To whom shall we go?
When people walk away
There is a break this phase has to name without flinching: people leave. Not a church, not a season, but Christ Himself. John records the hour bluntly. After a teaching too hard to swallow, many of Jesus' disciples drew back and walked with Him no more — not enemies, not outsiders, but followers, the crowd that had eaten the loaves and called Him good. Not every disconnect leads through a wilderness to a truer faith. Some lead away, full stop. Jesus does not chase them down the road or soften the saying to win them back. He turns instead to the Twelve, and the question He asks is terrible in its openness: do you also want to go away? He gives even His closest the room to leave. And into that silence Peter says the thing that holds, the answer that is not a boast but almost a groan: Lord, to whom would we go? You have the words of eternal life. He does not stay because staying is easy or because his questions are answered. He stays because he has looked at the alternatives and found there is nowhere truer to walk.
“They went out from us, but they didn't belong to us; for if they had belonged to us, they would have continued with us.”
— John — 1 John 2:19 (WEB)
“Lord, to whom would we go? You have the words of eternal life.”
Disconnect must be honest that some breaks lead away from Christ, not toward Him. The phase will not coerce and it will not pretend the danger is unreal. What it asks of you is only this: before you walk away, answer Peter's question honestly — to whom would you go, if not to the One who has the words of eternal life?
In your own shaking you may feel the pull to walk away entirely, not merely from the people who wounded you, but from Christ. Before you go, sit with Peter's question, and let it be a real question and not a slogan. To whom would you actually go? The break that leaves Jesus behind leaves behind the words of eternal life, and nothing else on offer has them. There are honest reasons to doubt a church, to grieve a tradition, to walk out of a room that has become unbearable. Do those things if you must. But notice that none of them require leaving the only One who has the words of life. Peter stayed not because the teaching had gotten easy but because he had run the alternatives to their end and found them empty. That is the one reason to stay that survives the shaking — not that it is comfortable here, but that there is nowhere truer to go.
The Church feels each departure as a wound, and some leavings prove final. After a teaching too hard to swallow, the gospel says plainly, many of Jesus' disciples drew back and walked with Him no more, not enemies but followers who had eaten the loaves. He did not chase them down the road or soften the saying; He turned to the Twelve and gave even them room to go: do you also want to go away? John is honest elsewhere that some go out because they were never truly of the Body. But the answer is neither panic nor pressure. The whole Church is called simply to keep being the place that has, and freely offers, the words of eternal life, so that those who stay, stay for the only reason that finally holds.
What cannot be shaken is the One the leavers leave. Crowds thin, followers turn back, the visible church loses its numbers in a season. But Christ still has the words of eternal life, and they do not become less true because some walk away from them. He remains, holding out life, when the room empties.
- Am I being pulled to walk away not just from a church but from Christ Himself?
- If I left, to whom would I actually go that has the words of eternal life?
- What is the real reason I am staying, and is it one that will hold in the shaking?
Lord, in this shaking I have felt the pull to leave You altogether. Before I take a step, let me hear Peter's question as my own: to whom would I go? You have the words of eternal life. Hold me when the teaching is hard. There is nowhere truer to go. Amen.