Reputation vs Relationship

Just when we might suspect that Jesus is lowering the standard for being rightly related to God, we discover that He is raising it far higher.

The question about fasting—posed by the disciples of John the Baptist and the Pharisees in Mark 2:18 and following—gives us an opportunity to see this clearly. But before turning there, it is essential to immerse ourselves in Isaiah 58.

In that chapter, speaking on behalf of the living God, Isaiah denounces a kind of fasting practiced by those who believe they are spiritually secure—those concerned more with reputation than repentance:

Yet they seek me daily
and delight to know my ways,
as if they were a nation that did righteousness
and did not forsake the judgment of their God;
they ask of me righteous judgments;
they delight to draw near to God.
“Why have we fasted, and you see it not?
Why have we humbled ourselves, and you take no knowledge of it?”
Behold, in the day of your fast you seek your own pleasure,
and oppress all your workers.
Behold, you fast only to quarrel and to fight
and to strike with a wicked fist.
Fasting like yours this day
will not make your voice to be heard on high.
(Isaiah 58:2–4)

The message is unmistakable. God has no patience for fasting rooted in self-righteousness or pretense. More broadly, He rejects any spirituality that treats its disciplines as ends in themselves or as platforms for self-congratulation. Religious performance does not impress the Almighty. He despises such hollow displays.

Instead, He describes the kind of “fast” He desires—a life marked by mercy, justice, and generosity:

Is not this the fast that I choose:
to loose the bonds of wickedness,
to undo the straps of the yoke,
to let the oppressed go free,
and to break every yoke?
Is it not to share your bread with the hungry
and bring the homeless poor into your house;
when you see the naked, to cover him,
and not to hide yourself from your own flesh?
Then shall your light break forth like the dawn,
and your healing shall spring up speedily;
your righteousness shall go before you;
the glory of the LORD shall be your rear guard.
(Isaiah 58:6–8)

For God, the fast that captures His heart is one that transforms the lives of others. Loosing bonds. Lifting burdens. Feeding the hungry. Welcoming the vulnerable. This is the backdrop against which Mark 2 unfolds.

There we find Jesus eating and drinking with tax collectors and sinners. Observers question not only His association with such people but also His apparent disregard for the fasting practices of the spiritual elite:

Now John’s disciples and the Pharisees were fasting. And people came and said to him, “Why do John’s disciples and the disciples of the Pharisees fast, but your disciples do not fast?” And Jesus said to them, “Can the wedding guests fast while the bridegroom is with them? As long as they have the bridegroom with them, they cannot fast. The days will come when the bridegroom is taken away from them, and then they will fast in that day. No one sews a piece of unshrunk cloth on an old garment. If he does, the patch tears away from it, the new from the old, and a worse tear is made. And no one puts new wine into old wineskins. If he does, the wine will burst the skins—and the wine is destroyed, and so are the skins. But new wine is for fresh wineskins.”
(Mark 2:18–22)

Jesus makes it unmistakably clear: with His arrival, something radically new has begun.

No one expects wedding guests to mourn while the bridegroom stands among them. A wedding calls for joy—laughter, music, feasting. As long as the groom is present, celebration is fitting. And in Jesus, the Bridegroom has come. His presence demands rejoicing.

But this joy is not superficial. It signals a decisive break with the old order. New cloth cannot be stitched onto worn fabric without tearing it. New wine cannot be poured into brittle wineskins without bursting them. In the same way, life with Jesus cannot be squeezed into old patterns of self-protective religion.

To be joined to Him is to embrace something so transformative that it reshapes everything. Life is no longer centered on maintaining our spiritual image or preserving our routines. It becomes about His joy, His mission, His redemptive purpose.

The disciples of John and the Pharisees likely assumed that Jesus was settling for something less. In reality, it was they who had reduced the life of God to a manageable routine—twice-weekly fasting and careful boundary-keeping. Their version of holiness had become small, rigid, and self-referential.

Jesus raises the bar.

He shows that true righteousness is not about preserving an old system but about embodying the heart of God—loving boldly, stepping toward the marginalized, risking reputation for redemption, and inviting others into the joy of the Bridegroom.

So consider your own posture.

Are you primarily concerned with appearing spiritually serious?
Have you reduced your life with God to disciplined routine while neglecting demonstrable love? Are you clinging to old wineskins—patterns that feel safe but resist transformation?

Or has your vision been enlarged? Are you willing to loose bonds, lift burdens, and enter the celebratory, costly joy of Christ’s mission?

Wrestle with this.

The presence of the Bridegroom changes everything.