The Naked Runaway
The Gospel of Mark tells the story of Jesus’ life in a straightforward, fast-moving way, and it includes a brief, odd moment that’s easy to miss. After Jesus’ arrest in Gethsemane, as the disciples scatter in fear, we read: “And a young man followed him, with nothing but a linen cloth about his body. And they seized him, but he left the linen cloth and ran away naked” (Mark 14:51-52).
Who was this mysterious man? Why does he show up, streaking through the chaos like a passing shadow in the night? Was he a demonized man creating more chaos? Scholars have been puzzled over this for centuries, but because of the oddness and obscureness of it, I’ve never given it much thought. However, as I read through chapter 14 recently, I began to wrestle with it too after God stirred my heart about our failures and His faithfulness. This chapter highlights the fact that Jesus’ closest disciples would also run from His presence amidst all the chaos of His arrest.
Some evangelical commentators, like Thomas Constable and James Edwards, suggest this naked runaway might be Mark himself, the Gospel’s author. It’s a theory that struck me. Tradition also suggests that the Last Supper happened in Mark’s mother’s house (Acts 12:12). So maybe young John Mark was roused from sleep in his linen nightshirt and chased after Jesus out of loyalty or curiosity. But when the soldiers grabbed him, fear took hold and he bolted, while leaving his dignity behind.
Picture it: a disciple wannabe, caught in the mayhem, trying to follow Jesus but succumbing to the fear and pressure of it all, just like the Twelve who fled moments before (Mark 14:50). Abraham Kuruvilla, in a Journal of the Evangelical Theological Society article observed that this naked flight demonstrates the shame and failure of discipleship when the heat’s on.
Now, here’s where it gets wild. If this was Mark, could he be the same Mark from Acts—the one who bailed on Paul and Barnabas in the middle of their missionary journey? Acts 13:13 tells us John Mark joined their first missionary journey, but then at one point he ditched them in Perga, and headed back to Jerusalem. No explanation is given, he just took off.
Later, when Barnabas wanted to give him another shot, Paul said no way—“he deserted us!” (Acts 15:38, paraphrased). The disagreement got so heated that Paul and Barnabas split up (Acts 15:39). Chuck Swindoll once pointed out that the real issue wasn’t their differing views (Barnabas saw potential, Paul saw risk), rather it was how disagreeably they clashed. Both had solid points, but their rift shows how quick we are to give up on each other when Jesus never does.
Years later though, Paul’s tune changed. In Colossians 4:10 and 2 Timothy 4:11, he calls Mark a “fellow worker” and “useful to me.” Restoration happened. Mark messed up, but God wasn’t done with him—just like that naked runaway wasn’t the end of his story.
Now back in Mark 14, the context is heartbreak and abandonment. Jesus had just told His disciples, “You will all fall away, for it is written, ‘I will strike the shepherd, and the sheep will be scattered’” (Mark 14:27). Jesus knew they would forsake Him, He knew Peter would deny Him and He knew the disciples would flee in fear. And no doubt He knew of the young man’s naked retreat. Moreover, Jesus also knew they would all have something in common. Shame filled them all. Peter wept bitterly after his betrayal (Mark 14:72). The runaway’s bare flight paints this vivid picture: sin strips us and exposes us. Yet Jesus didn’t flinch. After revealing what He knew they would do, He added, “But after I am raised up, I will go before you to Galilee” (Mark 14:28). He knew they would blow it, but He made an appointment to meet them anyway—post-resurrection, no less!
Years ago, I heard Jim Cymbala preach on this, and it hit me like a freight train. He said, “Galilee was where He first called them… He’s saying, you might have given up on Him, but He will never give up on you. You might have made a disaster of the whole thing, but He’s not throwing you away. He wants to start over.” Why Galilee? It’s where the fishermen’s journey with Jesus began. It’s where He first called them so that He might make them fishers of men. Again, Cymbala’s insights here words stuck with me: “Jesus waits there, not to scold, but to restore. He knew they would all forsake Him before it happened.” And perhaps He even knew of Mark’s naked escape. Yet He made plans to meet them, to heal them, right where it all started.
Beloved, that’s the gospel for us naked runaways. We mess up—big time. Marriages falter because we stop fighting for them. Friendships are severed when we’re slow to mercy, but quick to anger. Like I prayed, “Lord, we’re needy—change our hearts to be like Yours. Help us not give up on each other.” Shame is real; it’s God’s megaphone to show our sin and our need. The runaway’s nakedness mirrors it. Shame is raw, and humbling. But it’s not the end of the story. Jesus’ love towers over our failures. O how many of you know, self-condemnation and Satan’s lies whisper, “You’re too far gone.” The devil is a liar! Jesus waits in Galilee with arms open wide and ready to extend His matchless grace.
The disciples got it and so did Peter. After weeping bitterly, he also met Jesus in Galilee (John 21), and the Lord restored him exhorting him to “Feed my sheep” (John 21:17). If that naked runaway was Mark, he too found redemption, authoring this Gospel and helping Paul in the ministry years later.
We may feel unworthy, but Cymbala’s right: “My love,” Jesus says, “is greater than your mess up.” Jesus doesn’t abandon us; He pursues us. So, where are you? Have you drifted? Are you full of shame? Turn to Jesus. He bore it all on the cross. Repent. He’s waiting to restart your story—right where you first met Him. Shame reveals our need; His grace reveals His heart. Run to Jesus!
Who was this mysterious man? Why does he show up, streaking through the chaos like a passing shadow in the night? Was he a demonized man creating more chaos? Scholars have been puzzled over this for centuries, but because of the oddness and obscureness of it, I’ve never given it much thought. However, as I read through chapter 14 recently, I began to wrestle with it too after God stirred my heart about our failures and His faithfulness. This chapter highlights the fact that Jesus’ closest disciples would also run from His presence amidst all the chaos of His arrest.
Some evangelical commentators, like Thomas Constable and James Edwards, suggest this naked runaway might be Mark himself, the Gospel’s author. It’s a theory that struck me. Tradition also suggests that the Last Supper happened in Mark’s mother’s house (Acts 12:12). So maybe young John Mark was roused from sleep in his linen nightshirt and chased after Jesus out of loyalty or curiosity. But when the soldiers grabbed him, fear took hold and he bolted, while leaving his dignity behind.
Picture it: a disciple wannabe, caught in the mayhem, trying to follow Jesus but succumbing to the fear and pressure of it all, just like the Twelve who fled moments before (Mark 14:50). Abraham Kuruvilla, in a Journal of the Evangelical Theological Society article observed that this naked flight demonstrates the shame and failure of discipleship when the heat’s on.
Now, here’s where it gets wild. If this was Mark, could he be the same Mark from Acts—the one who bailed on Paul and Barnabas in the middle of their missionary journey? Acts 13:13 tells us John Mark joined their first missionary journey, but then at one point he ditched them in Perga, and headed back to Jerusalem. No explanation is given, he just took off.
Later, when Barnabas wanted to give him another shot, Paul said no way—“he deserted us!” (Acts 15:38, paraphrased). The disagreement got so heated that Paul and Barnabas split up (Acts 15:39). Chuck Swindoll once pointed out that the real issue wasn’t their differing views (Barnabas saw potential, Paul saw risk), rather it was how disagreeably they clashed. Both had solid points, but their rift shows how quick we are to give up on each other when Jesus never does.
Years later though, Paul’s tune changed. In Colossians 4:10 and 2 Timothy 4:11, he calls Mark a “fellow worker” and “useful to me.” Restoration happened. Mark messed up, but God wasn’t done with him—just like that naked runaway wasn’t the end of his story.
Now back in Mark 14, the context is heartbreak and abandonment. Jesus had just told His disciples, “You will all fall away, for it is written, ‘I will strike the shepherd, and the sheep will be scattered’” (Mark 14:27). Jesus knew they would forsake Him, He knew Peter would deny Him and He knew the disciples would flee in fear. And no doubt He knew of the young man’s naked retreat. Moreover, Jesus also knew they would all have something in common. Shame filled them all. Peter wept bitterly after his betrayal (Mark 14:72). The runaway’s bare flight paints this vivid picture: sin strips us and exposes us. Yet Jesus didn’t flinch. After revealing what He knew they would do, He added, “But after I am raised up, I will go before you to Galilee” (Mark 14:28). He knew they would blow it, but He made an appointment to meet them anyway—post-resurrection, no less!
Years ago, I heard Jim Cymbala preach on this, and it hit me like a freight train. He said, “Galilee was where He first called them… He’s saying, you might have given up on Him, but He will never give up on you. You might have made a disaster of the whole thing, but He’s not throwing you away. He wants to start over.” Why Galilee? It’s where the fishermen’s journey with Jesus began. It’s where He first called them so that He might make them fishers of men. Again, Cymbala’s insights here words stuck with me: “Jesus waits there, not to scold, but to restore. He knew they would all forsake Him before it happened.” And perhaps He even knew of Mark’s naked escape. Yet He made plans to meet them, to heal them, right where it all started.
Beloved, that’s the gospel for us naked runaways. We mess up—big time. Marriages falter because we stop fighting for them. Friendships are severed when we’re slow to mercy, but quick to anger. Like I prayed, “Lord, we’re needy—change our hearts to be like Yours. Help us not give up on each other.” Shame is real; it’s God’s megaphone to show our sin and our need. The runaway’s nakedness mirrors it. Shame is raw, and humbling. But it’s not the end of the story. Jesus’ love towers over our failures. O how many of you know, self-condemnation and Satan’s lies whisper, “You’re too far gone.” The devil is a liar! Jesus waits in Galilee with arms open wide and ready to extend His matchless grace.
The disciples got it and so did Peter. After weeping bitterly, he also met Jesus in Galilee (John 21), and the Lord restored him exhorting him to “Feed my sheep” (John 21:17). If that naked runaway was Mark, he too found redemption, authoring this Gospel and helping Paul in the ministry years later.
We may feel unworthy, but Cymbala’s right: “My love,” Jesus says, “is greater than your mess up.” Jesus doesn’t abandon us; He pursues us. So, where are you? Have you drifted? Are you full of shame? Turn to Jesus. He bore it all on the cross. Repent. He’s waiting to restart your story—right where you first met Him. Shame reveals our need; His grace reveals His heart. Run to Jesus!