The Road to the Cross: A Journey Worth Taking

We live in a world obsessed with destinations. We want the promotion without the years of faithful work. We want the harvest without the planting. We want Easter morning without Good Friday. But what if the journey itself is where God does His most transformative work?

When Journeys Get Difficult

Think about your worst travel experience. Maybe it was a flight where everything went wrong, or a road trip that turned into a disaster. We remember these difficult journeys far more vividly than the smooth ones. There's something about hardship that etches itself into our memory and, if we're paying attention, into our character.

The same is true of our spiritual lives. The road to the cross isn't paved with comfort and ease. It's a burdensome road, a brutal road, a costly road. It's one where we will suffer, sacrifice, and surrender. Yet it's also a road that leads to resurrection.

The Plan Unveiled

In Matthew 16:21-28, we encounter a pivotal moment in Jesus' ministry. He had just been identified correctly by Peter as the Messiah, the Son of the living God. The disciples must have been elated. Finally, their Rabbi would take His rightful place as King, overthrow the Roman oppressors, and restore Israel to glory.

Then Jesus said something that shattered their expectations: He must go to Jerusalem, suffer at the hands of religious leaders, be killed, and on the third day be raised to life.

Jesus called His shot. He laid out the game plan with stunning clarity. But notice what happened when the moment actually arrived. When Jesus was crucified, the disciples huddled in an upper room, trembling with fear, disoriented by what had transpired. They acted as though they had never heard the promise.

How often do we do the same? God extends promises throughout Scripture—that all things work together for good, that He will never leave us nor forsake us, that we are chosen and beloved. Yet when chaos swirls around us, we forget. We become disoriented by our circumstances and lose sight of the eternal promises that anchor our souls.

Never, Lord

Peter's response to Jesus' revelation is both shocking and deeply relatable. He pulled Jesus aside and rebuked Him—using the same Greek word Jesus used for casting out demons. "Never, Lord!" Peter insisted. "This shall never happen to you!"

Two words that should never go together: "never" and "Lord."

When we call Jesus "Lord," we acknowledge His authority over everything. Lord means surrender. Lord means He gets to call the shots. Yet how often do our prayers sound like Peter's rebuke? "Jesus, I like you, but I don't like your plan. I'll follow you as long as it fits my expectations. I want the crown, but not the cross."

We try to negotiate with the Lord. We offer advice. We attempt to correct His course. But lordship isn't a title we assign to Jesus—it's a reality we surrender to.

Peter couldn't see that the very thing he was trying to prevent—the cross—was the very thing that would save and redeem him. He was operating with human concerns rather than divine perspective, thinking horizontally instead of vertically, temporarily instead of eternally.

The Designer's Instructions

When we assemble furniture, we have a choice: follow the designer's instructions or wing it on our own. The instructions exist because the designer knows how the piece is meant to function. When we follow them, the furniture serves its purpose. When we ignore them, we end up with something that doesn't work.

God is our Designer. He has given us instructions for how to live—not to restrict us, but to lead us into flourishing. Following Jesus as Lord and Savior isn't a burden that crushes us; it's the path to fulfillment, purpose, and meaning.

The Invitation to Die

Then Jesus issued one of the most challenging invitations in all of Scripture: "Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves, take up their cross, and follow me."

When Jesus spoke these words, His audience knew exactly what a cross meant. They had seen people carrying wooden crosses through the streets on their way to execution. This was no metaphor for minor inconvenience. This was a Roman torture device, an instrument of death.

Jesus wasn't inviting people to a comfortable life. He was extending a bid to come and die.

This is the problem with any gospel that promises only prosperity and ease. The words of Jesus Himself point to a cross, not a pot of gold. Discipleship means:

Denying yourself - You no longer live for yourself because Jesus is Lord.

Taking up your cross - Embracing the death of your old self and your selfish ambitions.

Following Him - Not the world, not your desires, but Jesus alone.

The great enemy of the Christian isn't death or persecution—it's comfort. Church history reveals that Christianity grew most rapidly during times of persecution. When believers were comfortable, growth stagnated. Comfort lulls us into thinking this temporary world is all that matters.

What If You Win and Still Lose?

Jesus asked a penetrating question: "What good will it be for someone to gain the whole world, yet forfeit their soul?"

What if you climb the ladder of success all the way to the top? What if you acquire the biggest house, the most money, the perfect family, everything the world says matters? What if you win by every earthly measure but lose your soul because you never surrendered to Jesus?

You can have the world, or you can have your soul, but you cannot have both.

The great question as we approach Easter isn't just about the death of Jesus on the cross. It's about your death on the cross. Are you bearing your cross? Did you say yes to a fairy tale god who grants your every wish, or did you say yes to the cross of Jesus, denying yourself and walking with Him through the ups and downs of life?

The Reward That Awaits

Jesus promised that the Son of Man would come in His Father's glory with angels and reward each person according to what they have done. This should cause us to ask: Are we living for the reward in heaven or the reward on earth? What are we investing in?

The cross always comes before the resurrection, but the resurrection always comes for believers. On the other side of death—death to self, death to sin, death to worldly ambition—there is resurrection life. There is transformation. There is Jesus.

Fleeing or Dying

A.W. Tozer wrote, "We must do something about the cross, and one of two things only we can do: flee it or die upon it."

The invitation this morning is the invitation of Jesus. It sounds strange, even uncomfortable, but it's thoroughly biblical: Come and die. Because in our death, we can truly live through Jesus.

This doesn't mean perfection. It means picking up your cross every single day, bending your knee to the lordship of Jesus, and saying, "Yes, Lord, whatever you want." Underneath the weight of that cross, the holiness of God happens in our hearts.

The road to the cross is not easy. But at the end of this road is transformation. At the end of this road is Jesus. And that makes the journey worth taking.