Doing Everything Right... And Still Losing: Matthew 14:1-21
- Oct 26, 2025
- 3 min read
Two feasts, two kings (Matthew 14:1–21)
If you’ll flip with me to Matthew chapter 14, starting in verse 1. In this passage, Matthew places two meals—two feasts—side by side: Herod’s feast and Jesus’ feast. And when you hold them next to each other, you start to see the difference between activity and alignment—between looking like a king and actually living under the King.
Herod’s feast: reputation that leads to death
Matthew tells us Herod the tetrarch heard about Jesus and assumes Jesus must be John the Baptist raised from the dead. Then we get the backstory: Herod had John arrested and imprisoned because John kept telling him, “It is not lawful for you to have her,” referring to Herod’s relationship with Herodias. Herod wants to kill John but fears the crowd—because the people regard John as a prophet.
Then the feast happens.
At Herod’s birthday celebration, Herodias’ daughter dances, and Herod makes an oath to give her whatever she asks. Prompted by her mother, she asks for John the Baptist’s head on a platter, and though Herod is grieved, he orders it because of his oath and his guests. John is beheaded, the head is delivered, and the story ends with John’s disciples burying his body.
This is what it looks like when someone chooses reputation over righteousness. Herod has the palace, the party, the power, the “king” vibe—but underneath it is fear, lust, and image-management. And in the end, it leaves death behind him.
A personal picture: “I did everything right and still lost”
Here’s why that hits so close to home: most people know what it feels like to do everything right and still lose.
In my first ministry job, I was hired in 2020 to relaunch a kids ministry after COVID—starting from zero. In terms of metrics and momentum, things looked great: volunteers grew, attendance rose, and we even had the biggest event in that church’s history with a drive-thru trunk-or-treat.
And then the Monday after Thanksgiving, I walked into what I thought was a normal meeting—and I was told I was fired.
The thing that haunted me wasn’t just the loss—it was the confusion. What did I do wrong?
But the answer I got was simple: “You’re not a good fit.”
And looking back, here’s what I realized: it wasn’t a lack of ability. It was a lack of alignment. I didn’t ask enough questions. I didn’t clarify expectations. I didn’t stay in sync. And if it’s possible to be misaligned with a boss you see every day, how much more possible is it to be misaligned with God—while still staying busy?
That’s the warning: you can do “all the right things” and still miss God’s will for your life.
Jesus’ feast: compassion that leads to life
After John is killed, Matthew says Jesus hears the news and withdraws by boat to a secluded place. But the crowds follow Him on foot, and when Jesus comes ashore, He sees them, feels compassion, and heals their sick. As evening comes, the disciples tell Jesus to send the crowds away to find food, but Jesus says, “They do not need to go away. You give them something to eat.”
They tell Him they only have five loaves and two fish. Jesus takes what they have, blesses it, breaks it, gives it to the disciples, and the disciples distribute it to the people. Everyone eats and is satisfied, and they collect twelve baskets of leftovers; the text says about five thousand men ate, besides women and children.
So put the tables side by side:
Herod hosts a feast for the powerful and ends up serving death. Jesus hosts a feast for the needy and ends up serving life.
Herod is trying to save face. Jesus is trying to show the Father’s love.Herod looks like a king in a palace. Jesus looks like anything but a king on a hillside—yet He’s the true King.
The question: which feast are you hosting?
So here’s the question that gets personal fast:
Are you hosting Herod’s feast—one of self-image, perfection, self-indulgence, and reputation?
Or are you hosting Jesus’ feast—messy, chaotic, full of people you can’t control, where nobody has to prove themselves to be served?
Because alignment with God doesn’t start with doing more. It starts with giving God your attention—and then giving that attention away to the person sitting next to you.
How alignment begins
Alignment looks like Jesus in Matthew 14:
Giving yourself away even when it’s uncomfortable. (Jesus withdrew for a reason—and still rose to the occasion when people showed up.)
Moving past merely tolerating people and actually connecting with them.
Letting community challenge you, sharpen you, and change you—not as isolated spiritual islands, but as a family learning obedience together.
The call here isn’t “do more religious activity.” The call is to be aligned: with God, and with the people God has placed around you.
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