Walking With Christ

(Part 6 of 8)

John 6:66  After this many of his disciples turned back and no longer walked with him.(ESV)

That verse is easy to read too quickly.  Maybe because it’s short.  Maybe because we already know what happens next.  Maybe because we’re used to people following Jesus.  Maybe because we don’t like sitting with the opposite.

Many of His disciples left.  Not His enemies.  Not the Pharisees.  Not people who had never listened.

Disciples.

People who had followed.  People who had heard Him.  People who had seen enough to keep walking with Him for a while.

Then Jesus taught something they found difficult.  And they left.

Pause there.

The chapter begins with enormous crowds.  Jesus feeds thousands.  People are impressed.  They want more.  They follow Him across the sea.

From the outside, this looks like momentum.  Growth.  Interest.  Attention.  A successful ministry moment.

Then Jesus begins teaching.

The crowd becomes uncomfortable.  They grumble.  They argue.  They struggle with His words.

Finally some of His disciples say:  “This is a hard saying; who can listen to it?”

They don’t say they failed to hear Him.  They heard Him well enough to dislike what they heard.

There’s a difference.

Sometimes Scripture is difficult because we don’t understand it.  Sometimes Scripture is difficult because we understand enough.

John 6 appears to contain both.  Jesus is speaking in language that confuses them.  But beneath the confusion is offense.

They don’t like where His teaching is taking them.

And Jesus knows it.

He doesn’t panic.  He doesn’t gather the leadership team and ask how to improve retention.  He doesn’t soften the language until everyone feels comfortable again.  He doesn’t chase the departing crowd down the road.

He lets them leave.

That should make us pause.

Especially because modern Christians are often deeply concerned with keeping people.

Keeping attendance.  Keeping approval.  Keeping donors.  Keeping followers.  Keeping influence.  Keeping peace.  Keeping the room full.

Those things aren’t automatically wrong.

People matter.  Church growth can be good.

Clear communication matters.  We should never make truth unnecessarily confusing, harsh, or inaccessible simply so we can congratulate ourselves for being uncompromising.

But there’s a point where keeping people and keeping truth can come into conflict.

John 6 forces us to look at that moment.

Jesus chooses truth.

That doesn’t mean He enjoys people leaving.  It doesn’t mean He’s indifferent.

It means He refuses to purchase loyalty by changing what has to be said.

That’s uncomfortable.  Because sometimes we do.

We learn what subjects upset people.  We learn what opinions cost us approval.  We learn what truth creates tension.  We learn what parts of Scripture are easier to leave untouched.

Then we adjust.

Not always by openly denying anything.  Sometimes we simply stop mentioning it.

We soften the sentence.  We change the emphasis.  We move quickly past the difficult part.  We surround it with enough qualification that nobody has to feel the command anymore.

We call that wisdom.  Sometimes it is.  Sometimes it’s fear.

There’s a difference.

Jesus doesn’t seem afraid of losing the crowd.  After many disciples leave, He turns to the Twelve and asks:  “Do you want to go away as well?”

That may be the most surprising part.  He doesn’t tell them:  “Do not worry.  I’ll make the next teaching easier.”

He gives them the door too.  Do you want to leave?

That’s extraordinary.

Jesus is willing to be followed freely.  He isn’t manipulating people into staying.  He isn’t holding the relationship together through fear of numbers.  He isn’t pretending discipleship costs nothing.

The Twelve must decide.

Peter answers:  “Lord, to whom shall we go?  You have the words of eternal life.”

Notice what Peter doesn’t say.  He does not say:  “We understood everything.”  He doesn’t say:  “That teaching was easy.”  He doesn’t say:  “We liked it.”

He says, essentially:  Where else would we go?  You have the words of life.

That’s a much deeper kind of faith.

Faith isn’t always understanding every word immediately.

Sometimes faith is knowing enough about the One speaking to remain when the words are difficult.

That’s important because we often treat discomfort as evidence that something must be wrong.

If a teaching makes us uneasy, we assume the teaching needs adjustment.

If Scripture collides with our assumptions, we look for another interpretation.

If obedience becomes costly, we begin asking whether the command still applies.

Sometimes those questions are legitimate.  Interpretation matters.  Context matters.

We should test what we hear.  But there’s another possibility.

Maybe the problem isn’t that the teaching is wrong.  Maybe the teaching has reached something in us that doesn’t want to surrender.

That’s what makes John 6 dangerous.

The people leaving weren’t necessarily stupid.  They were offended.

They reached a point where following Jesus required something they were unwilling to accept.  So they stopped walking with Him.

That can still happen.  Not always dramatically.  Sometimes people don’t announce that they’re leaving Jesus.

They simply begin editing Him.  They keep the parts they love.  Mercy.  Grace.  Compassion.  Hope.  Forgiveness.

Then they quietly reject the parts that confront them.

Holiness.  Repentance.  Obedience.  Judgment.  Self-denial.  Submission.  Enemy-love.  Sexual purity.  Forgiveness when it hurts.  Truth when it costs.

We can build a version of Jesus who never says anything hard enough to make us leave.  But that Jesus may only be a reflection of ourselves.

The Jesus of John 6 doesn’t change the teaching when people walk away.

That should sober us.  Because following Christ means He retains the right to disagree with us.

That sounds obvious.  It isn’t always lived that way.

If Jesus is Lord, then eventually He will say something we wouldn’t have chosen.

He’ll confront something we wanted to keep.  He’ll correct something we thought was right.  He’ll ask for something we thought was ours.  He’ll offend our pride.  He’ll challenge our assumptions.  He’ll refuse to become manageable.

The question is what we do then.  Do we stay?

Not because we understand everything.  Not because obedience is easy.  Not because every teaching feels good.  Because we know who He is.

That’s Peter’s answer.  “To whom shall we go?”

There’s maturity in that sentence.

Peter isn’t pretending the moment is easy.  He’s recognizing that difficulty doesn’t erase truth.

We often pass John 6:66 because the departure happens in one sentence.

Many disciples turned back.  The story moves on.  But that sentence represents real people making a real decision.

They’d walked with Jesus.  Then they reached the boundary of what they were willing to accept.

That boundary became the end of their discipleship.

That should make us ask where ours is.

What could Jesus say that would make you leave?

What command would make you begin editing Scripture?

What truth would cost too much?

What part of your identity have you placed beyond His authority?

What belief would you refuse to surrender even if Christ contradicted it?

What relationship, habit, ambition, resentment, or desire?

Where’s the line where you would tell Jesus:  You may lead me everywhere except there?

That’s the line John 6 exposes.  And there’s another warning here for anyone who teaches.

If people stay only because we never say anything difficult, what exactly are they staying for?

If truth must constantly be softened to preserve attendance, are we forming disciples or maintaining an audience?

Jesus cared about people enough to tell them the truth.  Even when truth cost Him followers.

That doesn’t give us permission to be cruel.  It gives us responsibility to be faithful.

Truth without love can become brutality.  Love without truth becomes deception.

Jesus embodies both.  He feeds the crowd.  He teaches the crowd.  He tells the truth.  He lets the crowd decide.

Then many leave.

We pause when Judas betrays Jesus later.  We pause when Peter denies Him.  We pause when the disciples scatter at the cross.

But John 6:66 records a quieter departure.

People simply stop walking with Him.  No violence.  No dramatic betrayal.  They just decide His words cost too much.

That may be the more ordinary danger.

So don’t pass the verse.  Read it slowly.  “Many of his disciples turned back and no longer walked with him.”

Then hear Jesus ask the Twelve:  “Do you want to go away as well?”

Don’t answer for Peter.  Answer for yourself.

When Christ says something hard, will you edit Him?  Or follow Him?

Pause there.