08/23/2026
Sword time.
Imagine this scene for a moment.
It’s fictional.
Jesus has just finished teaching.
Some people listened. Some walked away. A few whispered to each other. One man rolled his eyes. Another didn’t even acknowledge Him.
Jesus watches them leave.
Then He sits down.
Peter notices something is wrong.
“Lord, what is it?”
Jesus sighs.
“I don’t think they like Me.”
Peter looks confused.
Jesus continues.
“I saw the way that man looked at Me. And those people over there didn’t even come speak to Me when I finished teaching. I’ve been wondering if maybe I said something wrong.”
Peter doesn’t know what to say.
Jesus keeps going.
“Maybe I should’ve been funnier. Maybe I came across too strong. Maybe they’d like Me better if I acted differently.”
Then Jesus begins replaying every interaction.
Why didn’t they invite Me?
Why didn’t they thank Me?
Why did they talk to John but not Me?
Did you see the way she looked at Me?
Maybe they don’t want Me around.
And before long, Jesus is so consumed with wondering what everyone thinks about Him that He completely forgets about the hurting person sitting ten feet away.
The broken man He came to restore.
The woman who desperately needs to know the Father loves her.
The lonely person who needs to be seen.
The person trapped in darkness who needs Light.
Because now the entire world has become about whether people like Jesus.
Sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it?
Of course it does.
Because Jesus didn’t come into a room wondering,
“Do these people like Me?”
He came wondering,
“Who can I love?”
He wasn’t looking around measuring people's reactions to Him.
He was revealing the Father to them.
And maybe that’s part of the fog.
When I walk into a room asking,
Do they like me?
Did they notice me?
Why didn’t they talk to me?
What did that look mean?
Am I wanted here?
I can become so focused on how everyone is treating me that I completely miss who God placed in front of me to love.
The fog turns every face into a mirror.
Jesus teaches us to turn every face into a person.
Maybe freedom isn’t finally convincing yourself that everybody likes you.
Maybe freedom is reaching the place where that is no longer the question.
I know who I am.
I know Whose I am.
Now, Father—who can I love?