitment that we make every day. Jesus wants you to follow Him … today! Jesus wants you to say “no” to your plans and “yes” to His … today! Jesus wants you to make Him your number one priority … today!
This isn’t about a decision that you made years ago … as good, as great, and as important as that was. That decision was just a step … the first step on a life-long journey with Jesus. As good, as great, as important as that decision was back then, Jesus wants you to commit yourself to Him … today. Jesus wants you to commit to him … tomorrow. Jesus wants you to commit to Him the day after that … and the day after that … and the day after that … amen? Think you can commit to that? Then let’s take a moment or two to ask God if there is somewhere that He wants us to go … something He that He wants us to do … something that He wants us to stop … something that He wants us to start… [long pause].
Dear Lord:
• Today You are calling us to pick up our crosses and follow You.
• Today You want us to say “no” to our plans and “yes” to Yours.
• Today You want us to make you our Number One priority.
• Is there somewhere You want us to go?
• Is there something You want us to do?
• Is there something You want us to stop?
• Is there something You want us to start?
• Help us … help us to have the strength and resolve to accept our crosses.
• Let our “yes” be truly “yes”!
• Yes to Your way.
• Yes to Your will
• Yes because we love You … because we trust You … because we want to obey You.
• When You call us, give us strength, give us courage through the power of Your Holy Spirit so that our “yes” is truly “yes”.
• In Jesus’ name, who calls us to service daily, we pray.
• And would all who are willing to answer Jesus’ call to pick up our crosses daily make it so by saying with me … amen!
