286+ articles · Verse by verse
Long-form study. Plain English.
Every article does the hard work — what the words meant to the first readers, the historical context, the first-century background — then hands it to you in words you already know.
286 articles · page 3 of 12

The Spirit does not lead Jesus into the wilderness, Mark says it drove Him. Forty days, no food, wild beasts, and a body at its limit.

Jesus walks out of a town people used as a punchline and into the Jordan. Luke says all the people were being baptised, which means there were witnesses.

Wayside, stony ground, thorns, good soil. The most familiar parable in the Gospels, heard the way the crowd on that shoreline would have heard it.

Step twenty-seven: love yourself. The irony is that we are not short on self-love, we are drowning in it, and still looking outward for the problem.

Up to here Mark has been all action: healings, exorcisms, rising opposition. Now the story turns and Jesus starts to teach in parables. Why that matters.

Step twenty-six: play the victim. Carry a laminated victim card into every conversation, and nothing is ever yours to own or to fix.

Why would Jesus teach in a way that hides as much as it reveals? His answer to the twelve is harder than most of us would like it to be.

Step twenty-five: keep a double standard. Culture insists it is only physical, so why does a casual fling end up feeling like a funeral?

The scribes came down from Jerusalem with a verdict ready: He has Beelzebub. Jesus answers with a question that takes their logic apart.

Step twenty-four: adopt everyone else's convictions. Borrowed rules never stick, and when they fall off, the shame arrives right on schedule.

Step twenty-three: rescue people. Jump in after them, skip the life jacket, and quietly enjoy how necessary it makes you feel.

Step twenty-two: spiral. One correction at work and by two in the afternoon you are browsing job listings and pricing out a whole new life.

Only Mark preserves the raw line. His own family came to take hold of Him, saying, “He is out of His mind.”

Step twenty-one: pick a side and draw your sword. No nuance, no conversation, no wrestling with truth. Just divide, dismiss, and unfriend.

Jesus climbs a mountain and calls out twelve names. This is not team-building. Mark wants you thinking about Sinai, and about twelve tribes.

A man with a withered hand, and a room full of people watching to see whether Jesus will break the Sabbath. He looks around at them in anger, and heals him anyway.

New wine bursts old wineskins. Jesus is not patching up the religion of His day, and He says so with two images nobody in that crowd could misunderstand.

They came from Galilee, Judea, Idumea, Tyre and Sidon. Mark lists the regions deliberately, and the list is already reaching past Israel.

Step twenty: live like there is no tomorrow. Every decade I have lived through came with its own apocalypse, and here we still are.

Jesus calls a tax collector, then eats dinner at his house with his friends. Of all the scandals in Mark, this is the one the religious leaders could not stomach.

Step eighteen continued: marriage in midlife is one person under three blankets while the other stands in front of an open freezer. Part two.

Four friends could not get through the door, so they dug through the roof. Jesus looks at the man on the mat and forgives him, which was not what anyone came for.

Step eighteen: resent aging. Birthdays hit differently now, and nobody prepares you for what midlife actually asks of a body. Part one.

Cut off from family, banished from worship, shouting “unclean” with every breath. Then Jesus does the one thing nobody does to a leper. He touches him.