Introduction

There’s a hush that can fall over a room when the name of Jesus is mentioned. Have you felt it? In a breakroom, at a family table, on a sideline—your heart lifts to speak and then, suddenly, your mouth feels dry. You care for the people around you. You don’t want to cause friction. You wonder if your words will be welcome. And yet, there’s this little flame within you, a love for Jesus that wants to be seen, a song that wants to be sung. That tension—timidity tugging at testimony—is familiar to many of us.

Jesus understands this. He knew the swirl of opinions, the fear of faces, the hunger for approval, and the hassle of pushback that His followers would face. He knew how our faith can become pocketed, private, polite. He also knew how a single sentence, spoken in love, can set a captive free; how a simple word of witness can light a candle in a darkened heart. He knew, and He spoke to it with care and clarity.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote, “When Christ calls a man, he bids him come and die.” (Dietrich Bonhoeffer, The Cost of Discipleship) That sounds severe until you remember whose call it is. The voice that calls us is the voice that calmed storms, fed crowds, healed wounds, and forgave sinners. When He calls, He gives grace. When He instructs, He supplies strength. When He sends, He stays near.

Our Scripture today is a strong word from a tender Savior. It’s a heart-check and a handhold all at once. Listen to it with open ears:

Mark 8:38 (ESV) “For whoever is ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of him will the Son of Man also be ashamed when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels.”

These are words that press on our fears and lift our eyes. They ask: Are we shrinking back from the best news the world could ever hear? Are we tucking away the truth that set us free? What if courage is simpler than we think—small steps, soft voices, steady allegiance? What if our ordinary moments are pulpits, and our everyday relationships are pathways where grace can walk?

Friend, your witness matters. Your gospel words—spoken with humility, offered with kindness—matter. The world may measure influence by platforms and followers. Heaven measures it by faithfulness. The Lord who will come in the glory of His Father with the holy angels sees the quiet confession, hears the trembling testimony, and strengthens the willing heart. He is worthy of open lips and open lives.

Today we will consider the peril of being ashamed, the call to bear His words openly, and the promise that strengthens our hearts. Expect encouragement. Expect the Spirit to put steel in your spine and sweetness in your speech. Expect Jesus to meet you where you are and move you forward a step at a time.

Opening Prayer: Lord Jesus, we love You. We confess that we have been timid with Your name and slow to speak Your words. Forgive us for the times we have treasured comfort more than witness. By Your Spirit, give us courage with compassion, boldness with kindness, and conviction with tenderness. Open our ears to Your voice and our mouths to Your message. Bring to mind the faces of those who need hope, and fill our hearts with Your love for them. Let this Scripture settle deep within us and shape us. Make our lives a clear, calm, consistent testimony to Your grace. We ask this in Your strong and saving name, Jesus. Amen.

The peril of being ashamed of Jesus

Shame is slippery. It does not always shout. It shows up in small edits. A nod. A shrug. A quick change of subject. It tells us to keep quiet so we will not stand out. It tells us to blend in so we will feel safe. It points to the crowd and says, Do what they do. It points to our fears and says, You will lose if you speak.

Shame works on the heart before it reaches the lips. It trains our feelings. It trains our habits. It teaches us to prize comfort. It teaches us to pull back from hard words. Over time, it shapes our choices. We start to hide parts of our faith. We hide who we are in Christ. We hide what He has said. We smile. We act fine. Inside, our peace grows thin.

Shame also steals from our neighbors. Silence keeps hope away. When we mute the name of Jesus, people near us miss the message that can heal them. They carry wounds. They carry guilt. They carry fears of their own. They need a clear word. They need a gentle word. They need the truth with love. Shame blocks that gift.

The words of Jesus in this text are plain. He speaks about being ashamed of Him and of His words. He tells us there is a day ahead when He will come in glory. He ties our present stance to that future day. He is clear so we will be clear too. He does not speak to harm us. He speaks to help us.

“Ashamed of me.” That is personal. It is about Him. Not just a set of ideas. A Person. The Lord calls us to identify with Him in real places with real people. At home. At work. At school. In a shop. In a text thread. To be ashamed of Him is to step back from that bond. It is to keep His name off our lips when His name should be there. It is to hide our link to Him when that link is the best thing about us.

This shows up in many ways. We speak of “faith” in vague terms but never say who our faith rests on. We talk about “values” without the source of those values. We wear a quiet label that no one can read. We do it to fit in. We do it so the room stays calm. Yet our Lord has tied Himself to us. He calls us by name. He has placed His mark on us in baptism. To carry His name in public is part of our love for Him.

Think of the title He uses for Himself in this verse. Son of Man. That title reaches back to Daniel. It speaks of the One who receives a kingdom that will never end. If He is that King, then to be linked to Him is life. To be shy about Him is to draw back from the very glory that will fill the earth. Public faith in Jesus is not flashy speech. It is steady identification. Simple words. Clear allegiance. Honest confession of who He is and who we are in Him.

“And of my words.” He does not separate Himself from what He has said. His words show His heart. His words carry His authority. They are good. They are true. They lead us to the cross and the empty tomb. They tell us how to live as His people. To be ashamed of His words means we trim them. We soften them beyond recognition. We keep the parts that please people and stash the rest away.

Some parts are easy to share. Many parts push against the grain of our times. Repent and believe. Take up your cross. Deny yourself. Forgive and keep on forgiving. Love your enemies. Be faithful in marriage. Flee sexual sin. Tell the truth. Keep your word. Care for the poor. Give in secret. Pray for those who mistreat you. Seek first the kingdom. These are His words. They are not optional. They are life.

When we feel the pull to edit Him, we must pause. He is the Teacher. We are learners. His words do not crush human joy. They protect it. They do not shrink human dignity. They restore it. Each command carries kindness. Each promise carries power. When His words sound hard, He stands with us to help us obey. When His words make us stand out, He stands by us. So we receive them as they are. We repeat them as they are. With tenderness. With patience. With care for the hearer.

“In this adulterous and sinful generation.” That phrase names the setting. It names a time marked by broken promise and wayward love. Covenant is treated like a toy. Worship bends toward self. People trade truth for trends. Many voices claim to save. Many paths claim to satisfy. That was true in the first century. It is true now in fresh forms.

In a climate like this, shame finds easy soil. It whispers that loyalty to Jesus is narrow. It suggests that His claims embarrass modern minds. It offers a bargain. Keep your faith private and you will be left alone. Keep your faith vague and you will be praised as wise. That bargain looks kind. It is costly. It hollows us out from within. It deprives our world of light and salt.

Faithfulness in a resistant age does not require a stage. It asks for clear lives and honest words. A simple grace before a meal. A quiet refusal to cut corners. A gentle mention of what Scripture says. A promise kept when it hurts. A calm “I follow Jesus” when asked what guides you. This is how we bear His name in a time like ours. This is how neighbors see something different and ask why.

“Of him will the Son of Man also be ashamed when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels.” This is a sobering line. It lifts our eyes to a real day. A day with splendor. A day with witnesses. A day when hidden things become clear. Jesus will return as Judge and King. He will speak about us as we have spoken about Him.

This word is meant to wake us up. It gives weight to our choices now. It teaches us to live today with that day in view. The eyes of people feel close. The eyes of heaven are closer. When we confess Him here, He will confess us there. He will own us before the Father. He will honor what grace enabled us to do. Public link to Jesus now leads to public welcome then.

Let this shape your courage. Your smallest confession matters. Your clear “Yes, He is my Lord” matters. Your open love for His words matters. The King does not forget. He sees every time you held fast when it was hard. He knows every time you spoke with care when it would have been easy to stay quiet. He keeps record in mercy. He will answer with honor when He comes in glory.

The call to bear his words openly

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