It was a hard thing he said, and they could barely digest it. It upended things they thought they knew, and moreover—it just didn’t make sense. “Who can listen to it?” they grumbled, and he heard. It was ironic. He made the ears that wouldn’t hear him; he perfectly discerned their offended mumbles.

Many of those who’d previously followed closely stopped following that day. Maybe it was too much. Too intense, too confusing, too overwhelming, too rattling to their sense of comfort and stability. Why look to this guy for truth when there were options that clashed less with their sensibilities, that asked them to uproot less of their thinking, that asked them to give less of themselves?