Commentary - Matthew 8:18-22

Bird's-eye view

In this brief but potent section, Matthew presents two encounters that cut to the very heart of what it means to follow Jesus. Christ is not gathering fans; He is calling disciples. And discipleship, as these verses make starkly clear, is not a casual add-on to one's existing life. It is a radical reordering of all priorities. The Lord has just demonstrated His authority over disease and demons, and the crowds are swelling. But Jesus is not interested in crowd size; He is interested in genuine commitment. He uses these two interactions, one with an eager scribe and the other with a hesitant disciple, to clarify the terms of discipleship. It involves a radical homelessness in this world and a radical redefinition of our most basic earthly loyalties. Following Jesus is not about what you get, but about who you follow, and the cost is everything.

The first man, a scribe, offers a blanket commitment, seemingly without considering the cost. Jesus' reply about foxes and birds is a poetic but firm reality check. The second man, already a disciple, wants to follow, but on his own terms, with his own timing. Jesus' sharp retort about the dead burying the dead is a call to absolute, immediate allegiance to the kingdom of God over all other obligations, even the most sacred cultural and familial duties. Together, these two snapshots serve as a permanent warning against cheap grace and easy-believism. The call of Christ is an all-or-nothing proposition.

Outline

Context In Matthew

This passage is strategically placed. Matthew has just presented a series of powerful miracles in chapter 8: the cleansing of a leper, the healing of the centurion's servant, and the healing of Peter's mother-in-law, followed by a whole host of exorcisms and healings. The result is that a great crowd is following Him. It is in this context of rising popularity and public spectacle that Jesus lays down the stringent requirements of discipleship. He is actively filtering the crowd. He is not looking for numbers; He is looking for true followers. This section acts as a crucial hinge between the demonstration of His divine power and the subsequent accounts of His authority over nature (calming the storm) and the demonic realm (the Gadarene demoniacs). Before showing His disciples the extent of His power, He first ensures they understand the extent of the commitment He requires.

Clause-by-Clause Commentary

v. 18 Now when Jesus saw a crowd around Him, He gave orders to depart to the other side of the sea.

The crowds are a sign of success in the world's eyes, but Jesus often treats them as a problem to be managed. He is not a modern celebrity pastor chasing ratings. The presence of a large crowd prompts Him not to ramp up the performance, but to withdraw. He is not here to be popular; He is here to do His Father's will, which involves the intensive training of a few men. His goal is not mass appeal but deep, radical discipleship. So, He gives the order to get in the boat and leave. This is a deliberate move to separate the curious from the committed.

v. 19 Then a scribe came and said to Him, “Teacher, I will follow You wherever You go.”

Here we have a surprising volunteer. Scribes were the religious lawyers of the day, experts in the Mosaic Law, and generally part of the establishment that would later become openly hostile to Jesus. For a scribe to approach Jesus and call him "Teacher" is significant. His offer is sweeping and absolute: "I will follow You wherever You go." On the surface, this is a model declaration of faith. It is zealous, unconditional, and public. He seems to be signing a blank check, ready for anything. But the Lord, who knows what is in man, sees something more, or perhaps something less.

v. 20 And Jesus said to him, “The foxes have holes and the birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay His head.”

Jesus' response is not a simple "welcome aboard." He answers the scribe's enthusiasm with a sobering dose of reality. He doesn't question the man's sincerity, but He does test its foundation. He points to the created order: even common animals have a place of rest, a home, a den. Foxes have their holes, birds have their nests. They have a place of belonging and security in the world. But the Son of Man, the representative of all humanity, the true Adam, is a wanderer. He is, in a profound sense, homeless. This is not just about a lack of real estate. It speaks to His entire mission. He is an alien in a world that has rejected its Creator. To follow Him is to embrace this same rootlessness, this same detachment from worldly comforts and securities. The scribe was likely a man of some standing, with a home and a respected place in society. Jesus is asking him, "Are you truly ready to give all that up? Not just in theory, but in practice?"

v. 21 And another of the disciples said to Him, “Lord, permit me first to go and bury my father.”

The second man is different. He is not a volunteer from the crowd but is already identified as "another of the disciples." He doesn't offer a grand promise; he makes a request. He wants to follow, but he has a condition. "Lord," he says, showing respect, "permit me first..." That word "first" is the key. He has an obligation that he believes must take precedence over the call of Christ. And it is a weighty one. In Jewish culture, burying one's father was one of the most sacred duties a son could perform. It was a matter of profound honor and religious obligation. It's possible his father had just died, or more likely, he was asking to remain at home until his father, who was likely elderly, eventually passed away and he could settle the estate. Either way, he is asking for a delay. He is trying to fit Jesus into his existing schedule of duties.

v. 22 But Jesus said to him, “Follow Me, and allow the dead to bury their own dead.”

Jesus' reply is shocking, and it is meant to be. It would have sounded harsh and deeply counter-cultural to the original hearers, as it often does to us. He is not being callous toward family grief. He is making a radical statement about priorities. The call of the kingdom is so urgent, so absolute, that it supersedes even the most fundamental human duties. He draws a sharp line: there are two kinds of people, the spiritually alive who follow Him, and the spiritually dead who are preoccupied with the affairs of a dying world. "Let the spiritually dead," He says, "tend to the affairs of the physically dead." The business of the kingdom is the business of life, and it cannot wait. If your father is spiritually dead, let him and his spiritually dead friends and relatives worry about the funeral arrangements. Your task is to follow the one who is Life itself. This is not a general principle for neglecting family, but a specific, authoritative command from the Lord of life to this particular man, revealing that nothing, absolutely nothing, can come before allegiance to Him.

Application

This passage confronts us with the non-negotiable terms of Christian discipleship. We live in an age of comfortable, convenient, consumer Christianity, and these words of Jesus are a bucket of ice water on all of that. We are called to examine our own commitments.

First, like the scribe, we must count the cost. It is easy to make grand, emotional declarations of faith in a worship service. It is another thing entirely to live as though we have no permanent home here. Are we willing to be outcasts? Are we willing to sacrifice comfort, security, and social standing for the sake of the Son of Man? Following Jesus means our ultimate security is not in our house, our 401k, or our reputation, but in Him alone.

Second, like the hesitant disciple, we must check our priorities. What are the "firsts" in our lives? Is it "Lord, I'll follow you, but first let me get my career established"? "First, let me get the kids through college"? "First, let me secure my retirement"? Jesus demands to be first, with no qualifications. The kingdom of God is not one priority among many; it is the central, organizing reality of our lives. The call to "Follow Me" is an immediate, present-tense command. We must let the spiritually dead world busy itself with its own dead-end affairs. We have been called to life, and that means following the King, right now, without delay and without excuse.