What Is Jesus Worth to You? Three Responses That Reveal Everything

Meta Description: On "Spy Wednesday" of Holy Week, three people responded to Jesus in radically different ways. Which one looks most like you? A reflection from Mark 14.

In 1997, a man named David Gant walked into a vault in Charlotte, North Carolina — a vault he had access to every single day — and walked out with nearly $17 million. No explosions. No dramatic break-in. Just a man who had the keys, the codes, and the trust of everyone around him.

Some of the greatest thefts in history don't happen because someone breaks in from the outside. They happen because someone on the inside opens the door.

I've been thinking about that story all week — because on the Wednesday of Holy Week, something very similar is about to unfold. And the question it raises is one I think we all need to sit with: What is Jesus actually worth to you?

The Day Everything Changed Behind Closed Doors

We call this day "Silent Wednesday" because Scripture doesn't record much public activity. But silence doesn't mean nothing is happening. This Wednesday also carries another name — Spy Wednesday — because behind closed doors, everything pivots. The entire trajectory of Holy Week shifts based on what happens in three very different rooms.

In Mark 14, we get a glimpse into all three.

Scene One: The Room Where Jesus Became an Obstacle

Somewhere in Jerusalem, the chief priests and scribes are gathered before the temple gates even open. No crowds. No debates. Just a room full of powerful men who have decided that Jesus has to go.

Mark 14:1 tells us: "It was now two days before the Passover and the Feast of Unleavened Bread. And the chief priests and the scribes were seeking how to arrest him by stealth and kill him."

For these leaders, Jesus wasn't a dramatic theological rejection — He was simply an obstacle. He was threatening their system, their livelihood, their control. So they did what people do when something threatens their world: they looked for a way to make the problem disappear.

Here's the honest question that scene raises for me: Have you ever done the same thing?

Maybe you haven't plotted anything dramatic. But have you ever found yourself in a season where following Jesus was getting a little expensive — where His authority was starting to cost more than you were willing to pay — and the quiet temptation was just to dial things back a little? To arrange your life so that His presence was a little less disruptive?

The chief priests saw Jesus as worth eliminating. It's a posture that's easier to slip into than we'd like to admit.

Scene Two: The Room Where Jesus Was Worth Everything

Just a few miles away in Bethany, a very different scene is unfolding. Jesus is reclining at a table in the home of Simon the leper when a woman enters the room with an alabaster flask filled with pure nard — an imported perfume from the Himalayas worth nearly 300 denarii, almost a full year's wages.

And she breaks it open. All of it. No going back.

"She has done something beautiful," Jesus says in Mark 14:6. "She has done what she could. She has anointed my body beforehand for burial. And truly I say to you, wherever the gospel is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in memory of her." (Mark 14:6, 8–9)

The disciples saw waste. Jesus saw worship.

When Jesus redirects them, He quotes from Deuteronomy 15 — a passage about ongoing, open-handed generosity toward the poor. He's not dismissing care for the vulnerable. He's revealing its source. Generosity in the Kingdom of God doesn't start with obligation — it starts with devotion. When Jesus is your greatest treasure, open hands come naturally.

This is exactly why we talk about radical generosity as one of our core values as a church. Not to fund a budget. Not to accomplish a program. But because when Jesus is our greatest treasure, everything else begins to loosen its grip on our hearts.

The woman gave her greatest treasure to the person she treasured most. That's what worship looks like.

Scene Three: The Room Where Jesus Got a Price Tag

And then there's Judas.

"Then Judas Iscariot, who was one of the twelve, went to the chief priests in order to betray him to them. When they heard it, they were glad and promised to give him money." (Mark 14:10–11)

One of the twelve. That's the detail Mark wants us to feel. Not a stranger. Not someone watching from a distance. Someone who had been with Jesus for nearly three years. Someone who had watched the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, and Lazarus walk out of a tomb.

Judas didn't wake up one morning and decide to betray Jesus. It was a slow drift — and I think it followed a predictable path:

• Misplaced devotion led to drifting
• Drifting, left unaddressed, became disappointment
• Disappointment, left unconfessed, became disillusionment
• And disillusionment, left uncorrected, became desertion

Somewhere along the way, Judas stopped asking "Who is Jesus?" and started asking "What can Jesus do for me?" And the moment that question becomes our primary motivation, Jesus becomes negotiable.

Matthew 26:15 records the moment plainly: "What will you give me if I deliver him over to you?" And they paid him thirty pieces of silver.

Thirty pieces of silver. Not an arbitrary number. In Exodus 21, that was the compensation owed when an ox gored a slave to death — the value assigned to a dead slave. And in Zechariah 11, God looks at that same price and says with biting irony: "What a magnificent price they have valued me at."

That's what Jesus was worth to Judas.

Which Room Are You In?

Three people. Three valuations of Jesus.

• To the chief priests, He was worth eliminating.
• To the woman, He was worth everything.
• To Judas, He was worth exactly thirty pieces of silver.

Here's what gets me: I want to say I'm like the woman. But if I'm being honest, there are far more days when I'm closer to Judas than I am to her. Days when Jesus is more of a tool than a treasure. Days when my devotion to Him is quietly conditional — as long as you're blessing me, as long as you're giving me what I want, I'll stay close.

The good news of Holy Week is that Jesus knew exactly what Wednesday held — and He walked into it anyway. He knew the price Judas would set. He knew the plans being made in that room across town. And He went to the cross anyway, because you were worth everything to Him.

The question is simply: what is He worth to you?

Key Takeaways This Week

1. Jesus always requires a response. Indifference is still a response.
2. Generosity flows from worship, not obligation. When Jesus is our treasure, open hands follow.
3. Drift doesn't announce itself. Pay attention to the slow movement of your heart.
4. When Jesus becomes a tool, He becomes negotiable. Guard against the "what can Jesus do for me?" posture.
5. He was worth everything to the Father — and He's worth everything to us.

Reflect & Respond

Take a few minutes this week to sit with this question: In which room do I spend most of my time?

If you're finding yourself drifting — if Jesus has quietly become more of an obstacle or a tool than a treasure — this is the week to turn that around. Holy Week is the perfect moment to come back to the table.

If you've never surrendered your life to Jesus — never said "You are my everything" the way that woman did — I'd love to talk with you. Reach out to us, or join us this Sunday as we continue through Holy Week together.

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Scripture references: Mark 14:1–11 | Deuteronomy 15 | Zechariah 11 | Exodus 21 | Matthew 26:15

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