We know how the story ends. That’s what makes it so easy to cast judgment.
The religious leaders of Jesus’ day had one of the clearest front-row seats to the Son of God—and they missed it. Worse, they opposed Him. Rejected Him. And in the end, condemned Him. With what we know now, it’s almost unthinkable. How could they do it? How could they be so blind?
If we had lived back then, we think—we would’ve seen what they couldn’t.
But let’s pause for a moment and step back into the story as it unfolded.
At first, Jesus was hardly on their radar. A young man from Galilee. No formal training. No rabbinical credentials. No ties to Jerusalem’s elite. He taught in synagogues here and there, traveled with a group of commoners, and spoke of the Kingdom of Heaven like it was near—as if He had the authority to open its gates.
They probably dismissed Him at first. A curiosity. A novelty. Maybe even a bit of a nuisance. But certainly not a threat.
Until He was.
He began to draw crowds—big ones. People came from everywhere, hanging on His every word. His miracles became impossible to ignore. The blind saw. The deaf heard. The lame walked. He taught with clarity and conviction, and the common people were captivated.
He didn’t just teach truth. He confronted lies.
He exposed hypocrisy. And not just any hypocrisy—theirs.
“Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you clean the outside of the cup and the plate, but inside they are full of greed and self-indulgence.” (Matthew 23:25 ESV).
That’s when things started to shift. Suddenly, the one they had once brushed off had become their greatest challenge. Their grip on the people was loosening, and this man from Nazareth was the reason.
They couldn’t dismiss Him anymore.
But they couldn’t defeat Him either. Every attempt to trap Him in His words failed. Every public confrontation ended with them humiliated and Him exalted. He spoke with wisdom they couldn’t match. He lived with purity they couldn’t fake. And He loved people they had long forgotten.
So they looked for a reason—a righteous reason—to bring Him down.
“This was why the Jews were seeking all the more to kill him, because not only was he breaking the Sabbath, but he was even calling God his own Father, making himself equal with God.” (John 5:18 ESV).
Blasphemy. That would be the charge. It sounded holy. It sounded serious. It gave them the moral high ground. But Pilate saw straight through it.
“For he knew that it was out of envy that they had delivered him up.” (Matthew 27:18 ESV).
Envy gave teeth to the charge of blasphemy.
Their indignation may have worn the robe of righteousness, but underneath it was bruised pride, threatened influence, and deep resentment. The truth is, had Jesus not been popular, had He not turned the heads of the crowds and exposed the hearts of the leaders, they might’ve simply scoffed at Him and moved on.
But His light revealed their darkness. And they couldn’t stand the contrast.
So they accused. They condemned. And they crucified.
And we shake our heads at the tragedy of it all.
But somewhere along the way, the story turns—and if we’re willing to follow it long enough, we’ll find ourselves in it.
Because we’ve used spiritual language to mask personal motives too.
Maybe we’ve never accused anyone of blasphemy. But have we ever questioned someone’s sincerity because we were threatened by their success? Have we ever critiqued someone’s theology as a way to disguise our disdain? Have we ever cloaked envy, insecurity, or pride in the language of discernment?
We don’t say, “I’m jealous.”
We say, “I just have concerns.”
We don’t admit, “I’m threatened by their influence.”
We say, “They seem a bit off.”
Sometimes our critiques are valid. But sometimes…they’re not. Sometimes we’re no different from the men who handed Jesus over—using righteous language to cover a restless heart.
The cancer of envy doesn’t always scream. Sometimes it whispers. It compares. It resents. It justifies. And like the leaders of old, we’re often unaware of how much it has taken root in us—until the fruit starts to show.
Jesus didn’t just die for their envy. He died for ours too.
He went to the cross knowing that we, too, would struggle with wounded egos and petty pride. That we would be tempted to protect our image more than reflect His. And that we would sometimes use our faith not to follow Him—but to hide from Him.
But He didn’t flinch.
“And Jesus said, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” (Luke 23:34 ESV).
Even while nailed to a tree, He loved us. Even when we hide our envy behind religion, He calls us to lay it down. Even when we struggle with the same sins we’re so quick to condemn in others, He offers us grace—and transformation.
That’s the hope.
We don’t have to be like the ones who crucified Him. We can become like the One who forgave them.
So maybe the question for us isn’t just how could they do that?
Maybe it’s how do we make sure we don’t?
Let’s ask the Spirit to search our hearts. Let’s name the envy if it’s there. Let’s release the pride, the fear, the need to be seen, and let Jesus take His rightful place again—on the throne of our hearts.
Let’s be the kind of people who look at others not with resentment but with rejoicing. Who don’t just speak truth, but walk in it. Who don’t let envy sit quietly in the corner, disguised as holiness, but expose it to the light—and watch it disappear under the weight of grace.
And let’s prepare ourselves not just to talk about Him…
…but to look like Him.
Today, we are restless. We live in a broken world, but long for something more. While this earth was created for us by the Creator, and we get to enjoy the pleasures the earth offers, it is a mere shadow of our true home awaiting us.
As broken as this world is because of sin that has entered it, God’s grace still ensures the goodness from Him flows to us through Him. This so wonderfully showcases our God’s love for us.
Yet, while sin is in the world, we groan deep down to be in a perfect relationship with our God, where no sin exists to separate us from Him, where our relationship with Him is perfect, the way He created us to live.
Paul captures our longing so beautifully in Romans when he writes,
“For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now.
And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies.” (Romans 8:22-23 ESV).
Do you feel that groaning in your very being? One day soon, our great God and Father will take that groaning away by giving us a life so amazing with Him. We have no idea just how great what He has in store for us really is.
“But, as it is written, “What no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man imagined, what God has prepared for those who love him.” (1 Corinthians 2:9 ESV).
I can hardly wait. This is what I groan for today.
I’m in Matthew right now in my daily Bible reading. In chapter 22, Jesus shares a story—the parable of the wedding feast. It’s a powerful picture of God’s invitation into His Kingdom.
In this story, a king prepares a grand wedding feast for his son. He sends his servants to invite the people of his kingdom, but surprisingly, they refuse his generous invitation.
“But they paid no attention and went off, one to his farm, another to his business,
while the rest seized his servants, treated them shamefully, and killed them.” (Matthew 22:5-6 ESV).
This angers the king, who responds by punishing those who violently rejected his invitation. But the feast is ready—the celebration must continue. So he sends his servants out again, this time beyond the city gates:
“’Go therefore to the main roads and invite to the wedding feast as many as you find.’
And those servants went out into the roads and gathered all whom they found, both bad and good. So the wedding hall was filled with guests.” (Matthew 22:9-10 ESV).
Jesus is giving us a vivid picture here of how His Kingdom unfolds. The original guests—the Jewish nation—largely rejected God’s invitation. So God graciously expanded that invitation to the Gentiles—to us. All were invited, both good and bad, regardless of their past.
But then comes a striking and even troubling moment in the story:
“But when the king came in to look at the guests, he saw there a man who had no wedding garment.
And he said to him, ‘Friend, how did you get in here without a wedding garment?’ And he was speechless.
Then the king said to the attendants, ‘Bind him hand and foot and cast him into the outer darkness. In that place there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.’
For many are called, but few are chosen.” (Matthew 22:11-14 ESV).
At first glance, this seems harsh. Why was the king so severe toward this invited guest? After all, wasn’t everyone on the highways and byways invited, both good and bad? Where was the grace for this man who had accepted the invitation?
But here’s what stands out clearly: God’s gracious invitation requires that we accept it on His terms, not ours. When the king confronts the man, notice his response—he was speechless. The guest had no excuse. He knew exactly what was expected of him, yet chose not to honor the king by preparing appropriately.
We Gentiles have been offered an incredible gift—the chance to sit at the Lord’s table in His Kingdom. But receiving this gift means clothing ourselves properly. We come not in our old garments of pride, sin, and rebellion, but in humility, wisdom, righteousness, and true allegiance to Jesus.
If we insist on showing up to His feast without shedding the ways of our old life, we too will find ourselves cast out. We must put on the new garments Christ provides, cleansed by His blood and transformed by His grace.
Indeed, “many are called, but few are chosen.” Not because God is selective or unfair—remember, we were invited freely from the highways and byways—but because few will choose to truly surrender their old garments for the new robes He provides.
Let’s make sure we’re among those who eagerly dress ourselves in Christ and embrace His invitation wholeheartedly.
When I study the sovereignty of God, I see that God is truly in control. As men, we ponder, “How can even God break the mighty?”
But God can exert His will in ways we cannot fathom.
He doesn’t need to raise up a stronger enemy.
He doesn’t need to bring a famine or pestilence.
He doesn’t need to send a storm to destroy.
Sometimes God can be creative in ways beyond us.
He has many arrows in His quiver and can use any one of them to accomplish His purpose.
Sometimes He just brings in stupid people who do not know how to handle the strength, wealth, and wisdom a people have built up to make themselves invincible.
Consider…
“therefore, behold, I will again do wonderful things with this people, with wonder upon wonder; and the wisdom of their wise men shall perish, and the discernment of their discerning men shall be hidden.” (Isaiah 29:14 ESV).
Or…
“and the spirit of the Egyptians within them will be emptied out, and I will confound their counsel; and they will inquire of the idols and the sorcerers, and the mediums and the necromancers;” (Isaiah 19:3 ESV).
The lesson: Never paint God into a corner as to how He can accomplish His purpose. He can do so in ways we can never fathom and no country on earth today is beyond His reach.
Not one.
Interesting thought to ponder…
If I were called today to stand before Jesus in judgment, and He judged me according to the same standard I judged others today, how would that go for me?
Would my judgment be strict or gracious?
Reality:
Jesus: “If you love Me, you will keep My commandments.”
Fantasy:
Me: “If You want to be my Savior, then You will not complain about the choices I make and You will thank me for accepting You.”
Just sit back and watch the sovereignty of God play out in the kingdoms of men.
It’s easy to get anxious when the world feels like it’s spinning out of control. The headlines shift from one crisis to another—economic uncertainty, military unrest, political chaos. But none of it catches God off guard.
Remember where our faith rests. Trust in the Lord.
We don’t have a prophet to tell us exactly how God’s sovereign will is unfolding in our time. Apart from His Word, we don’t have all the details—but we do have the assurance that He will do what He pleases and allow what He wills. And that is enough.
So when we’re tempted to wring our hands, let’s use them instead to serve in the kingdom of our Savior and King, Jesus.
Let men be busy with the affairs of men. Let us stay focused on the kingdom that cannot be shaken—the eternal kingdom that now is, and forever will be.
I am in the book of Micah in my daily Bible reading.
Micah 6 is a sobering reminder of what happens when people choose to trust in themselves instead of trusting in God. The judgment coming upon Israel was not just about military defeat or exile—it was about futility. God tells them that no matter how hard they work, nothing will come of it.
“You shall eat, but not be satisfied, and there shall be hunger within you; you shall put away, but not preserve, and what you preserve I will give to the sword.
You shall sow, but not reap; you shall tread olives, but not anoint yourselves with oil; you shall tread grapes, but not drink wine.” (Micah 6:14-15 ESV).
This is what it looks like when the people of God rely on their own strength. Their hands are busy, but their hearts are far from the Lord. They work, but they don’t enjoy the fruit. They gather, but what they gather slips away. It’s a picture of a life disconnected from the true source of blessing.
Now contrast that with what it looks like when God provides. When He gives, it is more than enough. It is rich, and full, and abundant—but even then, there’s a warning not to forget where it came from.
“And when the LORD your God brings you into the land that he swore to your fathers, to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob, to give you--with great and good cities that you did not build,
and houses full of all good things that you did not fill, and cisterns that you did not dig, and vineyards and olive trees that you did not plant--and when you eat and are full,
then take care lest you forget the LORD, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery.” (Deuteronomy 6:10-12 ESV).
The danger isn’t just in lack—it’s in abundance. We are often tempted to forget the Lord when our barns are full and our bank accounts are padded. We start to believe the lie that we built this life with our own hands. But the same God who gives can also take away.
Let us be mindful that salvation is never found in what we build or possess. Riches promise peace but deliver anxiety. They promise security but offer no salvation.
Only Jesus saves. Only He gives the life that satisfies. So whether we are full or hungry, rich or poor, let us remember the Lord. He alone is our source, our portion, and our King.