"O Jerusalem, Jerusalem… how often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, but you were not willing."
— Matthew 23:37
There’s a sentence that sounds gentle—but slices deep. It’s not barked in judgment. It’s whispered in grief. It’s the voice of Jesus, lamenting over a city, a people, a mindset.
Jerusalem was blind to the very mercy it needed most. And if we’re honest… so are we.
Not just in our personal lives, but in our businesses, our leadership, our relationships, and our vision. We want breakthrough. We want clarity. We want peace. But often—we resist the embrace that brings it.
Let’s talk about it.
Jerusalem had a history. God had sent prophet after prophet—truth-tellers, course-correctors, mouthpieces of mercy. But they were stoned. Rejected. Silenced.
Why? Because truth can be inconvenient. Mercy can feel foreign. Love like that—relentless, unearned, protective—can be… uncomfortable.
Now let’s zoom out.
In life and in business, how often do we turn away from what’s good because it feels too good?
We reject the things that are trying to gather us. We "stone the prophet" when the feedback hits too close. We back away from grace because it confronts our need.
Just like Jerusalem.
Here’s the tension: in business, we’re told to hustle, prove, compete, outperform.
Mercy? Feels like weakness.
But Jesus isn’t operating by Forbes metrics. He says, “I long to gather you.” That’s nurture language. Protective leadership. Servant-hearted strategy.
If you’re leading a team, building a company, launching a vision—the most disruptive thing you can do is lead like that mother hen.
You can be bold and kind. You can chase goals and care for people. You can build a bottom line and be a builder of souls.
In fact, if you don’t—you’ll succeed in business and lose in life.
Let’s get real for a moment.
Sometimes, the reason we push away goodness—whether in a friendship, opportunity, or moment of rest—is because we don’t believe we deserve it.
Imposter syndrome isn’t just about job titles. It creeps into our souls.
We think: “Surely that kind of mercy, grace, peace… can’t be for me.”
But Jesus isn’t confused about who He’s inviting in.
He sees the cracks in your voice, the exhaustion behind your eyes, the questions behind your drive—and He still says: “Come under My wings.”
In business terms? “I’m your covering. Your strategist. Your safe place.”
In life terms? “I’m not here to compete with your ambition—I’m here to redeem it.”
This verse is a blueprint for:
Here’s the paradox: we’re all chasing growth while avoiding the very covering that makes growth sustainable. But what if the best way to scale isn’t to push harder… But to be willing?
Willing to:
Today, don’t just read. Respond.
Take a walk. Pause your to-do list. Speak this prayer out loud: “God, gather me. I’ve been running hard, and I’m worn thin. Help me believe Your mercy is real for me—not just in theory, but in practice. Cover my work. Cover my heart. And teach me to lead like You—open-armed, nurturing, and grounded in grace.”
You don’t earn it. You don’t outgrow it. You don’t have to be perfect to receive it.
You just have to be willing. And in being willing, you’ll become a leader, builder, and human being that carries a legacy far bigger than your business card.
Let Jesus gather you.
Because in the end, gathered people gather others. And that’s where real impact begins.
Father, thank You for being the kind of God who longs to gather, not just command.
Forgive me for the times I’ve resisted Your mercy, pushed through in my own strength, or led from fear instead of love.
Teach me to pause and rest under Your covering.
Let my life and leadership be marked by grace, not just grit. Make me willing—willing to receive, to lead with compassion, and to trust that Your way is better.
In Jesus’ name, Amen.