Have you ever considered the peculiar and unsettling relationship Jesus Christ had with the crowds of His day? These were not passive observers or disinterested spectators of His ministry. Picture them for a moment—this sea of humanity following Him from village to village, hanging on His every word, marveling at His miracles, yet never entirely understanding who He was.
They trailed behind Him like children chasing a spectacle.
They shouted in adulation during His triumphal entry into Jerusalem.
And shockingly, these same voices joined in the mob’s cry at His trial: “Crucify Him! Crucify Him!”
The truth, as Jesus understood it better than anyone, is that the crowd’s loyalty was shallow, their admiration conditional. They were willing to follow Him only as long as He conformed to their expectations or fulfilled their desires. For many, Jesus was useful. They saw Him as political collateral, an instrument to further their own aims or affirm their ideologies.

Last November the pastor of a local church in Charlotte, in his anger at the reelection of Donald Trump, equated those who voted for the Republican candidate with the crowd that chose Barabbas over Jesus. This was preached in a Baptist church, and though the rhetoric was inflammatory, it was, in some ways, revealing. Even those who claim allegiance to Christ are often tempted to weaponize Him for their agendas. This isn’t new. We’ve been here before.
In Jesus’ time, even the chief priests and scribes recognized the volatile power of the crowd. They hesitated to arrest Him during the Passover, fearing the very people who had cheered for His miracles would riot. But they knew something we often forget: crowds are fickle and easy to manipulate. It takes little effort to sway public opinion, especially when the crowd’s allegiance has no root in truth but in utility. Once Jesus no longer served their purpose, the tide shifted. The same hands that waved palm branches on Sunday clenched into fists by Friday.
Why does this matter? Because we modern Christians, particularly Americans, love to imagine ourselves as rugged individuals, defying the mob and marching to the beat of our own drum. We cherish the myth of nonconformity. Yet, if we are honest, we often conform in subtler ways.
The events of the past week offer a poignant illustration. Inauguration Day brought complaints from all sides, with narratives spun not from principle but from partisanship. Crowds cheered or jeered not because of truth, but because of political alignment.

Crowds are shaped by convenience, not conviction. Opinions shift with the winds of popularity. Even in the Church, leaders who once stood on the truth of the gospel are tempted to water it down for the sake of relevance.
This week’s gathering at the National Cathedral’s interfaith prayer service was a sobering reminder. Christ’s teachings were invoked, but they were twisted into a version that conveniently aligned with the Bishop’s political platform—not Christ.
It was not truth to power but opinion to agenda-makers, and it is blasphemous.
Have we become the very crowd we condemn? Have we molded Jesus to fit our preferences, bending His words to suit our agendas? This is no new temptation.
I have lost count of the books, sermons, and speeches in which the authors or speakers profess love for Jesus but simultaneously reshape Him into an image palatable to modern sensibilities. They imagine that Jesus is out of touch with our enlightened age, and so they take it upon themselves to update His teachings--as though the eternal God needed their help.
Christians are to be a people set apart, peculiar, and unashamedly different from the world. But we don’t want to be peculiar. We fear the discomfort of difference. And so, we capitulate. We negotiate with the world, hoping to make Jesus acceptable rather than remaining faithful to Him as He is. It is not our calling to make Jesus fit the narrative of the age. It is to follow Him, speak as He spoke, and suffer as He suffered.
Jesus never catered to the crowd. He loved them, yes, but He did not chase their approval. He did not dilute the truth to secure their loyalty. He challenged them, knowing full well that truth would cost Him their affection and, ultimately, His life. As His followers, we are called to do the same.
When the world demands that we conform and bend the truth to fit its ever-shifting narrative, we must refuse. When the mob insists that we join their chant, we must have the courage to remain silent or, if necessary, to speak out, even if it makes us hated.
The crowd that cheered Jesus into Jerusalem became the mob that condemned Him at the cross. The same dynamic exists today in political rallies, church gatherings, and social media platforms. But Jesus shows us another way. He calls us not to be swayed by the crowd but anchored in the truth. We are called to embrace the peculiar path of the cross—the path that refuses to chase applause or bend to the will of the mob but remains steadfast, faithful, and obedient to the Father.
God help us to be a Church that does not pander to the crowd but bears witness to the truth, even when the crowd turns against us. In the end, it is not the praise of the crowd that matters, but the voice of the One who will say, “Well done, good and faithful servant.”
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