Carry the Cross

Read

Luke 14:27 “And whoever does not carry their cross and follow me cannot be my disciple.”

Think

Most of us don’t wear crosses because we’re planning to die on one. We wear them as symbols—on necklaces, on tattoos, on T-shirts. They represent faith, hope, identity.

But when Jesus first said these words in Luke 14, nobody saw the cross that way. It wasn’t a sentimental emblem. It wasn’t jewelry. It was an execution device.

In the Roman world, carrying your cross meant one thing: your life was over. You had no more say. You were no longer your own. You were walking the road of death—slowly, painfully, publicly. It was total surrender, often with total shame.

And Jesus says that’s what discipleship looks like.

It’s a jarring metaphor. Especially for people like us who are used to convenience. We follow restaurants on Instagram. We follow workouts on YouTube. But Jesus isn’t asking us to follow like a subscriber. He’s asking us to follow like a servant walking to the place of surrender.

Let’s be honest—this part of the gospel doesn’t get much airtime. We love talking about purpose, blessing, peace, and joy. And those things are all real. But they come through the cross, not around it.

This is where cultural Christianity often short-circuits the call of Jesus. We want the rewards of following Jesus without the cost. We want a Savior, not a sacrifice. We want grace, but we’d rather skip crucifixion.

But Jesus doesn’t offer a half-life. He says, “If you’re going to follow me, bring your cross.”

This isn’t about suffering for suffering’s sake. It’s about dying to the version of you that wants control. The part of you that still wants to call the shots, protect your reputation, keep your options open. Carrying your cross means that part dies—daily.

Think of it like this: the cross is not a decoration for your life. It’s a demolition of your old one. It’s a total reset of your value system.

And it’s not just one big moment of sacrifice either. It’s a thousand small ones.

Choosing honesty when a lie would protect you. Staying faithful when no one sees. Loving the person who’s hurt you. Giving when it costs. Serving when you’re tired. Forgiving when you’d rather hang onto bitterness.

Each of those moments is a cross you carry—not to earn salvation, but to live out the salvation you’ve already received.

It’s a little like spiritual weight training. No one walks into a gym and deadlifts 400 pounds on day one. But with repetition—under pressure, over time—your strength builds. Same with faith. Every time you pick up your cross in daily obedience, even when it feels small, something inside you gets stronger. Your desires get reshaped. Your instincts get rewired. Your love deepens.

But here’s the tension: carrying a cross won’t make sense to the people around you.

To them, it might look foolish. Like you’re giving up freedom, happiness, or self-expression. Why submit to a God you can’t see? Why live by outdated convictions? Why stay committed when bailing is easier?

Because they don’t see what you see.

They don’t see the resurrection on the other side of the cross.

They don’t see the power that comes from dying to self.

They don’t see the freedom in surrender.

Carrying your cross isn’t a life of misery—it’s a life of meaning. Jesus said, “Whoever loses their life for my sake will find it.” That’s the paradox. The more you die to yourself, the more alive you actually become.

But you won’t drift into this kind of life. You choose it. Again and again. Not perfectly, but intentionally.

It’s like signing up for a marathon. The training plan is going to cost you. Early mornings, tired legs, skipped parties, mental walls. But the finish line? Worth it. The discipline leads to joy. The pain gives way to purpose.

Discipleship is the same. Cross-carrying will cost you something today. Maybe comfort. Maybe approval. Maybe control. But the payoff isn’t just in eternity. It’s in the kind of person you become.

A person who’s not swayed by pressure.

A person who’s grounded in truth.

A person who’s free from the exhausting need to keep up appearances.

The world says, “Find yourself.” Jesus says, “Lose yourself in me.”

Apply

Where is Jesus asking you to pick up your cross right now? Is there a decision you’ve been avoiding because it’s uncomfortable or costly? Choose obedience this week—even if it requires dying to comfort, convenience, or pride.

Pray

Jesus, help me carry my cross today. Not out of duty, but out of love for you. I lay down my need to be in control. I lay down my image, my ego, and my comfort. Teach me to walk the path of surrender, knowing that real life is found on the other side. In Jesus’ name. Amen.