No Looking Back

On Undivided Devotion and the Cost of Following: A Reflection on 2 Corinthians 11:1-6 & Luke 9:57-62

Paul writes to the Corinthians with what he calls “godly jealousy.” He has betrothed them to Christ as a pure virgin to her husband, and now fears they are being seduced away—not through obvious rebellion but through subtle deception, the way the serpent deceived Eve. The concern is not that they will abandon faith entirely but that they will accept “another Jesus,” receive “a different spirit,” embrace “a different gospel.” This is the danger: not outright rejection but dilution, not apostasy but compromise, not denial but distraction. The Corinthians want to follow Christ and something else. They want devotion without cost, transformation without loss, resurrection without cross.

The Lord addresses this same tendency in three encounters on the road. A man declares his readiness: “I will follow You wherever You go.” The response is stark: “Foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay His head.” This is not discouragement. It is truth-telling. Following means homelessness. The one who calls has no security, no comfort, no place of rest in this world. If you follow, expect the same. Another man receives the direct call—”Follow Me”—but asks for time to bury his father first. The request seems reasonable, even pious. Honoring parents is commanded. Yet the Lord responds: “Let the dead bury their own dead, but you go and preach the kingdom of God.” The third man offers to follow but wants first to say goodbye to his household. Again, the response cuts: “No one, having put his hand to the plow, and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God.”

The inner work here exposes where devotion remains divided. The man who declares readiness has not yet faced what following will cost. He imagines discipleship as adventure, purpose, meaning—all of which it is, but not without loss. The Lord’s response invites him to feel the actual implications: no home, no security, no comfort. Can you follow when it costs you everything you’ve been holding onto for stability? The second man faces a different question. He has obligations, responsibilities, legitimate claims on his time and presence. Yet the Lord says these cannot come first. Not because family does not matter, but because the kingdom permits no rivals. The dead—those who remain outside the life Christ brings—can attend to their own affairs. The one called to life must respond immediately or not at all. The third man wants to honor his relationships, maintain his connections, leave well. The Lord’s image of the plow cuts through the excuse: plowing requires looking forward, holding the line straight. One glance back and the furrow wavers. The kingdom demands forward focus. Looking back—whether in nostalgia, regret, longing for what was, or even in proper farewells—renders you unfit.

Paul’s jealousy for the Corinthians stems from the same concern. They are being led astray not by obvious falsehood but by subtle additions. Teachers have come offering a more refined Jesus, a more sophisticated spirit, a more reasonable gospel—one that does not require the discomfort of the cross, the offense of exclusivity, the cost of undivided loyalty. Eve was deceived not by a frontal assault on truth but by the suggestion of enhancement: “You will be like God, knowing good and evil.” The serpent did not tell her to stop trusting God. He offered her a way to trust God and herself, to have divine knowledge and autonomous judgment, to maintain relationship while establishing independence. The Corinthians face the same temptation. They can follow Christ and maintain their status, embrace the gospel and keep their comfort, be betrothed to the Lord and flirt with other lovers.

This is cosmic betrayal disguised as sophisticated faith. The universe is being reconciled to God through Christ. Humanity is being restored to its calling as royal priesthood, mediating divine presence, bearing the image fully. This work permits no additions. Christ does not improve human religion or enhance human wisdom. He does not add to what humanity already possesses. He is the new creation breaking into the old, the resurrection life invading death’s territory, the kingdom arriving with power. To add “another Jesus” is to reject the Jesus who actually comes. To supplement the gospel with human wisdom is to empty it of power. The betrothal Paul describes is not one relationship among many. It is the relationship that reorders all others. When the Corinthians allow other teachings to share authority with the gospel, they are not broadening their perspective. They are committing adultery.

What this reveals about God: He is not interested in partial devotion. The Lord does not negotiate. He does not say, “Follow Me when convenient,” or “Bury your father and then we’ll talk,” or “Say your goodbyes and catch up with Me later.” The kingdom comes with absolute claims because the King is not one authority among many. He is the authority from whom all other authority derives. To make Him wait while other concerns are addressed is to place those concerns above Him. To look back while following is to declare that what you left behind still has a claim on your heart. Divine love is jealous—not with the petty jealousy of insecure ego, but with the righteous jealousy of a creator for His creation, a husband for His bride, truth for those being deceived. God will not share His people with rivals because rivals destroy what they claim to enhance.

Paul acknowledges that he is “untrained in speech.” The false teachers presumably speak more eloquently, present more sophisticated arguments, offer more refined theology. But eloquence without truth is seduction. The gospel does not need enhancement. Christ does not require better marketing. The power is in the message itself—God reconciling the world to Himself, death destroyed, humanity restored, creation transfigured. To add human wisdom to this is not to strengthen it but to dilute it, not to broaden it but to compromise it. Paul’s lack of polish becomes his credential. He has nothing to offer except the gospel itself. The Corinthians must choose: the pure word delivered by an unsophisticated messenger, or the polished presentations of teachers who preach another Jesus.

The ancient pattern: Israel was called to be God’s people, His treasured possession, a kingdom of priests and a holy nation. This did not mean ethnic superiority or exclusive access to common grace. It meant bearing the unique vocation of mediating divine presence to all nations. When Israel worshiped other gods, the prophets called it adultery. Not because God is insecure, but because the vocation requires undivided loyalty. You cannot mediate the presence of the one true God while simultaneously honoring the gods of the nations. The two callings contradict. Israel’s repeated failure was not outright rejection of the Lord but addition—we will worship the Lord and Baal, follow the covenant and the fertility cults, maintain our identity and blend with surrounding nations. This is what Paul fears in Corinth. Not that they will abandon Christ entirely, but that they will add to Him, supplement Him, divide their devotion.

Christ fulfills Israel’s vocation by living the undivided devotion Israel could not sustain. He follows the Father without looking back. When His mother and brothers seek Him, He asks, “Who is My mother and My brothers?” and points to those doing God’s will. When Peter suggests He avoid the cross, He responds, “Get behind Me, Satan.” No rival claims, no divided loyalty, no looking back. The plowman holds the line perfectly. This is the pattern into which believers are being formed. Not achieving perfection through willpower, but allowing the undivided devotion of Christ to become theirs through participation in His life. Paul’s jealousy for the Corinthians is God’s jealousy for His bride—the determination that what has been purchased at such cost will not be given to another.

The three men on the road represent three forms of divided devotion: the readiness that has not counted the cost, the legitimate obligation that still takes precedence over the kingdom, and the backward glance that keeps one foot in the old life while attempting to step into the new. The Lord does not condemn these men. He exposes the reality of what following requires. The kingdom is not one concern among many. It is the concern that reorders all others. Family, security, comfort, farewells—none of these are evil. But when they compete with the call, when they delay obedience, when they pull focus backward, they disqualify. Not because God is harsh, but because the plow will not work if the plowman looks back. The furrow wavers. The field remains unplowed. The work fails.

Paul presents the Corinthians to Christ as a pure virgin. This is their identity—set apart, consecrated, betrothed. The false teachers offer to enhance this identity with additional wisdom, supplemental revelations, more sophisticated understanding. Paul recognizes this as the serpent’s strategy: “You will be like God.” You can have Christ and also this other thing. You can be devoted and also maintain your options. You can follow and also look back. The apostle’s jealousy rejects the addition. The gospel is sufficient. Christ is enough. Devotion must be undivided or it is not devotion at all. The kingdom permits no rivals because only the kingdom offers the life for which humanity was created. To add to it is to lose it. To supplement it is to betray it. To look back is to demonstrate unfitness for the furrow that must be plowed straight ahead.