The Sovereign Interruption
Introduction: Divine Appointments on Bloody Roads
We have a tendency, born of our fallen nature, to view history as a series of unfortunate accidents, punctuated by the occasional happy coincidence. The secular man sees the world as a great cosmic billiard table, where balls carom off one another according to blind chance and impersonal laws. But the Christian knows that behind the apparent randomness, behind the seeming chaos of human affairs, there is a sovereign hand, guiding, directing, and ordaining all things according to the counsel of His will. Nothing is an accident. There are no stray molecules. And there are certainly no chance encounters on the road to Golgotha.
The scene is one of brutal efficiency. The Roman state, that great iron beast, is carrying out its grim work. The Son of God, having been scourged to within an inch of His life, is now stumbling under the weight of the instrument of His own execution. The physical agony is immense; the loss of blood, the shredded muscles, the sheer exhaustion. And at some point, the Creator of the universe, in His humanity, collapses under the load. The soldiers, impatient to get the job done, look around for a solution. Their eyes fall on a man, a foreigner, just coming into the city from the country. He is a nobody, a random face in the crowd. But in the economy of God, he is an elect instrument, chosen from before the foundation of the world for this very moment.
This is the story of Simon of Cyrene. It is a brief, almost parenthetical, account. But embedded in this single verse is the entire logic of the gospel. It is the story of a sovereign interruption, of a divine compulsion, of a vicarious burden, and of a legacy of grace that ripples out into the life of the early church. We are tempted to read this and see only a historical footnote. But we must not. We must see here the providence of God in stark relief, the nature of our own calling, and the unexpected ways in which God drafts ordinary men into the central drama of redemption.
The Text
And they pressed into service a passer-by coming from the countryside, Simon of Cyrene (the father of Alexander and Rufus), to carry His cross.
(Mark 15:21 LSB)
A Divine Press Gang (v. 21a)
We begin with the compulsion.
"And they pressed into service a passer-by coming from the countryside, Simon of Cyrene..." (Mark 15:21a)
The verb here is a technical term. "Pressed into service" is the Greek word for what a Roman soldier could do by law. He could compel a civilian to carry his gear for a mile. It was an act of raw, imperial power. Simon had no choice in the matter. He was conscripted. He was coming in from the country, minding his own business, perhaps thinking about his Passover preparations, and suddenly his day, and indeed his entire life, is violently interrupted by the Roman state.
But who is really doing the compelling? The soldiers think it is their authority, their spears, their legal prerogative. But behind the arm of the legionary is the arm of the Lord. This is a divine press gang. God reached down into the normal flow of a Friday afternoon and commandeered a man for His own purposes. Simon was not a volunteer. He was drafted.
And is this not the very nature of our salvation? We were not wandering around the countryside, looking for a cross to carry. We were not seeking God. We were, like Simon, coming in from the country, absorbed in our own affairs, hostile or at best indifferent to the things of God. And He interrupted us. He pressed us into service. The call of God is an effectual call. It is a sovereign summons. He does not politely request our assistance; He arrests us, He turns us around, and He enlists us in His cause. "You did not choose Me, but I chose you" (John 15:16). Simon's experience is a living parable of irresistible grace. He was compelled to come into contact with Jesus, and that compulsion changed everything.
Notice also who he was. A man of Cyrene. This is in modern-day Libya, North Africa. He was a foreigner, an outsider. He was likely a Jew of the diaspora, in Jerusalem for the feast. But he was not of the Jerusalem establishment. God often passes over the insiders, the professionals, the ones who think they are in charge, and lays hold of the unexpected man on the road. The call of God is no respecter of persons, or geography, or station. He calls whom He will.
A Vicarious Burden (v. 21b)
Next, we see the task he was given.
"...to carry His cross." (Mark 15:21b)
Jesus had been carrying His own cross, but His physical body, weakened by the flagellation, could no longer bear it. So Simon is made to carry it for Him. This is a picture of substitution, but we must be precise here. Simon did not die on the cross. He did not bear the wrath of God. He did not atone for sin. Only the sinless Son of God could do that. Simon carried the wooden instrument of death, but Christ carried the sin of the world. Simon's burden was heavy, but Christ's was infinitely heavier.
Nevertheless, there is a profound sense in which we are all called to be Simons. Jesus says, "If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me" (Mark 8:34). We are called to bear the cross. What does this mean? It does not mean to bear the generic troubles of life, your arthritis or your difficult boss. That is stoicism, not Christianity. To bear the cross means to bear the reproach, the shame, and the hostility of the world that comes as a direct result of your identification with Jesus Christ. It is to willingly enter into the fellowship of His sufferings (Philippians 3:10).
Simon was forced to identify with a condemned criminal. As he hoisted that beam onto his shoulder, the crowd would have jeered at him, spat on him, and assumed he was one of Christ's followers. He was shamed for a crime he did not commit, associated with a man he did not yet know. This is the essence of discipleship. We are called to be publicly identified with the crucified and risen Lord, and to accept the world's contempt as a badge of honor. Simon's unwilling service became the very pattern of our willing discipleship.
A Legacy of Grace (v. 21c)
Finally, Mark adds a detail that is pregnant with meaning.
"(the father of Alexander and Rufus)" (Mark 15:21c)
Why does Mark include this? Matthew and Luke do not. Mark is writing his gospel primarily to the church in Rome. And when he mentions these names, he expects his readers to know exactly who he is talking about. Alexander and Rufus were evidently well-known, respected members of the Roman Christian community. And how do we know this? Because the Apostle Paul, in his letter to that very church, writes, "Greet Rufus, chosen in the Lord; also his mother, who has been a mother to me" (Romans 16:13).
This is a staggering detail. The man who was violently conscripted to carry the cross of Christ went home and told his family what happened. That forced encounter with the suffering Savior, under the sovereign plan of God, was the instrument God used to bring salvation not just to Simon, but to his entire household. The shame of that day became the glory of his family. The interruption became their inheritance. His son Rufus became a man "chosen in the Lord," a pillar in the church at Rome. And Simon's wife, Rufus's mother, became such a beloved saint that the Apostle Paul himself considered her a mother.
Do you see the ripples of this sovereign grace? God did not just save an individual that day. He saved a family. He established a legacy. What began as a moment of compulsion and public humiliation resulted in a household of faith that was a blessing to the entire Christian world. God's interruptions are never pointless. The burdens He calls us to bear, even the ones we are forced into against our will, are designed to produce a harvest of righteousness for generations to come.
Conclusion: Your Sovereign Interruption
The story of Simon of Cyrene is our story. We are all passers-by, coming in from the country, absorbed in our own lives. And at some point, the sovereign God of the universe interrupts us. He confronts us with the cross of His Son. He compels us, through the work of His Spirit, to stop, to turn, and to look upon the one who was pierced for our transgressions.
At first, this call may feel like a burden. It is a call to die to yourself, to identify with a crucified Lord in a hostile world. It is a call to pick up a cross. But what begins as a compulsion becomes a glorious privilege. The shame of the cross gives way to the glory of the resurrection. The burden becomes a blessing. And the interruption becomes the beginning of your real story, a story of grace that does not end with you, but ripples out to your children and your children's children.
Perhaps you are here today and you feel like God has interrupted your life. A trial, a hardship, a difficulty has been laid on your shoulders that you did not choose and do not want. You must understand that this is the hand of God. He is pressing you into service. He is forcing you into closer contact with the suffering Savior, so that you might also know the power of His resurrection. Do not resent the interruption. Do not despise the burden. For it is on this road of suffering, in the very act of bearing the cross, that God brings salvation to us and to our households, and builds a legacy of grace for His own glory.