Jesus jumped.

Jesus followed the customs of Israel for 30 years. Then He jumped out and began His ministry as the Father had asked Him to. We have no record of where He taught and what He did for a living. Only that Joseph, his dad, was a carpenter, a stone mason. We assume Jesus did some of what His father did. Then there was that fateful day not long after his baptism and the forty days in the wilderness. It was His custom to go the synagogue on the Sabbath. In Nazareth, where He grew up, Jesus read from Isaiah 61. When did He know this was about Him? That it was He who would set captives free? Luke records the moment He said it out loud: “And the scroll of the prophet Isaiah was given to him. He unrolled the scroll and found the place where it was written, ‘The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim liberty to the captives and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty those who are oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.’ And he rolled up the scroll and gave it back to the attendant and sat down. And the eyes of all in the synagogue were fixed on him. And he began to say to them, “Today this Scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing” (Luke 4:17-21).

This was a ‘drop the mic’, or scroll, moment.

He had followed God. He had followed what was written, even to this point, when He said, “This scripture is fulfilled.” However, at that moment, all hell broke loose. Literally. Game on. A few verses later, “All in the synagogue were filled with wrath. And they rose up and drove him out of the town and brought him to the brow of the hill on which their town was built, so that they could throw him down the cliff. But passing through their midst, he went away” (Luke 4:28-30).

Jesus simply moved on. 

From that moment on, He continued to do what His Father asked, as He had in the past. But He had painted a target much bigger on Himself. It is one thing to know you are God; it is a whole other thing so say it out loud!   From Fish Prison p. 30.