Not Joining the Crowd
Religion scholar Diana Butler Bass ponders the crowd’s outrage after Jesus’ first sermon in Nazareth (Luke 4:18–30)—and the courage required to resist it:
A preacher gets up, quotes scripture, and reminds the gathered congregation that God loves the outcast—those in fear for their lives—the poor, prisoners, the disabled, and the oppressed.
In response, an outraged mob tries to kill the preacher….
Jesus spoke directly to the congregation saying that God loved widows and those stricken with leprosy—implying that his neighbors had not treated widows and lepers justly. They praised God’s words about justice but were not acting on God’s command to enact mercy toward outcasts.
That’s when they “all” got angry and turned into a mob. At least, the majority of them didn’t want to hear this. They flew into a rage.
When they heard this, all in the synagogue were filled with rage. They got up, drove him out of the town, and led him to the brow of the hill on which their town was built, so that they might hurl him off the cliff. But he passed through the midst of them and went on his way. [Luke 4:28–30]
… What do you do when the mob turns ugly? When widows and lepers, when LGBTQ people and immigrants, are afraid and treated cruelly—and when a brave prophet calls out the self-righteous? What do you do when there’s a lynch mob or a cross-burning?
I suspect the unnamed heroes of this story stepped outside of the “all,” not willing to be part of the totality, and made a way for the intended victim to pass safely. Did they spot one another in the angry throng? A furtive glance, seeing another hesitant face across the room? Maybe they moved toward one another, hoping to keep each other safe. Did a few others notice the two and the small band then began to multiply? The “all” was furious; the few didn’t understand how it had come to this.
It was frightening for them; it must have been hard to go against their family, friends, and neighbors. As they followed the mob to the bluff, they must have worried that if they spoke up they could be thrown off, too. But instead of submitting to the tyranny of the “all,” maybe they formed a little alternative community in solidarity with each other. When Jesus was herded to the cliff, perhaps it was they who saw an opening—made an opening—and helped him escape. He passed through the midst of them and went on his way.
That is, indeed, a miracle. The bystanders find the courage to do something.
If Jesus needed that, so do we…. We must form squads of love and make a path through together … no matter how fearsome the mob.
And that’s the overlooked miracle of Luke 4: Only a community—even one that goes unnoticed in the crowd—the band that refuses to join the rabble—can keep us from going completely over the edge.
Untangling Twisted Teachings:
A Journey to Joy and Identity
by Jennifer Cochrane. (@Life Model Works)
At 45, I began the painful but freeing process of learning to live from the heart Jesus gave me. Ironically, it was “church hurt” that became the catalyst for discovering true healing and identity.
I was raised in environments steeped in legalism and performance-based Christianity—a rigid home, a fundamentalist school, and a denomination more focused on theology than genuine connection. Joy—the deep assurance that God and others delighted in me—was missing.
I internalized damaging messages:
- God’s acceptance was conditional.
- I was inherently worthless.
- My emotions and needs were dangerous and needed to be suppressed.
After becoming a believer at 32, these lies only deepened as I absorbed teachings on biblical womanhood: that my primary role was to serve men, that my discernment was inherently flawed, and that forgiveness meant unconditional relationship—regardless of harm.
These teachings fractured my sense of self and left me with no voice, no confidence, and a deep ache I couldn’t name. When my suppressed emotions of grief and anger finally surfaced, I felt overwhelmed and lost.
But in that painful season, I began to hear God’s voice for myself.
One night, in the midst of my confusion, I heard Him whisper:
“You have value to Me. And I’m not okay with the way you’re being treated.”
It was a turning point.
God gently began dismantling the lies that had bound me. I slowly reclaimed my agency and began trusting my own discernment again. Though I wrestled with triggers—tightening in my chest, swirling anxious thoughts, and a sense of dread when stepping into traditional church environments—they gradually lost their power as I allowed God to meet me in my pain.
God’s promises of “hope and a future” (Jeremiah 29:11) and “wide open spaces” (Psalm 18:19) began to manifest. He provided a life-giving, multi-generational community at work and supportive friendships that mirrored my true identity. Healthy men in my life challenged my distorted view of masculinity, showing me compassion and kindness. These people held space for my grief and didn’t rush my healing process. Over time, I began to see myself through heaven’s eyes and experience the joy and freedom I had longed for.
I also began learning about attachment, relational circuits, and fear/love bonds, which brought clarity to my past and healing to my present.
Looking back, I’m amazed at God’s faithfulness to redeem what was broken.
If you’re walking through the pain of “church hurt,” know this:
God’s commitment to your healing is deeper than your own.
Courageously face the pain.
Let Him untangle the lies.
And ask Him to bring even a few safe, like-hearted people who will walk with you toward wholeness.
From Living from the Heart Jesus Gave You, p.20:
“Central to the Christian experience is an unchanging belief that God is at work in all things for the good of those who love Him (Rom. 8:28), and that means all things. He is particularly at work when we are stuck in pain that seems to be endless and meaningless. The time-honored Christian approach to pain and wholeness involves our activity as well as God’s: His work in us is to bring redemption to all of the traumas that have broken us, and our work is to strive for maturity as we progress to wholeness. The word ‘redemption’ is sometimes difficult to understand, simply because it is used in so many contexts. Here is the way it is used in the Life Model: Redemption is God bringing good out of bad, leading us to wholeness, and the experience of God’s amazing power. Redemption means that out of our greatest pain can come our most profound personal mission in life.”
