"he could do no mighty work there," except heal a few sick people; "And he marveled because of their unbelief" (Mark 6:5–6).

I have commented on this elsewhere, but it bears repeating. Some have suggested that Jesus could not do miracles in Nazareth because He needed the faith of others to make His miracles work. This conclusion is problematic, since He also raised the dead — and can the dead exercise faith? In the next chapter, Jesus heals the Syrophoenician woman's daughter; it was not the daughter's faith that healed her, but the mother's.

The words "could do no" do not suggest a lack of ability on Jesus' part, but rather the futility or inappropriateness of doing miracles in a place of stubborn unbelief. For example, if I said to a friend, "I can't bring my loud boombox into the library," I would not mean that I am physically unable, but that it would either be disallowed by the library staff or be out of place in an environment where quiet is the norm.

Friends, this is significant because many people today claim a gift of healing. When they fail, some blame the sick person's lack of faith. Yet if they were true healers, I believe their own faith should have been sufficient. In my view, apart from those occasions when God heals in spite of the self-proclaimed healer, many modern healing claims that have been examined have turned out to involve conditions that improve on their own or were never verified. Although such false claims may seem harmless in themselves, they can cause great distress and suffering to people who are not healed, or who fail to seek necessary medical care because of a faith healer's influence. What is more, miracles, even counterfeit ones, lend a kind of authority to those who claim them. So when false miracles are combined with false teaching, they pose a great danger to the true faith. We must all be alert!

AI-Expanded Reflection

The comment's reading of Mark 6:5 is a common one, and Matthew's parallel supports it: "he did not do many mighty works there, because of their unbelief" (Matthew 13:58). Matthew's "did not" suggests Jesus' choice rather than a limit on His power. Nazareth's unbelief was not a lack of faith in the sick individuals so much as the town's settled refusal to accept Him — "Is not this the carpenter, the son of Mary?... And they took offense at him" (Mark 6:3). Even so, Mark notes that Jesus still healed a few sick people there. His compassion was not entirely withheld.

On contemporary healing claims, Christians differ. Cessationists, like the comment, hold that the gift of healing ended with the apostles, while God continues to heal in answer to prayer. Continuationists hold that gifts of healing continue, and many among them share the comment's concerns about exaggerated claims and about blaming the sick for lack of faith — a practice Scripture does not support (Paul left Trophimus ill, 2 Timothy 4:20, and Epaphroditus nearly died, Philippians 2:27). All agree with the comment's pastoral warning: no one should be discouraged from seeking medical care, which Scripture treats as fully compatible with faith (Luke, "the beloved physician," Colossians 4:14; James 5:14–15, which pairs prayer with anointing, often understood medicinally in its day).

When Jesus sent out the Twelve, and later the Seventy-Two in Luke 10, He instructed them to take nothing for the journey except a staff — no bread, no bag, no money in their belts; to wear sandals but not an extra shirt; to stay in whatever house received them until they left the town; and if a place would not welcome or listen to them, to leave and shake the dust off their feet as a testimony against them (a paraphrase of Mark 6:8–11).

Referencing these commands, Paul wrote that in the same way the Lord has commanded that those who preach the gospel should receive their living from the gospel (a reference to 1 Corinthians 9:14).

This is perhaps the most frequently cited passage in defense of the long-established tradition of a minister's salary. Yet the nearest thing to a command of the Lord regarding those who preach is this sending out of the Twelve and the Seventy-Two — and there is not a hint of a salary in it. Quite the contrary: Jesus taught that these itinerant ministers should accept whatever was given to supply their basic necessities.

So while modern interpreters may read "receive their living from the gospel" as an annual salary, the Scriptures here speak of food, drink, clothing, and shelter. What is more, when Paul discusses support in 1 Corinthians 9, he is particularly referencing itinerant preachers whose frequent travel would make established employment difficult — and even so, he declines the support himself.

AI-Expanded Reflection

The exegetical observation is a fair one and worth taking seriously: the command Paul invokes really is the sending-out passage, and what it describes is hospitality meeting immediate need rather than compensation.

The other half of Paul's argument deserves equal weight, though, because he spends most of 1 Corinthians 9 establishing the right before declining it. He appeals to soldiers not serving at their own expense, to farmers eating from the vineyard, to the oxen not muzzled while treading grain, and to the priests eating from the temple offerings. His conclusion is that those who preach have a genuine right to live from it — and then that he has not used this right, and would rather die than lose his ground for boasting. A man arguing that a right does not exist does not argue that way.

So both things are in the text: the support described in the Gospels is modest and need-based, and Paul treats support as a real entitlement that a minister may waive. Christians differ substantially on what follows for how churches should compensate their pastors today, and the question involves considerations — settled congregations rather than itinerant ministry, family responsibilities, the cost of theological training — that the first-century texts do not address directly. The comment's underlying caution about proportion is worth hearing without treating the question as closed.

We read about Jesus being ridiculed in His hometown. He went there with His disciples, and when the Sabbath came He taught in the synagogue. Many who heard Him were amazed and asked where this man got these things — what wisdom was this, what remarkable miracles? Wasn't this the carpenter, Mary's son, the brother of James, Joseph, Judas, and Simon? Weren't His sisters there among them? And they took offense at Him. Jesus told them that a prophet is not without honor except in his own town, among his relatives, and in his own home. He could do no miracles there except lay hands on a few sick people and heal them, and He was amazed at their lack of faith (a paraphrase of Mark 6:1–6).

Jesus faces judgmental attitudes here. They knew Him as a child and are incredulous at the idea of their childhood neighbor being the Messiah. It's one of the harder challenges to Christian faith — sharing the gospel with old friends or family, people who knew us as children or before we were saved. They know our past, our history, our failings, and that makes our testimony harder. There's generally skepticism about our transformation, and we can sound self-righteous or hypocritical to people who knew us in a different light. It's ironic, because family and old friends mean the most to us, and all the more we want to share the good news with them. I've made a commitment to share the gospel more fervently this year, starting with family and old friends.

AI-Expanded Reflection

The particular obstacle Mark identifies is familiarity rather than ignorance, and the objection the crowd raises is worth reading carefully: everything they say about Jesus is factually accurate. He was the carpenter, He was Mary's son, His siblings were known to them. Their error isn't bad information but the conclusion drawn from good information — that someone whose ordinary origins they could account for could not be anything more than that.

The pastoral application this comment draws is apt, and the Gospel record supplies a modest encouragement to go with it. Among the brothers listed here as taking offense is James, who elsewhere is described as not believing during Jesus's ministry (John 7:5) and who later leads the Jerusalem church and writes a New Testament letter. The people closest to us are often the last to be convinced, and Mark's account suggests that is a feature of proximity rather than a verdict on the case being made.

Friends, even though this is from yesterday's reading, I want to share this with you to encourage you to be like this brother, who emailed me with a different point of view regarding my sharing on the reason Jesus told those He healed not to tell others. He wrote...

I'm not certain that the reason Jesus warned people not to tell people about the healings, etc., was to avoid being killed. He certainly didn't so warn the lame man by the pool of Bethesda in John 5; or the blind man that He healed in John 9. And he received persecution by the religious leaders as a result of both of these healings.

However, this warning of Jesus is referred to as "the Messianic secret". Perhaps He didn't want people to follow him for their selfish reasons; perhaps (in His humanity) He was limited as to how much He was able to accomplish in His limited time; and He feared lest He would not be able to fulfill the Father's will for Him on earth, if throngs came to Him to achieve their personal desires. There are reasons, other than just the one you suggest. In any case, I think you make a good point about Jesus not purposely seeking death. And, just as Jesus didn't throw Himself from the pinnacle of the Temple, as the devil urged Him to do, we shouldn't take foolish chances with our own lives; believing, as the devil urged Jesus to believe, that the Father would protect Him from death. I think that's a very good point. Well done!

AI-Expanded Reflection

The reader contributes more than a competing theory. By naming John 5 and John 9, he asks whether a general explanation accounts for examples that do not seem to fit. This is a valuable interpretive practice: a proposal becomes stronger when it survives contact with inconvenient passages, and more precise when exceptions reveal its limits. Agreeing with the practical application does not require accepting every historical explanation offered in support of it.

The phrase “Messianic secret” names a feature readers have observed in Mark, but it does not itself explain the reason for every silence command. Different proposals must still be tested against individual scenes. Mark describes both withdrawal from crowds and compassion toward them; Jesus also commands the restored man in the Decapolis to tell his household what the Lord has done. Publicity is therefore governed by mission and setting, rather than treated as inherently desirable or inherently dangerous. Read Mark 1:35–45 and 5:18–20.

The reader's suggestions about selfish motives and human limitations are appropriately expressed as possibilities. The additional suggestion that Jesus feared failing the Father's assignment is less directly supported. The Gospels portray fatigue and distress, but those realities should not automatically be converted into uncertainty about his ability to accomplish the mission. Distinguishing a stated human experience from an inferred motive protects the integrity of the discussion.

The exchange also demonstrates how correction can remain fraternal. The reader identifies the particular point of disagreement and affirms a conclusion he does share: trusting God does not authorize reckless self-endangerment. Such precision reduces the temptation to treat an objection as rejection of the whole person. In a community formed by Scripture, a thoughtful counterexample can become an act of care rather than a contest for intellectual superiority.

Friends, have you ever wondered why Jesus repeatedly commanded those whom He healed not to tell others about the healing? For instance, we read that there were some who witnessed Jesus heal a man who was deaf and mute. In Mark 7:36 we read," Then He commanded them that they should tell no one." But instead of obeying His command, we are told, "But the more He commanded them, the more widely they proclaimed it." And there are many instances of this throughout the Gospels.

I have heard all kinds of explanations for this. Most often I have heard that Jesus commanded this because He was modest and humble and did not care for the great popularity and acclaim that this would attract. But is this true? Why perform any signs at all then? Why feed the five thousand? He could have just as well sent them away to buy their own food. Did He not come to earth to make the Father known? When John the Baptist was in prison and sent his disciples to ask whether Jesus was the true Messiah, Jesus tells the disciples to report back to John the miracles Jesus was doing. Even to His own disciples Jesus says that if they could not believe His words alone, they should believe on account of the miracles.

The most reasonable explanation is one that I rarely hear preached. Yet, it comes straight from the biblical accounts. In Matthew 12:16–21, after Jesus heals all who were ill, we read,

He warned them not to tell others about him. This was to fulfill what was spoken through the prophet Isaiah: “Here is my servant whom I have chosen, the one I love, in whom I delight; I will put my Spirit on him, and he will proclaim justice to the nations. He will not quarrel or cry out; no one will hear his voice in the streets. A bruised reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out, till he leads justice to victory. In his name the nations will put their hope.”

This citation is from Isaiah 42:1–4, speaking of the coming Servant, the Messiah. It foretells that the focus of the Messiah will be on leading "justice to victory," and until then, He would avoid all unnecessary quarrels, conflicts and entanglements. But what entanglements would announcing His miracles create?

Announcing His miracles attracted crowds and the kind of attention that raised the ire of the religious rulers. In fact, by this point, they were already trying to kill Him. In fact, just before this passage, Jesus healed a man with a shriveled hand on the Sabbath. And we are told that the Pharisees thereafter plotted to kill Him. Then we read, "Aware of this, Jesus withdrew from that place" (Matthew 12:15). Jesus did not want to die before His time. He was clearly trying to avoid confrontation with the Pharisees.

Again in John 4:1–3 we learn,

Now Jesus learned that the Pharisees had heard that he was gaining and baptizing more disciples than John— although in fact it was not Jesus who baptized, but his disciples. So he left Judea and went back once more to Galilee.

Even though it was only hearsay that He was baptizing more people than John, the Pharisees believed it, and it was sufficient reason for Jesus to move on. Once again, at this point in His ministry, Jesus was trying to avoid unnecessary confrontation with the religious leaders. The time was not yet for Him to die. Our understanding is confirmed later in John 7:1, where we read,

After this, Jesus went around in Galilee. He did not want to go about in Judea because the Jewish leaders there were looking for a way to kill him.

Jesus was seeking to avoid the murderous religious rulers. It was not time for Him to die. When the time would come, He would fully and purposefully embrace His fate.

There are many other occasions, where Jesus commands different groups, even demons, to be silent about Who He was and about the miracles He was performing (e.g. Mark 3:12; 7:36; 8:30; 9:9; Luke 8:56; 9:21). In all these instances it was to avoid the murderous plots of the religious rulers. The demons announcing Jesus is the "Son of God" would be a quick death sentence, for this was the very "blasphemy" for which the Jewish Council would ultimately condemn Jesus to death. And there are accounts where we are told that the crowds were ready to anoint Jesus as their earthly king, which would also be a quick death sentence, for this was the very sedition against "Caesar" for which reason Pilate, the Roman Governor, with pressure by the religious rulers, justified condemning Jesus to crucifixion. Thus, throughout Jesus' ministry He sought to avoid premature death.

Friends, there is a saying, "Christians are immortal in the will of God." Some, hopefully only a few, take this to mean that they are impervious to death. They could jump in front of a car and not die. They reason that unless it is their time to die, they will not die; and if they do die, it is because it was God's will. Most of us would consider this absolutely foolish, and we would be right. However, how do we persuade the religious "nuts," who speak like this, to understand their wrongful thinking?

Well, in today's sharing we have a biblical argument against such foolish thinking. No one would argue against Jesus being perfectly in the center of God's will, so that He would not, and perhaps even could not, die until His time. Nevertheless, we see Jesus taking great pains in His words and His actions to avoid premature death. He was fixated on fulfilling His mission. Instead of speaking and acting foolishly, we learn that He uses parables and tries to keep a low profile in order to avoid conflict. And even then, His accusers have to invent reasons to condemn Him because He has not given them anything but stories (parables) and He avoided the seditious attempts by the people to make Him king.

Let us also, then, exercise wisdom as we live to serve the Lord.

AI-Expanded Reflection

The response brings together two features of the Gospels that belong together: Jesus reveals the Father through mighty works, yet he sometimes restricts their publicity. Public recognition alone is not the aim of his ministry. Recognition must be shaped by the kind of Messiah he actually is. A crowd can celebrate power while resisting the path of suffering, and an accurate title can still be used within a mistaken understanding of his mission.

Matthew explicitly relates Jesus' withdrawal and warning against publicity to Isaiah's portrait of the servant who brings justice without crushing the bruised reed. Avoiding premature confrontation fits that setting, especially where opponents are already plotting his death. Mark 1:45 also describes a practical consequence of uncontrolled publicity: Jesus can no longer enter towns openly. These details support the author's concern about the effect of crowds and opposition. Read Matthew 12:14–21 and Mark 1:40–45.

A single explanation should nevertheless not be imposed on every command to silence. Mark 9:9 explicitly connects disclosure of the transfiguration with the resurrection, suggesting that the meaning of Jesus' identity becomes intelligible through the completed saving events. Silence imposed on demons also concerns who is permitted to bear witness. The avoidance of premature death is important, but these contexts give additional reasons for restraint.

The practical conclusion is sound when stated without fatalism. Jesus' confidence in the Father did not lead him to manufacture danger or confuse recklessness with courage. He could withdraw when the mission called for withdrawal and proceed toward Jerusalem when obedience required suffering. Discerning between those actions is more demanding than adopting a slogan about being invulnerable until one's appointed time. Faithfulness asks what serves the Father's purposes here, including responsible care for one's life and for the people affected by one's decisions.