"Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him" (Matthew 16:22a).

If Jesus had lived in the deep south in the years following the Civil War, His "cross" probably would have been a rope around his neck and His crucifixion a lynching. If he'd been preaching among Polish Jews around 1940, the cross would have been a gas chamber. Depending on when and where Jesus might have lived and whom He riled (as, sooner or later, he would have), the nails that fixed Him to a piece of wood might have been replaced by leather straps holding in an electric chair. Regardless of the method used, Jesus would have died a criminal's death, not a hero's death.

We can see now why Peter reacted to Jesus as he did. For Peter, a cross was too terrible a prospect to consider, if not out and out nonsense. Jesus was the One his people had been waiting on; Jesus was the King. Hadn't Peter just told him? Hadn't Jesus agreed with Peter? Kings go out in a blaze of glory — if they go out at all. And so Peter quite naturally balks at the notion of a lynching: "Now hold on, waitaminit!" And Jesus says, "No, you hold on." He then proceeds to turn all conventional wisdom on its ear (Matt. 16:24-26).

What is Jesus telling us? Is he saying that we can't follow Him without dying violently at the hands of unbelievers? Must disciples be martyrs? Some must read the text that way. In Saudi Arabia, it's a capitol crime to confess Christ. If you preach in Laos, you'll end up preaching in jail — if you're still able after they break your jaw. Chinese worshippers watch the door as anxiously as some American worshippers watch the clock. I imagine these people filter Jesus' words through bruises and soreness: "'Carry the cross'? Of course. This is what it means to be His disciple."

Thankfully, violent persecution isn't happening everywhere. It isn't happening in western Europe or Britain or the U.S. — yet. Nevertheless, if we follow Him, sooner or later we'll pay a price. I remember a boy in high school. He was one of the nicest fellows I knew — and I gave him a wide berth. We all did. Because he wore work clothes and blockish work shoes and out of his shirt pocket bulged a well-thumbed red Gideon New Testament. At lunch hour, we left him to preach and sing with his tiny band of disciples. They were harmless enough, we all agreed — so long as we stayed away from them. If somebody got too close, he'd be smudged with their holiness. To wear that mark was to invite ridicule.

Is Jesus then telling us to wear funny clothes and preach during lunch? Not necessarily. But here's a better question: When Jesus does tell us to do something, will we do it? Whatever else Jesus means by "take up his cross and follow me," he surely must mean He's the Leader, not us.

In the movie Rudy, a young man is anxious to play on the Notre Dame football team. He goes to a Catholic priest to ask his advice. "In thirty years of theological study," the priest says, "I've discovered two things: There is a God. I'm not Him!"

If only Jesus would take my advice! I've given it to him for years and it's so good! I tell Him that if He lets me fall flat on my face, He won't be glorified! What does He do? He lets me fall flat on my face! I tell him that if I don't get what I want when I want it, I can't praise Him. I know he wants me to praise Him. So why won't He give me what I want? I tell him I need power and influence so that His will can be done on the earth. He laughs at me! Why?

I guess it's because He's God . . . and I'm not. Jesus is the Leader, and we're not. If we choose to follow Him, that is.
To carry a cross, then, will sometimes lead to frustration. It will be like having our arms bound when we want to swing them; like having our feet fixed when we want to walk and run.