Ransom | The Kiss of Death (Mark 14:43-52)

Everyone has their price. We’re all chasing something and will pay almost any price to get it and keep it. Jesus had something on his mind and he was willing to do whatever it took to get it. Whenever everyone else fled away from the fight, Jesus rose up to meet it and embraced it because embracing it meant he could embrace you.

Transcript

We’re going to start today with an impromptu interactive survey question. Here it is: What characteristics would the ultimate follower of Jesus need to have? (Possible answers: Knowledge, insightfulness, compassion, determination, empathy etc.)  Every trait you just listed? That’s exactly what the disciples lacked that night in Gethsemane. And one of them—he didn’t just fail. He ran in naked shame. Now, who was the guy who ran away in naked shame…literally? More than likely, he’s the author of the Bible book we’re in: The Gospel of Mark.

Now, imagine yourself in the garden that night. The air is thick with tension, the kind you can feel in your bones. It’s dark, but the flickering torches cast eerie shadows. You’re young, barely more than a boy, but you’ve marveled at Jesus. The way He speaks, the way He loves, the way He moves with a quiet authority—it’s captivated you. But now, you see Him like never before. He’s emotionally wrecked, crushed under some unseen weight. You’re sleepy. A full Passover meal will do that to you. You try to keep your eyes open, but they’re so heavy. And then—chaos. Out of nowhere, Judas appears, a man you knew well, a friend, but now he looks different. There’s something cold in his eyes. And behind him? A whole army of rioters and soldiers. The clash of metal, the low murmur of voices, the quiet but unmistakable hum of violence brewing. They surround Jesus. And then it happens: Judas kisses Jesus. A kiss—a gesture of warmth, of love, of trust. And yet, this is a kiss of death. A betrayal of affection.

A kiss, something meant to symbolize friendship in their culture, now marks Him for destruction. The weight of betrayal is unbearable, suffocating. And suddenly, everything explodes. Swords flash, voices shout, fear seizes you. Someone grabs you. Is this it? Are you next? Without thinking, you bolt. You don’t just run—you abandon everything. Even your clothes. Shame burns your skin as you flee, naked and exposed, just like Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden when sin first shattered everything. The contrast is striking: You are running. But Jesus? He stands there, unmoving. Blaise Pascal once said, “All people’s miseries derive from not being able to sit in a quiet room alone.” And yet, Jesus doesn’t just sit—He alone stands firm when everyone else runs. You weren’t there that night in Gethsemane, neither was I. But tell me, have you ever run when the opportunity to stand with Jesus presented itself?

Maybe it was a family gathering. Someone made it clear—Jesus isn’t for them, church is a joke. Religion is toxic, useless, divisive. And you? You just nodded, offering no defense, no testimony, no voice. Maybe it was a coworker, throwing out subtle jabs at your faith, making it known that believers are backwards, ignorant. And you? You just grinned, letting it slide, hoping the conversation would shift. Maybe you’ve been looking at our invite board, and it brings you feelings of unworthiness, and you think, “I’m not courageous enough to invite someone.” Maybe it was the pressure to join in on something—a joke, a conversation, an action—you knew Jesus wouldn’t endorse. But the fear of standing out, of seeming different, of being left out, was too much. And so, you walked away from Him for the sake of belonging. What inevitably follows? Shame. A gnawing regret that you let fear dictate your loyalty, that you chose comfort over courage, acceptance over truth.

I know this feeling all too well. It was a mission trip to Reno, Nevada during my seminary years. The goal was ambitious: canvass 5,000 homes, spread the word about a new mission church. At first, things were going well! I was so beyond nervous but people were pretty friendly—until I met Dave. I’ll never forget walking up to his door. The Harley posters, the gruff, intimidating presence. And then, the explosion. A barrage of every expletive in the English language and maybe the French language, venom-laced words about how ridiculous, judgmental, and hypocritical Christianity is. He told me, in no uncertain terms, to get off his porch…or else. I’d love to tell you I shook it off, moved to the next house with my head held high. But I didn’t. I sat in the car for twenty minutes, stunned, humiliated. And for the rest of the afternoon, I didn’t knock. I ran up, dropped the flyer, and sprinted away. And to this day, I think about all those doors I skipped, all those souls I neglected, because I was afraid, embarrassed, ashamed. You, me, Mark—we’re all in the same camp. We’ve deserted Jesus in our lives. We’ve let fear win. We’ve been more afraid of people than in awe of our GOD. But remember—there was one person in that garden who didn’t run. And He’s not about to start running from you now.

Jesus stands. Just like then, He is in total control. When the soldiers arrive, He doesn’t panic. He doesn’t fight. In fact, after Judass kisses him, he said, “ “I am he,” Jesus said. (And Judas the traitor was standing there with them.) When Jesus said, “I am he,” they drew back and fell to the ground.” He knocks them down with a few words, showing His total authority over every event that happened not just that day, but all of time. Then willingly lets them put His hands in chains. He walks with them, uncomplaining. He is led to be slaughtered for the very people who ran from Him, hid from Him, refused to be known by Him. He wouldn’t be swayed. He came to be the ransom for cowards like us. He came to run down scared sinners like you and me, and not just forgive us, but to remake you to be like Him. St. Athanasius, whom we praise God for as he stood on the truth of who Jesus is, he’s one of the main reasons we have the Nicene Creed. He once wrote. “You stand forgiven, but God’s grace goes even further. He became what we are that He might make us what He is.” And the only Jesus could accomplish such wonder is if he stood unmoved.

See, it was another garden, not Eden but Gethesame. Another test. Humanity fails again just like our first parents did. But wait—something is different. In the middle of this garden, there is One who passes the test. Jesus stands firm, knowing He will face worse than death—eternal death in our place. But he would not give up his mission. He would be our ransom price. Martin Luther put it this way: “He stands there like a lamb among wolves. He stands there because He is the only one who can stand there.” And don’t be mistaken. Mark writes himself into the story, doesn’t even put his name in here because he shockingly wanted us to see him in this moment as he truly was: Identified by his shame, nakedly running. But Jesus stood by Mark not just in the garden but for the rest of his life.

Mark’s story doesn’t end in the Garden of Gethsame, or in the fields he hid in. He went on to be a companion of the Apostle Paul, to travel on missionary journeys to share Jesus even through persecution. And yet—he struggled. He abandoned Paul at one point, so much so that Paul refused to have him on his team again. You can read about that episode in Mark’s life in Acts 15. But years later at the end of Paul’s life? Mark had changed. In the final chapter of 2 Timothy, the last writing Paul ever did before he was beheaded for his faith in Jesus, he says this about Mark, the one who deserted Jesus, the one who abandoned Paul himself, “Get Mark and bring him with you (Timothy to see Paul before he dies), because he is helpful to me in my ministry.” Jesus stood by Mark, even after he ascended heaven, and the man who once cowardly ran, was now a bold disciple willing to go into the heart of Rome, the heart of persecution, because he loved Jesus so. Jesus never stopped standing by Mark, even when Mark ran. And so it is with you, dear Christian.

If you feel the weight of past failures, hear this: Jesus stands by you. He forgives you. He will always be with you. He will never be ashamed of you. Remember Matthew 28? Jesus says, “Go,” and then He ends with this: “I am with you always.” He chooses not just to be a distant acquaintance, but to be your dearest brother, friend, and most of all Savior. Maybe you’ve heard stories of Christians who gave their lives for the gospel throughout history and thought, “I could never do that.” I’d run. I’d be afraid. And in a sense, you’re right. You and I can’t. But by God’s grace, you will stand—because Jesus is standing with you. Listen to what your Messiah says to you, “They will seize you and persecute you…all on account of my name. And so you will bear testimony to me. But make up your mind not to worry beforehand how you will defend yourselves. For I will give you words and wisdom that none of your adversaries will be able to resist or contradict. You will be betrayed even by parents, brothers and sisters, relatives and friends, and they will put some of you to death. Everyone will hate you because of me. But not a hair of your head will perish.” Jesus will never give you a kiss of death, goodbye, or leave me alone. He invites you through His Word into the darkness of this world to bring His light, a light that cannot be dimmed, turned off or snuffed out.

Obviously, the Holy Spirit inspired Mark to write this and Mark showed no hesitation to put himself in the story. He could fought to have his most humiliating moment left out. But he included it—because shame isn’t the end of his story. Don’t be mistaken, shame isn’t the end of your story either. Look back at those moments you feared. Don’t dwell on them, but learn from them. See that, yes, standing with Jesus can feel isolating, even terrifying. But the more you take in His Word, the more confidence He gives you. And the more you stand with Him, the more joy you will find. Acts 5 tells us that the apostles, after being flogged, rejoiced—because they were counted worthy of suffering for the name of Jesus. They knew something deeply true. Satan wants you to run, because he knows when you suffer for the name of Jesus, the more like him you become, and the more fearless you are, because the more he takes from you, the clearer you see that everything you’ve ever longed for is Jesus. Biblical scholar Michael Wilcock once said, “Christians will prize what the world calls pitiable and suspect what the world calls desirable.” The world tells you to protect your reputation, to avoid loss, to secure comfort. But the kingdom of God calls you to something greater. You are not controlled by fear anymore. You belong to a kingdom that cannot be shaken.

And it’s true. We don’t deserve to be near Jesus. And yet, He calls us to be His witnesses in a deaf world. He hides us in Himself, securing us in His love. So even if you are betrayed, disregarded, or ostracized in the classroom, the office, or your family room—Jesus never will do such a thing to you. Judas kissed Him and walked away. Jesus takes you by the hand and walks with you. The world may betray, but Jesus never will. And because we have His promise…We go. No longer in shame. No longer running from Him. But running with Him and toward Him, knowing that one day, we will join that great cloud of witnesses. Our prize—our Jesus—will be ours, in a place where shame is no more. The beautiful thing about God is that even when we run away, He still writes us back into His story. The world will crumble. But Jesus? He stands. And He stands with you. He’ll never run. He’ll desert. Yours He remains. Amen.