There’s a verse I used to breeze past reading that I now can’t ignore.
“From that time many of His disciples went back and walked with Him no more.” — John 6:66
These were not strangers.
But His own disciples.
People who had followed and listened to Him, watching Him heal the sick, teach with authority, and multiply bread.
By every outward measure, they appeared to be fully invested.
Then Jesus said something difficult.
He spoke in shocking terms about eating His flesh and drinking His blood.
And those same followers turned around…
Jesus didn’t go after them.
Neither did He soften His words to win them back.
He simply turned to the twelve who remained and quietly asked,
“Do you also want to go away?” (John 6:67)
There’s something about that question I can’t seem to escape. It has followed me through more than one season of leadership.
He knew who would leave.
This part is what really challenges me and at times has left me undone.
Jesus wasn’t surprised.
“Jesus knew from the beginning who they were who did not believe, and who would betray Him.” — John 6:64
He knew the ones who would leave when the teaching became difficult.
He knew Judas would betray Him.
And He still washed his feet.
He knew Peter would deny Him.
But He still called him a rock.
He knew the crowd shouting Hosanna would disappear before Friday.
Yet He loved every one of them completely.
That’s not naïve love.
That’s love that saw everything coming…
and chose to give itself anyway.
Why it hurts so deeply
I’ve lived through seasons where people I loved moved on.
Some left without ever explaining why.
From my experience, the deepest pain isn’t always that they’re gone.
It’s what their leaving seems to say about us.
Did they see something in me that made them walk away?
That’s where the trap begins.
The enemy is ever eager to interpret another person’s departure.
“You were never really valued.”
“Don’t open your heart again.”
If we believe that story, we begin seeing every new relationship through the wound of the last one.
Jesus never allowed the people who left Him to redefine who He already knew Himself to be.
Because His identity was never rooted in who remained.
It was rooted in His Father.
I don’t think it’s an accident that, after watching people leave Him, Jesus spends so much time talking about remaining.
It’s as though Jesus knew something we constantly forget.
People won’t always remain.
That’s the invitation.
Not trying to cling on to everyone who walks away.
But to remain deeply rooted in the One who never does.
When our lives are rooted in Christ, other people’s decisions no longer determine our identity.
But we don’t lose ourselves.
Even Nazareth couldn’t celebrate Him
Jesus experienced this again when He returned home.
“Is this not the carpenter…?” (Mark 6:3)
His own hometown couldn’t see Him clearly.
Instead of celebrating Him, they chose offense.
He didn’t fight to be accepted.
He didn’t spend His energy trying to convince people who had already decided not to receive Him.
He marveled at their unbelief…
and He continued on His way.
He wasn’t rejected because He lacked love. He was rejected because unbelief couldn’t recognize what stood before it.
Sometimes people leave because of something happening in their own hearts, not because something is lacking in yours.
Familiarity can breed contempt.
Another person’s growth can expose unresolved insecurity.
Just as someone else’s blessing can reveal our own hidden offense.
That’s worth remembering when you’re the one being left.
It’s also worth remembering when someone else begins to flourish.
Can I genuinely celebrate what God is doing in another person?
Or does their promotion quietly expose something in me that still needs healing?
Love them while you have them
This is what I have resolved to do as a leader.
Jesus didn’t wait to see who would stay before giving Himself away.
He washed Judas’ feet.
He fed the crowd that would later disappear.
He invested in people knowing some wouldn’t remain.
Not loving people after they’ve proven themselves.
Not withholding love until it’s guaranteed to be returned.
But loving people fully…
for as long as God entrusts them to your care.
“Love one another as I have loved you.” — John 13:34
Knowing what was coming.
The Shepherd Doesn’t Leave
This is what has become an anchor for me.
The Shepherd doesn’t.
And He never asks you to become your own shepherd.
Relationships change.
But the Shepherd remains.
The One who called you son…
The One who called you daughter…
The One who loved you before anyone applauded you…
has never once walked away.
Not for a single moment.
That’s the only foundation secure enough to build your identity upon.
Because when your worth no longer depends on who stays…
you’re finally free to love people…
without demanding they remain.
Sit with these honestly.
Is there someone whose leaving I’ve quietly interpreted as evidence about my own worth?
Have I allowed one painful departure to make me guarded with the people who are still here?
Is there someone I need to bless, even if they never acknowledge what their leaving cost me?
Am I remaining in Christ, or am I trying to remain in people?
Now bring one person before the Father.
Someone who disappointed you.
Someone who misunderstood you.
Someone who walked away.
Ask Him one simple question:
“Father, how do You see them?”
Then ask Him for the grace to love them the way He has loved you.
Not because they’ve earned it.
Not because they’ll come back.
But because you’re learning to remain in the One who never has.