That Fox and That Hen Text: Luke 13:31-35
Introduction: The Unflinching King
We live in an age of calculated political maneuvering. Our leaders, such as they are, speak in poll-tested phrases, constantly trimming their sails to catch the prevailing winds of public opinion. They are driven by pragmatism, by what works, by what will secure their power for another election cycle. Their great fear is offending the wrong people, losing a key demographic, or saying something that might require a groveling apology tour. They are, in a word, foxes. They are cunning, but their cunning is the low cunning of the creature, not the high wisdom of the Creator.
Into this world of slinking, self-serving politicians, the words of Jesus Christ crash with the force of a thunderclap. Here we see the Lord confronted with a direct political threat from a petty tyrant, Herod Antipas. And His response is not one of fear, or negotiation, or even cautious diplomacy. It is a response of sovereign defiance, unwavering purpose, and heartbreaking love. He is not a fox, calculating his survival. He is a king, striding toward His throne, and that throne is a cross in the heart of the city that kills prophets.
This passage is a collision of two kingdoms. The kingdom of Herod is the kingdom of this world: built on threats, violence, and the preservation of self. The kingdom of Christ is the kingdom of heaven: built on sacrifice, divine authority, and the unflinching accomplishment of the Father's will. Jesus is not sidetracked by the yapping of a fox because His eyes are fixed on the prize set before Him, which is the salvation of His people through His own death and resurrection. This text shows us the steel in the spine of the Savior, but it also reveals the tender heart of God for a rebellious people. It is a declaration of His unstoppable mission and a lament over those who refuse His shelter.
We must understand that the courage of Christ in the face of Herod is the same courage He calls us to. We are not to be intimidated by the foxes of our day, whether they sit in government halls, corporate boardrooms, or university faculty lounges. Our task is not to calculate our odds of survival but to proclaim the truth of the kingdom, knowing that the King we serve has already declared the outcome.
The Text
Just at that time some Pharisees approached, saying to Him, “Leave and go from here, for Herod wants to kill You.” And He said to them, “Go and tell that fox, ‘Behold, I cast out demons and perform cures today and tomorrow, and on the third day I finish.’ Nevertheless I must journey on today and tomorrow and the next day, for it is not possible that a prophet would perish outside of Jerusalem. O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those sent to her! How often I wanted to gather your children together, just as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you did not want it! Behold, your house is left to you desolate, and I say to you, you will not see Me until the time comes when you say, ‘BLESSED IS HE WHO COMES IN THE NAME OF THE LORD!’ ”
(Luke 13:31-35 LSB)
A Message for That Fox (v. 31-32)
We begin with the warning and the Lord's defiant reply.
"Just at that time some Pharisees approached, saying to Him, 'Leave and go from here, for Herod wants to kill You.' And He said to them, 'Go and tell that fox, ‘Behold, I cast out demons and perform cures today and tomorrow, and on the third day I finish.’'" (Luke 13:31-32)
The Pharisees come to Jesus with a warning. It is hard to know their precise motive. Are they genuinely concerned for His safety? Or are they, more likely, in cahoots with Herod, trying to scare Jesus out of their jurisdiction? Given their general disposition toward Jesus, the latter seems more probable. They want Him gone, and a threat from the local tyrant is a convenient way to achieve that.
But Jesus is not intimidated. He sees right through the political theater. His response is remarkable for its bluntness and its absolute authority. "Go and tell that fox." A fox in Jewish thought was a creature known for two things: cunning and insignificance. It was a sly, destructive, but ultimately minor pest. Jesus is not calling Herod a lion, a creature of royal strength. He is dismissing him as a clever, but ultimately powerless, nuisance. This is not how one typically speaks of a king who has the power of life and death. This is how the King of Kings speaks of a petty dictator whose authority is entirely derivative and temporary.
Then Jesus lays out His divine schedule. "Behold, I cast out demons and perform cures today and tomorrow, and on the third day I finish." Jesus is not on Herod's timeline. He is on His Father's timeline. The phrases "today and tomorrow" and "the third day" are not just a literal three-day forecast. They are a Hebraic way of saying, "I will continue my work for the appointed time, and when that time is complete, I will accomplish my purpose." His work of casting out demons and healing is a direct assault on the kingdom of Satan. He is binding the strong man. And this work will not be cut short by some political threat. It will culminate precisely as planned, on the third day.
The phrase "on the third day I finish" is saturated with meaning. The Greek word, teleioumai, means to be perfected, to be completed, to reach the goal. Of course, this points directly to His resurrection on the third day. His entire ministry, His entire purpose, is aimed at the cross and the empty tomb. Herod cannot stop it. The Pharisees cannot stop it. Satan cannot stop it. The plan was set in eternity, and it will be executed in history with divine precision. Jesus is declaring that His death is not a tragic accident but a sovereignly orchestrated triumph.
The Divine Necessity (v. 33)
Jesus then explains why He is not fleeing from danger, but rather heading directly into it.
"Nevertheless I must journey on today and tomorrow and the next day, for it is not possible that a prophet would perish outside of Jerusalem." (Luke 13:33 LSB)
The word "must" here is key. It speaks of a divine necessity. Jesus is not a victim of fate; He is an agent of His Father's decree. He is not being driven to Jerusalem by His enemies; He is being drawn there by the cords of redemptive love and sovereign purpose. He had already "set His face to go to Jerusalem" (Luke 9:51), and nothing will deter Him.
His reasoning is filled with a kind of holy irony. "It is not possible that a prophet would perish outside of Jerusalem." Jerusalem was the holy city, the center of worship, the place where God had put His name. It was supposed to be the safest place on earth for a man of God. But in its rebellion, it had become the very opposite. It had developed a long and bloody resume as the official executioner of the prophets God sent to it. From the prophets of old to John the Baptist, the pattern was clear. Jerusalem was the place where the covenantal showdown would occur.
Jesus, as the ultimate Prophet, must go there to die. His death cannot happen in some backwater in Galilee at the hands of a fox like Herod. It must happen at the center of the religious world, at the hands of the covenant people, during the Passover feast. This is not because of some geographical magic, but because His death is the culmination of Israel's covenant rebellion. He is going to the heart of the problem to provide the only solution.
The Heart of the Hen (v. 34)
The tone then shifts dramatically from sovereign defiance to profound sorrow. The King who stared down a fox now weeps over His city.
"O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those sent to her! How often I wanted to gather your children together, just as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you did not want it!" (Luke 13:34 LSB)
This is one of the most poignant moments in all of Scripture. Jesus repeats the name, "Jerusalem, Jerusalem," a classic expression of deep grief. He diagnoses her spiritual sickness with brutal honesty: she is the city that kills the very messengers God sends to heal her. This is the height of covenantal insanity.
And then He reveals His heart. "How often I wanted to gather your children..." This is not the sentimental wish of a frustrated deity. This is the expression of God's genuine, free offer of the gospel to all. The problem is not on God's end. The problem is not a lack of desire in Him. The image He uses is one of profound tenderness and fierce protection. He is like a mother hen who sees a hawk circling overhead and clucks desperately for her chicks to run to the safety of her wings. It is a picture of love, vulnerability, and shelter. This is the posture of God toward His covenant people throughout their history. He sent prophets, He gave the law, He performed miracles, all to draw them to Himself.
But the verse ends with the tragic verdict: "and you did not want it." Or, "you were not willing." The failure was not in the offer, but in the refusal. This is the mystery of human responsibility. God's sovereign plan is never thwarted, yet man is fully accountable for his rebellion. The Arminian reads this and says, "See, man's will is sovereign." The hyper-Calvinist reads this and tries to explain away the genuine desire of God expressed here. The biblical position is to affirm both truths without flinching. God genuinely offers salvation, and He grieves over the rebellion of those who reject it. And yet, their rejection was foreknown and ordained within His larger purpose to glorify Himself through both salvation and judgment. The hen calls to all the chicks, but only the elect run to her for shelter.
The Desolate House (v. 35)
The consequence of this refusal is stated in stark and terrifying terms.
"Behold, your house is left to you desolate, and I say to you, you will not see Me until the time comes when you say, ‘BLESSED IS HE WHO COMES IN THE NAME OF THE LORD!’" (Luke 13:35 LSB)
Because they would not have Him as their Savior, their "house" is left to them desolate. What is this house? It is, first, the Temple, the house of God. But notice the shift in pronoun. It is no longer "My Father's house," but "your house." God is moving out. He is withdrawing His protective presence. And a temple without God's presence is just a pile of impressive rocks, waiting to be knocked down. This was a direct prophecy of the destruction of Jerusalem in A.D. 70, a judgment that would fall on that generation for rejecting their Messiah.
But the house is also the house of Israel, the nation itself. The covenant people, in rejecting the Covenant King, are themselves left desolate, spiritually barren. This is the great tragedy of apostasy. They had all the promises, the covenants, the law, the temple. But they rejected the substance of it all, who is Christ, and were left with an empty shell.
Yet, even in this declaration of judgment, there is a glimmer of hope. A door is left open. "You will not see Me until the time comes when you say, ‘BLESSED IS HE WHO COMES IN THE NAME OF THE LORD!’" This is a quote from Psalm 118, a messianic psalm. Jesus is saying that their desolation is not necessarily permanent. There is a future for national Israel. He is predicting a day of national repentance, when the Jewish people as a whole will recognize Him as their Messiah and welcome Him with the very words they should have used at His first coming. This is what Paul talks about in Romans 11, when "all Israel will be saved."
This is a profoundly postmillennial promise. History is not just spiraling downward. The gospel is at work, and one day it will accomplish this great turning. The same people who shouted "Crucify Him!" will one day shout "Hosanna!" Their house is desolate now, but the Lord has not forgotten His covenant promises to Abraham. The desolation will last until they look upon Him whom they have pierced and welcome Him as their blessed King.
Conclusion: King, Hen, and Hope
So what do we take from this? First, we must see the absolute, unflinching sovereignty of our King. He is not rattled by the threats of petty tyrants. His plan is unfolding perfectly. We can have absolute confidence that His kingdom will come and His will will be done on earth as it is in heaven, regardless of what the foxes in Washington or Brussels might have to say about it.
Second, we must see the tender heart of our God. He is a gathering God. He is a sheltering God. He is the hen who longs to protect His people. The gospel is a genuine offer of refuge to all who will hear. If you are outside of Christ today, do not imagine that the fault lies with God. The wings are offered. The call has gone out. The only thing keeping you from safety is your own unwillingness to come.
Finally, we must live in the light of this great hope. The world may look desolate. Our culture may seem like a house abandoned by God. But the story is not over. The King has promised that one day, even those who rejected Him most violently will turn and bless His name. This is the power of the gospel. It can turn a prophet-killing city into a city of praise. It can take a desolate house and fill it with the glory of God. And it can take rebellious sinners like us, and gather us safely under the shadow of His wings.