Have you ever been accused of something and known that defending yourself would only make it worse?

I remember a staff meeting once when I made a suggestion that was immediately shut down. The senior leader’s reaction was swift and dismissive: “That won’t work.” My emotional reaction was immediate. I could feel my face flush. I wanted to argue, to prove my point.

But something stopped me.

Maybe it was wisdom, but I don’t want to give myself too much credit. Probably it was just fear. But I stayed quiet. Later, I was thankful. Pushing back in that moment would have escalated the conflict without changing anyone’s mind.

In today's story, Jesus faces a similar moment, but with much higher stakes.

My boss, a dynamic senior pastor about 45 years old, told me something that hurt, but changed my life.

I was a young ministry professional around 25 years old, serving at a large church. He said, “Len, you have knowledge, but you need wisdom.”My first thought was, what's the difference?

For the first time, we meet the teachers of the law.

Anyone familiar with the gospel story knows the stereotype: a group of sniveling, pompous robe-clutchers who could never see the forest for their obsession with the trees.

But not so fast. The scribes—the teachers of the law—are not cartoon villains. To understand the tension of this moment, we have to see them for what they were: earnest thinkers shaped by their time.

Jesus says, “Your sins are forgiven.”

In the corner, a group of men stand up to show their disapproval.

It’s the teachers of the law, those who study, interpret, and teach God’s word. They don’t say anything, but their body language says it all: Who does this man think he is? Only God can forgive sins. This is blasphemy.

Jesus turns to face them. “Why are you thinking these things?”

The tension escalates.

The conflict that will define the rest of Mark’s Gospel has just begun.

The first hurt comes from friendly fire.

The conflict that defines Jesus’ ministry doesn’t come from Rome or from obvious enemies. It came from colleagues—the teachers of the law, the very ones who should have been supporting Him.

When Jesus says to the paralyzed man, “Your sins are forgiven,” the teachers in the room bristle. Who does this man think he is? Only God can forgive sins. This is blasphemy.

They don’t attack Him with swords or accusations. They just stand up, and their disapproving body language says everything.

Up until that moment, everything had been smooth sailing. Crowds were coming and Jesus was healing. But now, opposition emerges from the religious establishment.

The very people who should have been celebrating what God was doing.

Have you ever been hit with friendly fire?

Each scene in the fist two seasons of the More Like Jesus series explores one of the lies we carry about God, life, and ourselves—using Scripture, reflection, and prayer to help you discover what it means to follow Jesus.

You don’t need to bring expertise or have your questions figured out. You just need to show up.

Here are a few recommendations for what to do.

Many of us spend our lives trying to make incremental adjustment to things.

We read self-help books, adopt new habits, and try to become better versions of ourselves. Some of us even try to use Jesus as a resource for our goals: inspiration for our Monday mornings, wisdom for our difficult relationships, comfort for our anxious nights.

We get little verses sent to us on our phones.

We share reels.

The danger is what I call “instrumental faith”—using Jesus as a tool to improve the life we’re already building. The root of our modern word “improve” is financial: to increase the value.

Jesus has no interest in being used as a tool to improve our value.

What if the biggest obstacle to faith isn’t doubt, but disappointment? Not necessarily disappointment with God, though this happens, but disappointment with God’s people.

Maybe you’ve heard someone say something like this, or you’ve said it yourself:

“Jesus, yes. Church, no.”

Behind such a sentiment lives a story.

The number one reason people reject faith is not anything about God or Jesus, but what happens when God’s people serve as poor emissaries. When I talk to people about Christian faith and the church, one of the top reasons people give for rejecting the whole scene is how the people who talk most about Christianity seem least capable of living it.

I carried around such flesh wounds for years without naming them.

More Like Jesus is a verse-by-verse walk through the Gospel of Mark — not a Bible study in the usual sense, but what I call a Story Study. The idea is simple: the first disciples didn’t figure Jesus out and then follow him. They followed first. Understanding came later, in the walking.

If your prayers have gotten shorter lately, or hope feels like a slow leak — you’re not as alone as it feels. Come walk with me. The first story starts next.