When we read the Gospels casually, it’s easy to miss just how shocking Jesus was to the religious world of His day. One way to think about it is that Jesus didn’t play by their rules. He didn’t treat religion like a checklist, a club with membership standards, or a game where you earn points. Instead, He upset the insiders by welcoming the outsiders.

If I were trying to capture their frustration in verse, it might go something like this:

The problem with Jesus is—frankly—He feasts.
While righteous men fast, He’s carving the beasts.
We’re thinning our bodies, afflicting our souls;
He’s topping up cups and filling their bowls.

The problem with Jesus is His disciples are small—
Not scholars or scribes, not impressive at all.
Fishermen, sailors, rough hands, common speech—
Who lets men like that stand up and teach?

The problem with Jesus is this, at the core:
He welcomes the ones we’ve barred from the door.
He eats what they eat, He names them as friends—
And worst of all—He says He’s God who descends.

This satirical poetry reflects the growing resentment the Pharisees directed toward Jesus: He did what no one expected and welcomed people no one else wanted.

In the Gospels, the religious leaders identify what they see as problems with Jesus. But what they regard as a problem, Christians celebrate as good news. Most fundamentally: Jesus is a friend of sinners.

The Company Jesus Keeps

The first major complaint from the Pharisees was Jesus’ choice of friends. They saw Him hanging out with people they would never invite to the synagogue. The best example of that is the story of Jesus calling Matthew, also known as Levi.

Luke records this moment plainly:

After this he went out and saw a tax collector named Levi, sitting at the tax booth. And he said to him, “Follow me.” And leaving everything, he rose and followed him (Luke 5:27–28 ESV).

It can sound almost casual to us. When Jesus calls, we follow. Simple. But in first-century Palestine, tax collectors were detested. They worked for Rome, they collected money from their own people, and they often padded their own pockets. In the eyes of their communities, they were traitors and extortioners. They were barred from worship, cut off from fellowship, and even disqualified as legal witnesses.

So when Jesus calls a tax collector to follow Him, that’s a headline. But it only gets bigger because Matthew throws a big feast for Jesus. Not a backyard cookout. A banquet. And all his tax-collector friends are there.

And Levi made him a great feast in his house, and there was a large company of tax collectors and others reclining at table with them (Luke 5:29 ESV).

And that’s when the Pharisees objected, “Why do you eat and drink with tax collectors and sinners?” (Luke 5:30 ESV).

If you’ve ever hesitated to invite someone to church because you didn’t think they were “appropriate,” you’re witnessing a version of this same Pharisaical tension. The Pharisees were afraid that their holiness might be contaminated. Some churchgoers feel the same way.

Jesus’ response is brilliantly simple and deeply good news. “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick” (Luke 5:31 ESV).

Jesus used a picture they couldn’t deny. If someone is sick, you don’t accuse the doctor of fraternizing with germs. You’re glad the doctor is near the sick. Here, Jesus is signaling that His mission is to seek and save the lost, not congratulate the self-satisfied.

Then He says something even sharper, “I have not come to call the righteous but sinners to repentance” (Luke 5:32 ESV).

It’s as if Jesus is saying to the religious elite, “If you think you are righteous, then you don’t need Me.” That’s the exact point. The Pharisees thought they were fine. But Jesus came for people who know they aren’t.

If you’re familiar with our discipleship resources, you know this truth ties directly into what Christian growth looks like—an honest acknowledgment of our need for Jesus, not confidence in our own spiritual résumé.

The Atmosphere Jesus Encourages

The next complaint wasn’t just that Jesus ate with sinners. It was that His followers didn’t fast like everybody else.

The disciples of John fast often, and so do the disciples of the Pharisees, but yours eat and drink (Luke 5:33 ESV).

Here’s where it’s helpful to understand a bit of Jewish practice. The Law required one fast a year—the Day of Atonement. But the Pharisees of Jesus’ day had added extra fast days (twice a week, in fact)!

So Jesus answers in two parts. First, He invokes the image of a wedding feast:

Can you make wedding guests fast while the bridegroom is with them? The days will come when the bridegroom is taken away, and then they will fast in those days (Luke 5:34–35 ESV).

Jesus is saying that His presence is cause for celebration, not fasting. It would be like telling a bride’s family to fast at her wedding reception. You just wouldn’t do it. The moment calls for joy and feasting, not somber austerity.

We instinctively understand this principle in everyday life. You don’t go to a silent disco, put on the headphones, and expect to hear a serious lecture on dental hygiene. The setting demands music and movement. You don’t book a massage and expect the therapist to pause every few minutes to explain your trapezius muscle and critique your desk ergonomics. That might be informative, but it completely misses the point of why you’re there.

The issue isn’t that lectures or anatomy lessons are bad. They’re simply out of place. In the same way, fasting wasn’t wrong, but it was inappropriate when Jesus, the bridegroom, was present. Jesus then illustrates the deeper point with two images that would have been familiar to His listeners: garments and wineskins.

No one tears a piece from a new garment and puts it on an old garment…. And no one puts new wine into old wineskins… But new wine must be put into fresh wineskins (Luke 5:36–38 ESV).

In the same way, if you try to squeeze Jesus into your molds, it’s not going to mix well. Old structures and new life don’t mix seamlessly. If we try to patch old religion with a bit of Jesus, we lose both. The joy, freedom, and life He brings require fresh receptivity. You need Jesus and Jesus alone, and you’ll end up saying, “Jesus is good, and His news is good news.”

Why This Still Matters

Jesus Christ is the groom. His coming is cause for celebration. His presence with us is joy. Followers of Jesus are different—not because we’re better—but because we know this joy at the core of our identity.

So here’s a question worth pondering: Would your friends and neighbors say you have too much joy in Jesus? If someone complained about how often you mention Him, would that be a problem or a testimony?

Jesus came not to make religion more complicated, but to rescue sinners and invite them into a life marked by joy. Is your life marked by that joy?

2026.02.04 / The Problem With Jesus / Pastor Daniel Steeves