Uncomfortable Jesus Quotes That We Need to Hear

I love going for walks. I spend so much time indoors (like so many of us do) that I crave getting out for some much needed fresh air.

The other day, I grabbed my shoes and went on an early morning walk. It felt so good to be out and moving around!

But as I got into my stride, I noticed that there was something stuck in my shoe. No biggie, I can walk it off. I was trying to beat my time after all.

But after a few more steps, I started limping out of discomfort. I was physically altering my regular mode of walking…all because I didn’t want to take the rock out of my shoe.

Needless to say, I didn’t get much farther before I had to pause, take off my shoe, and jiggle it around upside down. I heard the rock fall to the ground.

Then I put my shoe back on and it felt so much better to walk.

The thing about being uncomfortable is that we don’t like it. It’s annoying, it’s awkward, there’s an unease that we want to go away.

Our love for Jesus includes us being uncomfortable. Not all of His teachings are the uplifting and inspirational Bible verses on a poster kind of teachings. I don’t see these embroidered on throw pillows or shared in pretty fonts on Pinterest.

These Bible verses expose our hypocrisy and our selfishness. If you’re up for it, I invite you to get uncomfortable with me.

This particular verse comes at the end of a parable. Jesus tells the story of two men who go to the temple to pray. One’s a Pharisee…respected, religious, outwardly righteous. The other is a tax collector…despised, morally compromised, an outcast.

The Pharisee prays loudly, listing off his spiritual accomplishments. Meanwhile, the tax collector stands at a distance, won’t even look up to heaven, acknowledging that he is a sinner and asking God to have mercy on him.

Jesus says it’s the tax collector who goes home justified before God.

I wish I could say I always identify with the tax collector in this story. But I all too often catch myself comparing my faith to others.

It’s like I have this spiritual resume that I’m trying to fill up with “important” works. I notice who doesn’t serve as much as I do, or who doesn’t give as generously as I do.

I think about how I pray in public, how I answer questions in Bible study, how I want to be seen as "the good Christian" in my friend group.

This parable strips away my pretense and asks a question I don’t want to answer. Am I really humble before God, or am I performing? Am I genuinely grateful for grace, or am I secretly proud of how little I think I need it?

The Pharisee’s prayer wasn’t technically wrong, he really did fast and tithe. But the problem was that he thought these things made him superior. He came to God with a report card, not begging for mercy.

And I do the same thing.

I tally up my good deeds, my Bible reading streaks, my volunteer hours, and somewhere deep inside, I want to believe that they’ll earn me something. That they make me better than someone else.

Jesus calls this out. He exposes our pride. And it’s uncomfortable because it’s like I want to be the hero of my own spiritual story. I want credit for trying hard, just like in school or at work. But Jesus isn’t looking for impressive resumes! He’s looking for broken hearts that know they need Him.

Squirming yet?

Of all the teachings of Jesus, I think I find this to be one of the most difficult. Not just uncomfortable, actually difficult.

Because I want to spend all of my time loving the people who are easy to love. The ones who agree with me, support me, like my posts, and validate my thoughts.

But, but, but. Jesus asks me to love the person who hurt me. The one who lied to me. The peer who puts me down through backhanded comments. The driver who cut me off while driving on the highway. Arg!

Love them? Jesus, surely you’re exaggerating to make a point. Maybe you mean tolerate them. Coexist with them. Be civil. But love and pray for them?

I’ve tried telling myself that it means having general goodwill toward humanity. Be polite, smile more. Don’t wish harm on people. That’s so much easier!

But Jesus is more specific than that. He says to pray for those who persecute you. To persecute someone is to subject them to hostility and ill-treatment. Harassment, punishment, or even injury. It’s to intentionally make someone suffer.

Yet Jesus calls us to bless them.

It’s an unwinnable battle because this kind of love costs me something. It costs me the satisfaction of being right and being allowed to hold a grudge.

I think about how much mental and emotional energy I’ve spent rehearsing arguments with people who aren’t even in the room. Ooooh, I know EXACTLY what I’m going to say to prove how right I am.

Or how good that I’ve become at avoiding certain people rather than genuinely seeking their good. How I’ve justified my hardness of heart by pointing out their offenses. But it only nurtures resentment and negativity.

Jesus doesn’t let us off the hook. He doesn’t say, “Love your enemies unless they really hurt you” or “Love your enemies…except for those people who hold those particular views.”

He offers no exceptions. It’s a costly command to love as He loved, even from the cross saying “Father, forgive them.”

I don’t know about you, but I’m tempted to try and add footnotes, cultural context, caveats, etc.

Wellllll…Jesus was speaking to that specific rich young ruler, not to me. He was addressing a particular issue in that man’s heart. It’s not a universal command.

And maybe there’s some truth to that. But the reason I want to interpret it my way is because it hits too close to home.

The rich young ruler came to Jesus asking what he needed to do to inherit eternal life. He’d kept all the commandments since his youth. He was earnest, seeking, morally upright. And Jesus identified the one thing standing between him and wholehearted discipleship. His wealth.

The man went away sad because he had great wealth. And I understand why.

No, I’m not wealthy!

I’ve built a comfortable life, and Jesus’ words challenge my grip on security, savings, and…stuff.

I like things. I strive to be financially responsible. I like creature comforts. I love my soft snuggle blanket. I love coffee in the morning! I need my phone with me at all times.

And there’s nothing inherently wrong with financial responsibility or enjoying good gifts. But the question Jesus asks cuts deeper…What do I love most? What would I refuse to give up if He asked me to?

The uncomfortable thing is that I’m not so sure that I’d pass the same test the rich young ruler failed. If Jesus looked at me with love and said, “Sell everything and give it to the poor,” would I do it? Or would I walk away sad, holding on to my comfortable life?

I think about how I respond when I hear about a pressing need in my community. Am I moved to compassion and act sacrificially? Or do I momentarily feel a twinge of guilt…and then move on?

I think about how tightly I hold onto my financial goals, my plans for the future, my dreams that all require money. Am I willing to hold my resources with open hands?

I want Jesus. He’s the one who loves me enough to tell me the truth. The one who sees through my performance and calls me to transform.

He will not let me settle for a mediocre, lukewarm, compartmentalized faith. He disrupts my comfort because He’s after something greater, my freedom and my true life.

We can each pray,

What am I holding onto that You’re asking me to release?

Where am I divided in my loyalty?

Where am I judging others while ignoring my own need for grace?

Where am I pursuing comfort instead of Your call?

Where do I need to die to myself so I can fully follow You?

The uncomfortable teachings of Jesus aren’t meant to shame us or condemn us. They’re meant to free us for all eternity.