This passage looks really distressing, particularly the part about family members betraying one another. Why does Jesus have such a dark view of the future? Is this all he had to offer his followers?
Matthew has already shown us what lies behind it—the increasingly bitter resentment and antagonism toward Jesus and the good news of God’s love that he preaches and practices. When the very devout begin claiming that he is in league with the “ruler of the demons” (9:34), that can lead rather easily to judicial and physical violence.
Jesus frames his warnings in language drawn from the apocalyptic writings of his time (the Biblical books of Daniel or Revelation are examples). Such writings tended to predict an imminent period of overwhelming disaster for humanity, including the breakdown of human relationships and a great increase in injustice and violence. This disastrous time would also turn out to be a judgement since it would highlight the divide between the good and the evil.
But this time of evils was expected to give way to a new and better world. This is why Jesus says, “The one who endures to the end will be saved” (10:22). There is hope beyond the suffering of the present.
Does that mean Jesus is advocating martyrdom?
He doesn’t recommend it as such, just acknowledges it as a possibility in any true and faithful human life—as, for that matter, it has always been and still is. People have always been at risk of suffering for their principles. But Jesus recommends caution: “Be wise as serpents and innocent as doves” (10:16). The snake is capable of slipping away quickly and inconspicuously from what looks like a dangerous situation. Doves generally behave peaceably with one another. “Wise” and “harmless”—it translates to something like “Give people no occasion to be threatened by you, but keep your eyes open and don’t throw your life away carelessly.” After all, he says, there will always be another town that needs to hear your message (10:23).
Of course, we already know that, in the end, Jesus didn’t fully follow his own advice. His harmlessness looked extremely threatening to the power brokers of his day, and he made no effort to escape those who would kill him.
But why does he tell them not to formulate a defense? Wouldn’t it be a wise thing to think your case through carefully—maybe even find a good lawyer?
They already have their defense. It’s the good news of God’s love that they’re being sent out to proclaim. He doesn’t want them to lose that center of focus. They’re the bearers of God’s love and they have no plan or purpose other than that. Jesus would doubtless have been appalled by the church’s repeated immersing of itself in the politics of one age or another, including many American Evangelicals’ wedding of themselves to the Republican Party and a profane president.
At the same time, he admits that the disciples may often find themselves condemned in advance. After all, the devout are starting to identify Jesus with the demonic Lord “Beelzebul”—an ancient deity of the city of Ekron regarded, by Jesus’ time, as a demon. If Jesus is Beelzebul, then his disciples must be on the side of the demons.
So he tells them that there’s a lot to be afraid of and then says, “So have no fear of them”? (vs. 26)
Yes, just like Jesus, isn’t it? He never smooths over the realities. He just tells us to get a different perspective on them. In the big picture, he insists, it all looks very different. Truth will eventually emerge; so stay on the side of light, the side of the good news. Don’t even be afraid of people who are about to kill you.
But apparently there is somebody worth fearing, the one “who can destroy both soul and body in hell.” Who is that? The devil? (vs. 28)
We’ve inherited a mental and visual image of demons poking the damned with their pitchforks. So that’s probably the first thought for most of us. We could also wonder whether this being is God, who has final power to judge and punish. But I suspect that it’s neither. I think Jesus is telling us about ourselves. If someone threatens to destroy either your life, that’s one thing. If they threaten to destroy your integrity, your sense of what is true and meaningful, beautiful and good—all that is most profoundly important to you—they can succeed only if you let it happen. Martyrs for all kinds of truth over the ages have drawn the conclusion that if they must sacrifice either their lives (their “bodies”) or their connection with what is true and good (their “souls”) it was better to give up their life than to surrender their deep commitment to what is true and good. You, then, are the only one who has the power to destroy your soul. Only you can betray your deepest sense of what is true and right. And you may be tempted to do it if you begin to fear the one who can destroy only your body.
That helps make sense of the saying about the sparrows and the hairs of your head that follows.
Yes. God loves all human beings and desires only life for us. We are the ones that get in the way of that.
That sounds comforting, but what follows it doesn’t!
Yes again. We have some either/or sayings not unlike those in the Sermon on the Mount. “Either acknowledge me and I will acknowledge you before God, or deny me and I will deny you.” (10:32-33) “Do not think I’ve come to bring peace; I’ve come to sharpen all your conflicts.” (10:34-36)
If you save your life by giving up all that gives your life meaning and hope, you will, in reality, lose it. (10:39) It’s particularly shocking for Jesus to say “Whoever does not take up the cross and follow me is not worthy of me,” for there has been no talk of crosses up to this point, not even a prediction that Jesus would wind up on one.
He seems to be focusing more on himself here than he usually does, doesn’t he?
It does sound that way, and people have misread vss. 32-33 as saying that you have to be Christian or God will reject you. In the context of Matthew’s Gospel, that seems very unlikely. Everybody in this book is either Jewish or Gentile. There is no separate “Christian” religion yet. Acknowledging Jesus, then, means affirming the good news he teaches and practices; denying him means the rejection or betrayal of that good news.
But then why does Matthew wind the discourse up with another of his whiplash effects? Is there any connection between all these threats and the last three verses of chapter 10, which sound almost cheerful?
Jesus has been completely frank here about the dangers of being a serious follower of his. It would be easy to lose sight, in this discourse to the Twelve, of why anybody would want to risk it at all. So it’s important that he concludes by reminding them of the heart of his message, the thing that makes it worthwhile. The message is about God’s love—love so powerful and pervasive that it overflows anybody who has received it and spills out onto anyone who treats them with even common human decency. You don’t even have to be a disciple, just recognize and welcome the message they carry, just offer a cup of cold water.
It’s love that makes Jesus overflow with healing, that makes his goodness overpower and counteract the contagiousness of impurity. And it can grasp people and fill them with a new sense of hope and possibility.

Next up: PEOPLE ARE BREAKING INTO THE KINGDOM (11:1-15)