The Servant and a New Covenant | Mark 14:10-25

Sermon Summary

A Betrayer's Bargain

Let’s begin today with a sobering look at a man who knew Jesus, walked with Jesus, listened to Jesus—and yet betrayed Him for a pocketful of silver. Mark 14 begins with the scheming of the chief priests and scribes. They weren’t interested in truth or justice. They weren’t even patient enough to wait for the end of the Passover festival. But their hatred of Jesus had fermented long enough. The opportunity to silence Him once and for all was too tempting.

And then enters Judas. We don’t know every detail about his heart, but Mark makes it chillingly simple: “Then Judas Iscariot… went unto the chief priests, to betray him unto them.” And they were glad. That line always strikes me—“they were glad.” The betrayal of the Son of God was a cause of joy for the enemies of God. It’s a terrifying contrast to the grief and worship we ought to feel.

Why did Judas do it? Was it greed? Disillusionment? Jealousy? Mark doesn’t say. And perhaps that’s intentional. Because the reason is not the point. The reality is—he chose to trade the Messiah for silver. The heart of betrayal is a heart that decides Jesus is no longer worth following.

It forces us to ask: Are there any areas in our lives where we’re making a similar bargain? Maybe we’re not walking into a temple courtyard with a secret plot, but are we trading faithfulness to Jesus for status? For comfort? For our sin? Judas’ life is a warning—a tragic one—that proximity to Jesus doesn’t guarantee loyalty to Jesus.

This passage invites us to examine ourselves. Is there anything in my heart, any desire or fear or compromise, that would gladly welcome thirty pieces of silver in exchange for walking away from the One who gave His life for mine?

A Passover Preparation

After this dark turn, the Gospel of Mark brings us to the light of preparation—the disciples getting ready for the Passover meal. Now, we know that Passover was no ordinary meal. It was a sacred annual celebration, a remembrance of God’s deliverance of Israel from Egypt. But on this particular Passover, something extraordinary was unfolding.

Jesus sends two of His disciples into the city with detailed instructions. A man carrying a jar of water (an unusual sight in that culture) would lead them to a room. The preparations are deliberate, intentional. This was not a random meal. This was divine appointment.

It’s worth noting that Jesus, knowing full well what lies ahead—Gethsemane, betrayal, arrest, the cross—still prioritizes this moment of fellowship. He longs to be with His disciples one final time. This tells us something profound about the heart of Christ. In the face of suffering, He draws near to His people. He invites them to the table.

What’s also remarkable is that in the midst of His sorrow, Jesus still serves. He prepares. He plans. He makes a way. Isn’t that just like Him? He’s not flustered by the darkness. He’s not rushed by the clock. He knows the plan of redemption, and He moves toward it with unshakable resolve.

And so, the disciples prepare the room. They obey His words. And that’s an application for us today. When the way ahead seems uncertain or painful, will we still walk in obedience? When He says, “Go into the city,” will we go? When He tells us to get the table ready, will we trust that He knows what’s coming, even when we don’t?

This Passover meal is a moment of quiet before the storm. A reminder that Jesus prepares a place for us—both in this life and the next. Even as He walks toward the cross, He makes room for us at the table.

A New Covenant Created

And now, we come to the most sacred and awe-inspiring moment in this passage. Jesus is seated with His disciples. The meal is underway. And He speaks words that would echo for centuries to come.

“He took bread, and blessed, and brake it, and gave to them, and said, Take, eat: this is my body.” Then He takes the cup and says, “This is my blood of the new covenant, which is shed for many.”

This is not just tradition. This is transformation. The old covenant, sealed with the blood of lambs, is now fulfilled and surpassed in the blood of the Lamb of God. Jesus is instituting a new covenant—a better covenant—one not based on external rituals but on internal renewal. Not on law alone, but on grace and truth.

And it’s personal. “This is my body...my blood.” Jesus is not distant from the pain of redemption. He enters into it fully. His body broken, His blood poured out—not just for the crowd, not just for the history books, but for us. For me. For you.

Notice too, the community of it all. He gave it to them. They shared it. The gospel is not just an individual rescue—it’s a community meal. We are saved into a family. We are invited into a covenant community.

And the phrase that grips me every time: “shed for many.” This was no accident. This was His plan. Jesus came to give His life as a ransom for many. And we are the many. We are the ones bought with a price. This cup is costly—and yet freely given.

Friends, this meal—this moment—changes everything. It reframes our understanding of God’s justice and mercy. It re-centers our faith not on our performance but on His sacrifice. It reminds us that we belong to Him, because He gave everything for us.

Reflection

As we step back from this passage, there are a few invitations I want to lay before us.

First, search your heart. Ask yourself: Is there any “Judas bargain” in my life—any area where I’m trading Christ for something that will not last? Don’t rush past this. Let the Spirit reveal what needs to be surrendered.

Second, see the beauty of Jesus’ preparation. He’s never flustered. Never late. He is sovereign even in the darkest hour. Maybe you’re in a season of uncertainty right now. Remember, He’s already in the city, already preparing a place, already making a way.

Third, treasure the new covenant. Don’t let the Lord’s Supper become routine. Let it stir your soul again. His body broken. His blood poured out. For you. For us. This is grace.

And lastly, ask yourself: Am I living in light of this covenant? Am I walking in community? Am I offering my life in gratitude, in faithfulness, in worship?

May we, like the disciples who shared that meal, go forward not with perfect understanding, but with deepening trust. Because Christ has given us everything. And He’s worth everything in return.