Fifty Followers

 

Fifty followers of Jesus filed behind the wooden cross, wending our way through the streets of Banchory early this morning. Octogenarians and children as young as 6 or 7, and all ages in between, stepped out in somber mood.

At appropriate places we paused, hearing the familiar story of the passion and death of Jesus Christ. This afforded a moment to invite two new volunteers to take up the cross and lead the way.

A granddad and his grandson stepped forward. Two teenage boys took their turn. Two silver-haired women, followed by two adolescent girls also shouldered the burden and led the way.

‘Take up your cross and follow me,’ Jesus told his disciples. We each have our own cross to carry, and sometimes that can be so heavy. I know this last week, there was a moment when I heard myself say, ‘It’s just too much.’

But Jesus never gives us more than we can bear, and his promise is that he is always with us. I noticed that when Don took the top of the cross and I took the bottom, he was bearing most of the burden. The truth is that when I take up my cross, Jesus shoulders the weight of the crossbeam, and I just need to stay in step. It’s when I get out of step – walk too fast or drop back hesitantly – or veer off at a tangent, that the cross becomes awkward, heavy and ‘just too much’.  

Yoked to Jesus (another invitation he gives us), this morning I thought of how uneven a yoke that is, as he bears the lion’s share of the weight.

Lord Jesus, with fresh resolve and renewed strength, may I take up the cross which is mine to carry. May I be ever alert to your leading, and may I be always willing to follow whatever path you decide to take.

Thank you that you did not shirk the cross. Thank you that you resisted the temptation to veer off and do things in a less painful way. Thank you that it was not the nails, but your love, that pinned you to that awful tree of Calvary. Thank you.