Enduring and Overcoming Bad News – 8/3/25

I’m curious how you would describe how you respond to bad news. I was with a group of guys. We had just visited someone in our church who was in a physical therapy rehabilitation center. We were driving back, discussing this idea of how we respond to bad news.

I describe myself this way: it seems to me that in large-scale bad news, I’m okay, but I have an inordinate reaction to small bad news. Bad news like this: Rebecca calling me and saying, “Hey, Ryan. I got another nail in my tire.” It’s been a rough 2025 tire year for Rebecca. This is number three. I think we’re the only people for whom it’s paid off to have bought the tire warranty. We’ve won on the deal. Something about those things. I will literally respond, “God, could we have just one month? It’s all I’m asking for.”

Real bad news or serious bad news, I would describe myself as solid, but that solid response is rigid. I’m the “put your head down, get everybody through, we’re going to make it, it’s going to be okay” responder to bad news. I’m much like a freight train, “we’re going to make it.”

Not to defend myself, but to defend myself: sometimes you need that guy. Sometimes people need that guy who, if they’re overwhelmed by the bad news, can keep everybody moving forward. But “head down, push through bad news” Ryan, over the long haul, doesn’t create space for people who are feeling their way through crises or overwhelmed by it. Therefore, my response to bad news isn’t always healthy, and sometimes it’s even more damaging.

How do you respond to bad news? Silly bad news and serious bad news. Even more importantly, how do you get through it? The response is one thing, but enduring it is an entirely different thing. I would say we get through bad news by reminding ourselves of what we value.

For instance, when I lament to God about a tire, I can quickly turn that corner and go, “I own a car. Rebecca is safe. Nothing bad happened. We have the warranty. We’re going to be okay.” There are values that I can talk about.

In more serious bad news, it gets a little more tricky. For instance, our family (from February 2020 to December of 2020) went through the loss of my dad, three car accidents, our septic tank backed up and flooded our house, so we had to move out for three months and live in Airbnbs. That was also during COVID. Ah, COVID. The good old COVID days.

I went into head-down mode like there was no tomorrow. It was on. And I added the suppression of emotional trauma because my way of dealing with some of my emotions is to shove them down like you shove stuffing into a turkey. Just push it down and we’ll all be fine.

What do you reach for in that bad news? Similar things, similar values: no one was seriously injured in any of those three car accidents. We had insurance for our house. And COVID, well, for an introvert, in some ways, COVID was kind of cool. With the loss of my dad, I held onto higher values than that. My dad loved Jesus with all his heart, soul, mind, and strength. Because I believe in Jesus, I have full faith that in some way, at some point, I will see my dad again. And my dad’s not struggling with Parkinson’s anymore.

Higher values than bad news provide enduring power.

Last week in our study of Matthew, we worked through a difficult and sad story full of bad news. John, Jesus’s cousin, was wrongfully and unjustly beheaded simply because he said the marriage of some Roman rulers was immoral. For that, he was sentenced, imprisoned, and killed. After that, some of John’s friends took time to bury his body, and then they went and told Jesus and his followers what happened.

Since we all know what it’s like to get bad news, I want you to imagine that scene in your brain: John’s friends coming to Jesus and his friends and telling them the news. See Jesus and his buddies. Maybe they just finished fishing, or perhaps they’re sitting under a shade tree because it’s so hot in the middle of Israel.

John’s friends are travel-worn and dusty. Their faces are red and puffy from crying. Sweat and tears mix together because they’re both weary and they’re sad. They come and tell Jesus what happened to his cousin. Not only do they share that bad news, but they share an additional piece of bad news.

See, Herod thinks that Jesus is John the Baptist come back from the dead with miraculous power. Herod is one unstable dude. If he went after John, and he thinks that Jesus is John the Baptist come back from the dead, Jesus now has a target on his back. So what did Jesus’s followers do then?

They knew John. Certainly, they had met John in their travels, so they’re mourning the loss of someone they know. They’re having all the feelings they should have for Jesus, who just lost family. But then there’s this little nugget that comes after that of bad news that now Jesus is a target.

Jesus lived his life very similarly to the way that John did. He called out religious rulers. He called out rulers, he called out moral stances, and everybody knows they’ve been hanging out with Jesus. Does the target move from Jesus to them?

If that happened to you, if you’re one of Jesus’s followers, would you take a moment of pause and step back and wonder, “Is He worth following? Do I want a target on my back?”

In light of that really bad news, what do these followers of Jesus—in real time—what do they need? They need a reminder of a higher value. They need a reminder of the value of Jesus and his kingdom in order to keep following Jesus and move towards his kingdom. Is Jesus big enough, is his kingdom large enough to energize them to endure bad news and receive the secondary target coming from Herod?

One thing we’ve learned together about the book of Matthew is that he organizes his stories on purpose. He makes a big claim about Jesus: Jesus is the forever and ever King. Then the way he organized his stories is an attempt to prove that point.

So right after the bad news about John, we get a miraculous story about Jesus. Bad news, higher value. The feeding of the 5,000 reveals a valuable King and a beautiful kingdom. It reveals a valuable king and a beautiful kingdom. In the face of the ultimate bad news (death), in the face of additional bad news (being targeted), we get this story of Jesus’s miraculous works.

We value Jesus as King and his kingdom.

We value Jesus because Jesus is a purposeful, compassionate, and powerful King. Jesus is a purposeful, compassionate, and powerful king. In the face of bad news, we have to remember what Jesus is like, a great picture of him.

Jesus is a purposeful King.

“Now when Jesus heard this [when he heard the bad news], he withdrew from there in a boat to a desolate place by himself” (Matthew 14:13).

In response to bad news, Jesus needed to think things through. He needed some solitude, and that solitude probably means “solitude with God.” There’s another biographer of Jesus in the Bible, his name is Luke. He says this about Jesus’s practice of moving toward solitude:

“But now even more the report about [Jesus] went abroad, and great crowds gathered to hear him and to be healed of their infirmities. But he would withdraw to desolate places and pray” (Luke 5:15-16).

Great crowds, Jesus takes time away. See, Jesus was in the habit of taking that time by himself with God. I think this is another one of those times. He withdraws to pray about John’s death and pray about this new moment that’s happening with Herod. The first person Jesus talks to about bad news is God. If Jesus talked to God about bad news, we would probably do well to mimic his behavior. He withdraws to pray.

Jesus also withdraws strategically to delay. This move of Jesus’s to withdraw is to pray and to delay. Remember, Herod is unstable at best. Jesus withdraws purposely so that there isn’t further trouble. He puts some space between himself and Herod. He’s done this before. Jesus has withdrawn to prevent untimely violence.

“But the Pharisees went out and conspired against [Jesus], how to destroy him. Jesus, aware of this, withdrew from there” (Matthew 12:14-15).

The Pharisees (a religious sect that opposed Jesus, to protect their position and power) got together and said, “Let’s destroy this Jesus. Not just do something to him, let us destroy him.” Jesus hears that news and leaves the region.

Jesus isn’t averse to conflict. Jesus is in charge of what he’s doing, where he’s going, and when he’s doing it. There’s a time coming in Matthew’s story where Herod will kill Jesus, but Jesus knows it’s not today. Now is not the time, so he withdraws. Jesus is both a model and the inspiration for how to respond to bad news. He withdraws to pray with His Father about the bad news.

We value a King who is strategic and purposeful. Jesus inspires us by how he responds. He doesn’t freak out. He doesn’t go into head-down mode and just plow forward. Jesus moves towards his fate in faith, knowing that his own death is coming, but he does so with courage. Jesus is a purposeful King.

Jesus is a compassionate King.

“Now when Jesus heard [the bad news], he withdrew from there in a boat to a desolate place by himself. But when the crowds heard it, they followed him on foot from the towns. When he went ashore he saw a great crowd, and he had compassion on them” (Matthew 14:13-14).

The crowds here saw that Jesus took off flying solo. They decided to do a group hike around the lake and beat Jesus to the dock. So Jesus, seeking the desolate place, lands, and what does he find? People . . . am I right? All goes great until people are involved. What’s Jesus’s first response?

If you know me, you know I’m not really great at interruption. There’s something about when I have a plan that’s running in place. It’s supposed to go there. So if I were seeking a desolate place by myself and got interrupted, more than likely my first response wouldn’t be compassion.

Jesus’s operating system defaults to compassion when he sees needy people. That’s a king worth following. Any time he sees needy people, what does Jesus do? Compassion. It’s just where he lives. It’s where he resides. Jesus had a desire, it was interrupted, his response was compassion.

You’ve heard the phrase “my heart goes out,” “my heart goes out to them.” Something bad happens to somebody, you say, “My heart goes out to them.” That’s actually a really accurate definition of compassion. Everything that’s in my guts, butterflies, that feeling in my heart when something happens to someone else— it comes out. That is compassion, and Jesus is a picture of that.

I’d like us to experience the feeling of compassion. I follow this gentleman, this dad, on YouTube, who is a picture of compassion. This is a scenario that draws out compassion as we watch him help his son learn how to manage a particular step in the way he walks. So watch this for about a minute.

You might not have been able to hear this: as soon as that ended, there was this little sound that happened in the crowd. It went, “Mm.” Compassion. That feeling you just had, that’s how Jesus lives every moment of his life. That’s how he sees every needy person: compassion. Jesus’s heart came out of his chest for people who were interrupting him and wanted something from him. Compassion.

In the face of bad news, I know I have a King who begins with compassion towards needy people. When you’re experiencing bad news, you can literally count on, bet on that the way Jesus sees you in your neediness is compassion.

Now, compassion is beautiful, but even more compelling is compassion with action. Jesus’s compassion drives him to respond in this situation with power. Jesus is a powerful King. We value a powerful King.

“[Jesus] had compassion on them and healed their sick” (Matthew 14:14).

“Then [Jesus] ordered the crowds to sit down on the grass, and taking the five loaves and the two fish, he looked up to heaven and said a blessing. Then he broke the loaves and gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the crowds. And they all ate and were satisfied. And they took up twelve baskets full of the broken pieces left over” (Matthew 14:19-20).

The text claims that Jesus healed all kinds of sick people with his words AND that Jesus used the first-century equivalent of a bologna sandwich to feed 5,000+ people. That is quite a claim. What do we do with this and other miraculous claims about Jesus?

I think it’s important to know how we view miracles so that we know how we value Jesus, because how we value Jesus gives us the fuel to respond and endure bad news. What do you do with miracles? So we’re going to take a little inset here and look at miracles.

The first thing I want to do is name two groups of people who are here responding to miracles. They’re the same two groups of people that are in this room every week responding to whatever is taught from God’s Word.

Group #1. You’re familiar with Jesus.

You believe in Jesus, you follow Jesus, you love Jesus, and you believe in his power to do miracles.

Some of you in this group may truly have been in awe hearing Claire read this story again. You’re right on the edge. “Jesus is awesome. I can’t believe he did that.” If that’s you, that’s where you are, great!

But for some in this group who believe in Jesus, your response is probably not one of animated awe because you’ve heard this story before. Jesus feeding 5,000 people with a Lunchable is kind of normal. You’ve heard it, you’ve been through it. It’s just normal. Yep, I’ve heard this story.

For some in this group, you might also question miracles because your life doesn’t look like the lives of people in the Bible in this moment who receive this type of miracle. So Group #1, a couple of things:

One, you must resist what I’m going to call “miracle fatigue.” Miracle fatigue is a condition where miracles become normal because of familiarity. Miracles become mundane.

It’s hard to get excited about this story when you’ve heard it in Sunday school, you’ve heard it in church, you’ve read it in your own reading, you’ve heard four sermons on it in your life, you’ve listened to other sermons on it . . . You can get worn out listening to miracles. Group #1, we — I include myself here — we have to cultivate the wonder of hearing these stories as if it’s for the first time.

I have a book series that I’ve read since right after I got out of college. There are 13 books in the series. I’ve read the whole series 11 times because any time a new book came out, I started at the beginning and reread the whole thing. A lot of you are looking at me like I’m weird. That’s not a normal practice? Apparently not from the number of people looking at me going, “No.” Well, I do. I have to cultivate the wonder of reading that book for the 11th time all over. I think that’s what we have to do with miracles and the stories of the Bible in general, if we’re familiar with them. Create the wonder of reading it for the first time.

Friends in this group who follow Jesus, we must also be aware of “miracle comparison.” My life doesn’t look like the Bible characters. I’ve never seen anybody feed 5,000 people with minimal food. That’s probably true. But not everyone in the Bible received a miracle like this, either. The vast majority of people just lived their normal lives, like we live.

I think what we have to do is put on a pair of glasses and see the world through the miraculous that we experience every day. We just don’t call it miraculous anymore because, again, it’s so normal. I’ll give you a couple of examples:

One, you woke up. You didn’t choose to. You might have set an alarm, but your body just does this thing where it goes into nowhere, sleeps, and then wakes up on its own. You’re breathing. You have food, we sit in this building, we have air conditioning, we have cars.

The list of things that we have — and we believe that they’ve come to us because “I’ve worked hard and I deserve them.” No, it is miraculous that we’re alive. It’s miraculous that you are breathing right now.

I’ve heard some pretty amazing stories around here about what God has done, but at the same time, there are things that we can see that are just normal, but also miraculous. That’s Group #1.

Group #2. You’re unfamiliar with Jesus.

You don’t follow Jesus. You might be exploring the claims of who Jesus is, or you might just be visiting here on a one-off with family and friends.

Your response to Jesus feeding 5,000 people and healing everybody could be, “Okay, that’s just a crazy fairy tale for Christians.” Maybe even for weak-minded people, or you might say “that’s unscientific.” Or you have a very neutral response like, “Believe whatever you want to believe. I don’t care.” You might receive this story even as a good metaphor, something that you can apply and learn from, but you’re not necessarily going to make it a real-time miracle.

If that’s you, group two, I would suggest that you are in danger of “miracle cynicism.” If you just assume that miracles are made-up fairy tales, I would ask you to suspend your cynicism by recognizing that Jesus’s miracles only make sense if he is who he claims to be.

We believe that Jesus is a literal historical figure. Most secular scholars even believe that fact. We also believe that Jesus is the divine Son of God, come in the flesh, who lived a perfect life, possesses divine power, chose to die for us so that he could reconcile us to God and he could reconcile the world and — in the ultimate future, in his kingdom — remove all the evil from it and we live with him forever and ever.

If Jesus is who he claims to be, then healing disease and feeding a couple thousand people is nothing. If he made the world, he can feed people. Try looking at this through the Christian lens, even if you don’t believe it yet.

I’d also invite you to consider your own “miracle lenses” as someone who doesn’t believe in Jesus. What do you believe that someone would call “miraculous?” I’d like to suggest a couple of things that I think are commonly held miracles:

If you believe in God, then you believe God created the world out of nothing. There’s a book in the Bible that says,

“By faith we understand that the universe was created by the word of God so that what is seen was not made out of things that are visible” (Hebrews 11:3)

As followers of Jesus, we believe God spoke the world into existence just as Jesus spoke healing into the lives of the people who followed him.

If you don’t believe in God, you still believe the world came from somewhere, and more than likely, you too believe it came from nothing. Many believe that at some point in the past, there was a singularity of heat and pressure, and the world big-banged itself into existence. I know that’s a really reductionist view. I am no scientist, but I think it’s at least fair. If that’s you, then you believe in the miracle of something from nothing, just like I do. We just attribute the cause to different things.

Likewise, I think we both would believe in the miracle of life from non-life. Where did life, as we know it, come from? As a follower of Jesus and a believer in God, I believe that God spoke plants, animals, the world, stars, sun, and moon into existence, and he made mankind in God’s image.

If you don’t believe in God as the originator of life in the universe, then you believe that somehow, at some point, there was a particle that turned into a single-cell organism that became complex life. You believe in a miracle of life from non-life. No life existed, and then it did.

There are other miraculous things we could talk about (reason coming from non-reason, personal existence from a non-personal existence). Now, I’m truly not trying to debate you. I’m only attempting to say that there are some beliefs you have that another person could look at and say, “Oh no, that’s miraculous.” Something from nothing, that’s kind of a big deal. I would call that miraculous.

So Group #1, don’t be bored by a story you already know. Cultivate the wonder of hearing it for the first time because we value a King in this story. Group #2, take the risk of listening to this story about Jesus and see if it communicates to you a King worth following, a kingdom worth pursuing.

If I could push one step further for those of you who may not believe in Jesus: what do you hold onto to respond to and endure bad news? What’s your hope? What gets you through it? We believe that Jesus, as King, and his kingdom give us a higher value to respond to and endure bad news. We would love for you to believe that.

Now that we have a mindset together about miracles, what is the meaning of miracles? What do they do?

1. Miracles authenticate Jesus as God.

These miracle stories do lots of things at the same time, one of which is that they authenticate Jesus as God. Only the God who created everything that is and exists has the power to reorder reality. The reality was that it was a small amount of food. Jesus reordered reality so that it was enough for 5,000+. That change is something that only the divine could do.

2. Miracles reveal that Jesus, as God, can influence our world.

Jesus, this King we follow, can influence our world, the world that we live in right now. He changed reality.

In the story, it’s interesting that Jesus extends the opportunity to influence the world to the disciples. The disciples see what’s been going on. They see all these people who have walked to follow and hear Jesus. They see the day getting later as Jesus keeps teaching.

They come up with the idea, “Hey, nobody out here has food.” Their answer to that problem is to go up to Jesus and say, “Send everybody away to get food.” 5,000+ people in the middle of nowhere. Send them away, get them into a town, tell them to go to Chili’s, grab a triple dipper — go get them food.

There’s nowhere for these people to go. So Jesus has a fascinating response. He looks at them and says, “You feed them.”

What would you do to that? Like, “Jesus, oh no, you handle this.” These guys have followed Jesus for a while. They know what he is, what he’s like, what he can do, how he can exercise power — but in this moment, the disciples miss the invitation. They just miss it. They were only living, if you think about it, in the realm of their power. “You feed them.”

I’ve heard sermons that kind of make fun of the disciples here and pick on them as if the person preaching would be better in this situation than the disciples. I think I’d be worse. That sarcastic side of me would come out and go, “Oh, okay, Jesus. I’ll handle this. I’ve got 5,000+ bologna sandwiches in a suitcase back here. Let me handle this for you. Let me grab a food truck.”

“You feed them.” They miss the invitation to extend Jesus’s power to them and influence the world. I think I’m a lot like the disciples, and maybe even worse. I, too, when experiencing bad news, think only in the realm of my power when I have access to the power of the forever and ever king.

3. Finally, miracles give us a glimpse of the kingdom.

Miracles let us see what the kingdom of heaven really looks like. It’s a glimpse of the beauty of Jesus’s kingdom. If you think about it, a miracle steps into brokenness and rights it. That moment when brokenness is right at that miracle, the positive, when it’s set right— that’s what Jesus’s kingdom will look like forever.

We’re existing in a broken kingdom right now. Christians of all types talk about the concept of sin. Sin is the missing of God’s righteous standard. We miss the way we should live. Sin is also the omission of things that we should do. It’s missing the mark. Sin affects humanity, and sin also affects creation. So when Jesus does a miracle that re-orders brokenness, that is an amazing thing. It reorients the kingdom.

When Jesus says, “the kingdom of heaven is at hand,” Jesus is saying, “I have stepped into this broken kingdom and I am bringing the kingdom of heaven here and I will ultimately establish my kingdom forever.” It’s a sneak peek. Every miracle is a sneak peek, a look behind the curtain at what the kingdom experience with King Jesus will really be like.

Jesus reigns over this amazing, beautiful kingdom where there’s
no illness, only health,
no hunger, only satisfaction,
no want, only abundance.

That sounds like a great place. Where’s that in the text?

Jesus heals all the sick. Jesus seems to have healed every one of those people who needed healing that came to him. Jesus is righting the wrongness of this world, this world broken by sin. Jesus rights it. Disease, sickness, and death are the greatest evidence that our world is broken, that it is not as it should be.

I find it fascinating, the older I get, whether you believe in Jesus or not, almost all, but the vast majority of responses to disease and death are the same. We shudder and we hate it, whether you believe in Jesus or not. Why?

If we’re simply soulless skin suits walking through life with no meaning whatsoever, then why do we collectively, as a species, have a reaction to death and disease? Where does that come from? What if it’s because we’re made to be part of the kingdom?

In Jesus’ kingdom, there’s no hunger, only satisfaction. As a king, Jesus is so compassionate. He didn’t want people to even miss a meal.

In another biography of Jesus, the author mentions that Jesus was worried that, without a meal, these people who had come to him for healing would faint on their way home because they had traveled to see him. They didn’t have food, and now they had to travel back. So Jesus steps in and miraculously heals their hunger. He steps in, takes over, and feeds everyone.

In Jesus’s kingdom, the operating status quo is healthy satisfaction rather than hurtful hunger. Did you notice how well Jesus fed everyone? They all ate and were satisfied. You didn’t just get a little piece of bread and half a filet of fish. Enough food was distributed so that everyone there ate, and everyone there was satisfied.

Jesus provided enough food for everybody to be full. But it gets better than that. In Jesus’s kingdom, there’s no want, only abundance. “And they took up twelve basketfuls of broken pieces left over” (Matthew 14:20). In modern language, they grabbed some Tupperware, walked around, gathered up the remains, and started doing meal prep for everybody so they all had a doggie bag to go. There were leftovers.

Jesus the King fed people and provided leftovers. That detail, to me, is fascinating. It shows me what he’s like. Jesus gave them a snack bag. The King, worried about them having an extra snack. Jesus’s kingdom is one of abundance.

If miracles are a glimpse into the kingdom of heaven, the kingdom of Jesus, then hunger is swallowed up by fullness and want is destroyed by abundance. Jesus reigns over a beautiful kingdom where there’s
no illness, only health,
no hunger, only satisfaction,
no want, only abundance.

So we come back to our original question: How do we endure bad news?

How did Matthew organize his stories to show how we endure bad news?

We must find something of supreme value.

You have to value something higher than the bad news. I would argue that this text shows that Jesus is of supreme value. He is an amazing King, and he reigns over a beautiful kingdom that is so beautiful that those two things put together (Jesus as King and the beauty of his kingdom) is both the fuel and the energy to respond and endure and even break out in joy through bad news.

If you believe in Jesus, this story is a reminder and it’s fuel for you. If there’s one thing we all know together, somebody in here (and probably a lot of people in here) is dealing with bad news. If you follow Jesus, Jesus as King and his kingdom, this is a reminder to you: you have fuel. You have a higher value in your life than your bad news.

If you don’t believe in Jesus, this story is an invitation for you to consider Jesus as a king. I’d love to invite you to do this: find a Bible (you don’t even have to buy one, they’re free online) and use the index (if it’s digital) to find Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John (they are four biographers of Jesus) and explore who he is. Look at him. See the claims about him and see if he’s actually worth following. See if he is the King I described him to be. See if his kingdom is as beautiful as we talked about here. And if he is, follow him. Stake your life on him and follow him.

At the end of Matthew, there’s this story told about Jesus and his friends, who now have endured a lot of bad news together. This was the night before Jesus was going to be arrested. Jesus gave his friends a way to remember him as King and to remember his kingdom.

There was this meal that Jews would practice together called Passover. They were having that meal together. It was an annual holiday that they celebrated together. In that meal, Jesus took two elements of that meal, common elements, that everybody would have on their table in that day: bread and wine. He pulled them out of the meal, and in this radical moment, looked at his friends and took those elements and said, “These represent me.”

“This bread—” and Jesus broke it. He said, “This is my body, which is broken for you. Take it, eat it, consume it, experience it.” He took this cup of wine, and in the same way, he said, “This is my blood. This is the new covenant, the new agreement between God and man in my blood. Drink that, and remember me.”

Jesus put himself on display in the middle of the meal. “Remember who I am.” The forever King is sitting in front of his friends and says, “I’ll die for you.” A King who dies for his people? That’s a King worth following.

Together, this meal that’s been called the Lord’s Supper or communion or the Last Supper has been celebrated among God’s people for a couple of thousand years. We’re going to have this meal together to remember, remind, and experience the reality of who Jesus is as King and who Jesus is as the sacrifice that reconciles us to God.

Over the course of a couple of songs, some people are going to come up here and pass out a small piece of bread and a small cup of juice. I invite you to consider the reality of who Jesus is in your life as King. Then I’m going to come up here after a couple of songs, and we will take that meal together.