Five People Nobody Talks About at Easter

God saw them. He sees you, too.

Easter has its headliners.

Mary. Peter. Pilate. Judas. Thomas. We know their names. We’ve heard the sermons, sat through the passion plays, and watched the movies. Every year, the same faces fill the front of the story.

But there’s another layer to that weekend. Tucked into the margins of the greatest story ever told are five people most of us walk right past. They don’t get the spotlight. They don’t have the speaking parts. Some of them don’t even have names.

I’ve been sitting with them this Easter season, and I’m convinced God put them there on purpose.

Not just as background characters. As mirrors.

Because if you look closely enough, you’ll see yourself in at least one of them.

1. Simon of Cyrene: The Man Who Didn’t Volunteer

“As they were going out, they met a man from Cyrene, named Simon, and they forced him to carry the cross.”~ Matthew 27:32

He was just passing through.

Simon had come to Jerusalem for Passover, a long journey from Cyrene, a city in modern-day Libya. He wasn’t a disciple. He wasn’t part of the inner circle. He wasn’t even looking for Jesus that day. He was probably just trying to get through the crowd and find a good spot to observe the holiday.

Then Roman soldiers grabbed him by the arm and pressed him into service.

He didn’t raise his hand. He didn’t sign up. The cross that landed on his shoulders wasn’t his to carry, and yet there he was, bearing the weight of it through the streets of Jerusalem, walking behind a bloodied man he may not have even known.

Can you relate to that?

Most of us have been Simon at some point. Drafted into a season we didn’t choose. Carrying something heavy that wasn’t supposed to be ours. A diagnosis, a job loss, a relationship that fell apart, a role that got handed to you before you felt ready. You didn’t raise your hand. You just showed up one day and got pressed into it.

What strikes me is that Matthew, Mark, and Luke all chose to record his name. Amid thousands of unnamed faces in the crowd, they wrote down Simon’s name. Mark goes even further. He names Simon’s sons, Alexander and Rufus, as if the original readers would recognize them. Scholars believe Alexander and Rufus became known figures in the early church.

A man who didn’t volunteer for anything. A reluctant participant in the most significant moment in human history. And his family became part of the movement that changed the world.

God doesn’t waste the seasons you didn’t choose.

Something to sit with…

▸What cross have you been forced to carry that you never volunteered for?

▸Looking back, can you see any purpose in a hard season you didn’t choose?

▸Who in your life might be a “Simon” right now — carrying something heavy that wasn’t supposed to be theirs?

2. Joseph of Arimathea: The Man Who Finally Went Public

“Joseph of Arimathea, a prominent member of the Council, who was himself waiting for the kingdom of God, went boldly to Pilate and asked for Jesus’ body.”— Mark 15:43

Joseph had a secret.

He was a wealthy, respected member of the Sanhedrin, the very ruling council that had orchestrated Jesus’ arrest and handed him over to be crucified. He had power, influence, and a reputation worth protecting. And according to John’s Gospel, he was a disciple of Jesus, but secretly, because he feared what his colleagues would think.

He’d been quiet. Playing it safe. Keeping his faith tucked away where it wouldn’t cost him anything.

Then Jesus died.

And something must have shifted in Joseph. The text says he went to Pilate “boldly” — that word seems deliberate. This was not a cautious move. Claiming the body of a crucified criminal, a man the council had just condemned, was a public act of allegiance. It may have put his career at risk — his standing, his relationships, everything he’d spent a lifetime building.

He did it anyway. He took the body, wrapped it in linen, and laid it in his own tomb — a tomb he’d likely prepared for himself.

Here’s what gets me about Joseph: he didn’t step out when following Jesus was popular. He didn’t go public during the triumphal entry, when the crowds were waving palm branches and shouting. He went public after the crucifixion, when the movement looked finished. When the disciples had scattered. When there was nothing left to gain and everything left to lose.

Sometimes the most significant thing you’ll ever do happens after the crowd has already left.

Is there something you’ve been keeping quiet? A conviction you’ve been carrying privately because you’re not sure what it will cost you to say it out loud? Joseph’s story is an invitation. It’s not too late to go bold.

Something to sit with…

▸Is there a belief, conviction, or faith commitment you’ve been keeping private? What’s holding you back?

▸What would it look like for you to “go boldly” in an area where you’ve been playing it safe?

▸Joseph acted when it cost something. What might your bold step cost — and is it worth it?

3. The Roman Centurion: The Man Nobody Expected to Believe

“When the centurion and those with him who were guarding Jesus saw the earthquake and all that had happened, they were terrified, and exclaimed, “Surely he was the Son of God!””— Matthew 27:54

He was a professional soldier. Hardened by years of military service under the Roman Empire. A centurion commanded up to a hundred men. You didn’t get that rank by being soft. He’d likely overseen dozens of crucifixions. It was just part of the job.

That day at Golgotha was supposed to be routine.

But then he watched something he’d never seen before. He watched a man being executed — beaten, mocked, nailed to a cross — who forgave the people killing him. He heard him cry out to God. He watched the sky go dark in the middle of the afternoon. He felt the earth shake the moment Jesus breathed his last.

And this Roman soldier — this anonymous, unlikely, outside-the-covenant man — said out loud what none of the religious leaders would say: “Surely he was the Son of God.”

Three of the four Gospels record that moment. Matthew and Mark give it to the centurion. Luke records him saying, “Certainly this was a righteous man.” Either way, the declaration came from the last person anyone would have expected.

We don’t know his name. We don’t know what happened to him after that afternoon. But his words, spoken in a moment of raw, unfiltered response to what he’d just witnessed, are preserved in Scripture forever.

You don’t need the right background, the right credentials, or the right religious history to recognize who Jesus is.

Sometimes it’s the person who’s been farthest from the church who sees most clearly. Don’t count yourself out. And don’t count anyone else out either.

Something to sit with…

▸Have you ever discounted your own faith story because you didn’t think your background was “the right kind”?

▸Is there someone in your life you’ve written off spiritually? What would it look like to stop counting them out?

▸The centurion responded to what he witnessed. What have you witnessed that deserves a response from you?

4. Pilate’s Wife: The Woman Who Spoke Truth and Was Ignored

“While Pilate was sitting on the judge’s seat, his wife sent him this message: “Don’t have anything to do with that innocent man, for I have suffered a great deal today in a dream because of him.””— Matthew 27:19

We don’t know her name. Matthew doesn’t give it to us. She’s simply “Pilate’s wife” — defined entirely by her relationship to a man who is remembered for making one of history’s worst decisions.

But she saw it clearly.

While her husband was presiding over the most consequential trial in human history, she sent him an urgent, personal message from across the courtyard: this man is innocent. I know it. I suffered over it in a dream. Don’t do this.

She had no official standing. In Roman culture, a governor’s wife didn’t interrupt legal proceedings. And yet she did it anyway, because she knew what was right and she couldn’t stay quiet.

Pilate ignored her. He washed his hands. And the rest is history.

What strikes me about this unnamed woman is that she told the truth when it wasn’t her place, when nobody asked her, when it likely wouldn’t matter. She did it anyway. And even though her husband didn’t listen — even though her warning went unheeded — God made sure her words were written down.

God notices the truth you speak, even when no one around you receives it.

Have you ever done the right thing and been ignored? Said the hard thing and had it fall on deaf ears? Spoken up when you knew you’d be dismissed? She’s your person. Her courage wasn’t wasted. Neither is yours.

Something to sit with…

▸When have you spoken truth and felt completely unheard? How did that land in you?

▸Is there something true you’ve been holding back because you don’t think it will matter?

▸What does it mean to you that God “wrote down” the words of someone nobody remembers by name?

5. Nicodemus: The Man Who Came at Midnight and Stayed Till the End

“He was accompanied by Nicodemus, the man who earlier had visited Jesus at night. Nicodemus brought a mixture of myrrh and aloes, about seventy-five pounds.”— John 19:39

Nicodemus first shows up in John chapter 3, and the detail John gives us is telling: he came to Jesus at night.

He was a Pharisee. A member of the Jewish ruling council. Educated, respected, powerful. And he was genuinely curious about Jesus, but not curious enough to be seen with him in broad daylight. So he came under cover of darkness, full of questions he couldn’t ask anywhere else.

Jesus gave him the most famous answer in all of Scripture: “You must be born again.”

Nicodemus didn’t fully understand it. He pushed back, stumbled over the metaphor, tried to make it literal. He left that night with more questions than answers.

He surfaces again in John 7, when his fellow Pharisees want to arrest Jesus. Nicodemus offers a quiet, cautious defense: “Does our law condemn a man without first hearing him?” It wasn’t bold, but it was something.

Then Jesus dies. And Nicodemus shows up one final time alongside Joseph of Arimathea, in broad daylight, carrying seventy-five pounds of burial spices to honor a crucified man.

Seventy-five pounds. That’s not a discreet gesture. That’s not “kind of, sort of” honoring Jesus. That’s the burial of a king. Nicodemus brought enough spices to bury royalty.

The man who came at midnight, full of secret questions, ended his story standing in the open, honoring Jesus in the most extravagant way he knew how.

Some people’s yes takes time. That doesn’t make it less real, and it shouldn’t be overlooked.

Maybe you’re a Nicodemus. You’ve been circling. Asking questions in the dark. Not quite ready to go public with what you’re feeling, what you’re believing, what’s stirring in you. That’s okay. Nicodemus took years. But he got there. And when he arrived, he arrived fully.

Something to sit with…

▸Where are you in your own journey — still asking questions in the dark, somewhere in the middle, or finally stepping into the open?

▸What questions have you been afraid to ask out loud about faith, God, or your own belief?

▸Nicodemus’ final act was extravagant. What would a “75-pound” gesture of faith look like in your life right now?

God Sees the People in the Margins

Five people, five stories. None of them in the spotlight.

A reluctant carrier. A secret disciple who finally went public. A hardened soldier who said what no one expected. An unnamed woman who told the truth anyway. A midnight seeker who took years to fully arrive.

What they have in common is simple: God saw every one of them. He recorded their moments. He wove their stories into the fabric of the most important weekend in human history.

You may not feel significant right now.

Maybe you’re in a season you didn’t choose, like Simon. Maybe you’ve been quiet too long, like Joseph. Maybe you feel like an outsider, like the centurion. Maybe you’ve spoken truth that nobody received, like her. Maybe your yes is still forming in the dark, like Nicodemus.

God sees you in the margin. He’s writing you into the story.

He is risen. And He knows your name.

A Few Questions Worth Sitting With This Easter

These aren’t quiz questions. There’s no right answer. They’re just invitations to slow down and let this story do what it was meant to do.

Something to sit with…

▸Which of these five people feels most like you right now — and why?

▸Is there a season, a step, or a truth you’ve been avoiding that one of these five is calling you toward?

▸God recorded the names and moments of people the world overlooked. What does that say about how He sees you?

▸If your story were written into the Easter narrative, where would you show up — and what would it say about you?

▸What’s one thing you want to carry differently after reading this?