And I Have A Question For You
Preached by Benjamin Vrbicek
March 30, 2014
If you have ever had a confrontation with another person, which I know we all have had, then you know how difficult it can be to reengage those same people—if you have a blowup a work, the next staff meeting can be tense, or if over a holiday meal with a relative, the next family meal can be tense. Jesus has just had a difficult conversation with the religious leaders, to put it mildly—I mean, he was holding a whip, right? I’d call that a confrontation—and in our passage this morning, they meet again. What will they say? How will they respond?
Mark 11:27-33
27 And they came again to Jerusalem. And as he was walking in the temple, the chief priests and the scribes and the elders came to him, 28 and they said to him, “By what authority are you doing these things, or who gave you this authority to do them?” 29 Jesus said to them, “I will ask you one question; answer me, and I will tell you by what authority I do these things. 30 Was the baptism of John from heaven or from man? Answer me.” 31 And they discussed it with one another, saying, “If we say, ‘From heaven,’ he will say, ‘Why then did you not believe him?’ 32 But shall we say, ‘From man’?”—they were afraid of the people, for they all held that John really was a prophet. 33 So they answered Jesus, “We do not know.” And Jesus said to them, “Neither will I tell you by what authority I do these things.”
Once upon a time, there was a man who lived close to an elementary school. He was a good man. He had worked a good career, and for years on his way to work, he had passed the school and seen the children. Now he was retried and he wanted to help.
So he became the crossing guard, volunteering his time. And he was a good crossing guard. He loved his job. He kept the children safe. He brought smiles to the drivers of cars as they passed by. He made parents feel at ease.
Often he would get down on one knee to look in the eyes of each child as they arrived. “Good morning, Jonny,” he would say. Or, “That’s a lovely dress this morning, Sarah.”
He heard that once there had been some crossing guards that had not taken their authority seriously and had to be removed from their post. He didn’t want that to happen to him.
And so time went on: parents felt good, children were safe.
But somewhere along the way, things went wrong. The crossing guard started to notice the children less. O, he still loved to put on his bright orange, reflective sash. That he loved. And he loved to carry his huge sign with huge letters spelling SLOW. In fact, he began to leave earlier and earlier in the morning, earlier than he actually had to leave, just so he could walk through the neighborhood carrying his sign and sash with him for all to behold his authority.
And the cars, well, they never seemed to be going slow enough anymore, or to respect his authority adequately. “Drivers these days,” he would sneer under his breath. And the children, they became afraid of him. They hurried through the crosswalk; no more chitchat. And parents started to notice. In fact, some moms began to park around back and walk through a different door just to avoid this crossing guard. The administration of the school wasn't sure what to do. Over time, they knew they had to ask him to leave, ask him to step down.
You know what the crossing guard said? “You don’t know the first thing about keeping people safe. Without me, this place would be a disaster; children hit by cars and whatnot, like bugs on a windshield I tell you.”
And so, the crossing guard kept coming back every morning, causing a disturbance, waving his sign around. “I’m the official authority around these parts,” he told people, whether wanted to hear it or not.
And then one day, while he was wearing his little sash, holding his sign, a car pulled up that he didn't really recognize. But the crowd did. It when the chief of police in his squad car, with a badge, and a gun and declaring, “I’ll take it from here, son.”
The crossing guard was so drunk with power that he asked, “Well, well… who says you can do things here? Who gave you this right? I was put in authority here? I have a reflective sash and a sign and cars obey ME.”
It didn’t end well for this crossing guard. He meant well, I’m sure, but something went wrong, didn't it. What was it that went wrong?
This passage, and my little parable, talks about what went wrong in Jesus’ day and in our own. In fact, this passage has everything to do with everything. This passage has to do with your marriage, your singleness, your finances, your leisure, your health, your ministry and service at church and at home and in the workplace. Everything to do with everything.
That might feel like an overstatement, but it’s not. When I say this passage has “everything to do with everything,” that is not ‘preacher-man hype.’ This passage does have everything to do with everything, because it’s talking about the authority of Jesus Christ, and when we talk about the authority of Jesus Christ, we are talking about something without boundaries, something that doesn't starts here and end there. We are talking about something boundless.
But what went wrong with the church leaders in this passage, and what can go wrong with us, is that too often we arrogantly judge the authority of Jesus, rather than gladly letting it judge us. But, what Jesus wants—what he longs for, what he died for—is for his authority to be known deeply and loved supremely—his authority: known deeply and loved supremely.
Where do I see this in the passage? That’s the question.
To organize our thoughts, I want to ask three questions: What was going on? What went wrong? What was on offer?
1. What was going on?
Let’s take up this first question. What was going on? The question of flow of thought and logic and observation. What were they saying and why?
The passage starts with this statement in v. 27: “And they came again to Jerusalem. And as he was walking in the temple…” Everything that happens between Mark 11 to the end of the book happens in just over one week, except perhaps a few verses at the very end. Therefore, time is lengthened and intensity is heightened. Jesus has just been to the temple, perhaps the day before, to clear it, and now he’s back. And the religious leaders have questions for him.
“The chief priests and the scribes and the elders came to him, and they said to him, “By what authority are you doing these things, or who gave you this authority to do them?”
When it says, “these things,” certainly in view was the recent clearing of the temple, but also the triumphal entry into Jerusalem as well, where people shouted “Hosanna, hosanna” (“Save, we pray”) and treated him like a king, which Jesus received.
But when the religious leaders say “these things,” they also have in view the rest of his ministry as well: the healings, the display power over evil. All of it. And now they want to know who made him in charge.
“Who died and made this guy king? We are the crossing guards around here. Didn't you see my bright, reflective sash, Jesus? Jesus, show me your credentials. Show us your badge. Let me see your resume. Where did you go to school? Was it a graduate degree or an undergraduate?”
They are like the TSA people at airports. “Identification and boarding pass, please.”
I make light of their question, but actually, it’s a good question, a necessary question. The religious leaders, like those working for TSA, have a rightful place.
We’ll get into what was wrong later, but Jesus smells something amiss. Look at v. 29ff,
Jesus said to them, “I will ask you one question; answer me, and I will tell you by what authority I do these things. Was the baptism of John from heaven or from man? Answer me.”
What are they going to do? They want to trap Jesus, but he seems to be reversing it on them. It seems like he won’t be backed into a corner. John the Baptist was killed a year or two before this, perhaps less, and Jesus asks what they thought of his ministry—was it godly, or was it of mere human origins (or something worse)?
So the passage says they discussed it with one another. And this particular word has already been used six times in Mark (2:6, 8; 7:21; 8:16, 17; 9:33), always in the context of “discussing” to evade the real point. You can tell the same is true here. Look at vv. 31-32,
And they discussed it with one another, saying, “If we say, ‘From heaven,’ he will say, ‘Why then did you not believe him?’ But shall we say, ‘From man’?”—they were afraid of the people, for they all held that John really was a prophet.
They are stuck. And after their ‘timeout’ to discuss how to win the game, they gave up. V. 33,
So they answered Jesus, “We do not know.” And Jesus said to them, “Neither will I tell you by what authority I do these things.”
So, the first question was: what was going on? Answer: the leaders challenged Jesus, and he challenged them.
2. What went wrong?
The next question for us is, what went wrong? This is question of autopsy. Something has died and Jesus smells it, and so together let’s figure out what happened.
I've already said the religious leaders asked a good question. They wanted to know how and why Jesus got his authority. That’s a good question. You should be asking that question. Where does Jesus get off doing the things he does? You can’t just let people call you a king and clear out the temple like you own the place… unless he was a king, the king, and unless he did own the place and have authority over it.
We are asking the question what went wrong. Here’s what went wrong: their taste buds for true authority died when they drank the poison of power and praise. Again, their taste buds for true authority died when they drank the poison of power and praise.
They did not want to know the authority of Jesus deeply or to love it supremely. Arrogantly, they judged the authority of Jesus, rather than gladly letting it judge them. The chief of police rolled up in a squad car, with a gun and a badge, and they couldn't see it—they couldn't taste it. They were drunk with power.
Notice what happens in their discussion. Look closely again in vv. 31-32 asking the question, What’s missing here?
And they discussed it with one another, saying, “If we say, ‘From heaven,’ he will say, ‘Why then did you not believe him?’ But shall we say, ‘From man’?”—they were afraid of the people, for they all held that John really was a prophet.
What’s missing here? They have a total disregard of the question of what is true. They are not even asking the question. They are not on a quest for truth, despite the fact that they ask a question that looks like they are on a quest for truth. But looking like you are on a quest to know and love true authority and actually being on the quest might not the same thing. What they were on was a quest for good PR. They wanted to look good, not know Goodness, not love Goodness.
The passage says “they were afraid of the people,” and what that means is that were afraid of losing favor, losing praise from the crowd. To them, God was small and marginal and someone who could be neglected; but the crowds and the people, O, they were something to revere and love and labor for.
And because they loved the crowd, they were also cowards. Status was more important than living out the implications of truth.
It would have been better for them to have said back to Jesus, “We don’t think you came from God, nor John the Baptist,” but instead, they say, “We don’t know.”
What don’t they know? What they don’t know is how to respond in a way that won’t make them look bad, so they chose the way that will make them look the least bad.
How free and safe and loved might they have been if they had just embraced true authority?
And the danger is ours as well. Your taste buds will malfunction, when you love to drink power and praise. Don’t let God become small and marginal and someone who can be neglected; don’t let the praise of man become something to revere and love and labor for. Don’t do that. It’s not what you were made for. You were not made to call the shots. You were not made to have supreme authority over your finances, supreme authority over you free time, supreme authority over your particular little slice of ministry. “I was put in charge of this; you can’t change it.”
To be very personal, as someone who has recently transitioned from one church to another, let me tell you how this has challenges me. There is within all of us, and I’m no exception, this subtle, sneaky desire, that when we leave somewhere, if “they” (wherever “they” are) struggle after we’re gone, then we know we were needed and valued. You know what I mean. You leave a job, and you think, Boy, gonna be a hole to fill when I’m gone. Maybe someone, or several people, pull you aside to tell you just that, and it tastes good.
Last week, I've received a little feedback about the process of replacing me at the church I left. And there was this huge part of me that was like, Yes! They are getting someone great; I thought there were a few people that would do it great, and maybe they picked one. And there was this other part of me that thought, What if he does the job better than me? How will that make me look?
I’m much more like these religious leaders than I would hope.
Anytime we take a ministry and make is “ours” we have to be careful. Is he going to still my limelight? Is the church down the road going to take our “good people”? These are not the right questions.
One thing I've appreciated, among the many things since being here these last three weeks, a thing that I’d like to call attention to publically, has to do with Jason. Most of the time I assume that I’ll end up in Jason’s sermon as an example of how not to do something, and he’ll end up that way in mine. That’s not what I want to do now. And I asked his permission to share this. I don’t know if you were watching closely the church website last week, most of you were probably not. But a week and a half ago, Jason was listed as Sr. Pastor. Now it says simply “Teaching Pastor.” And then there is this other guy who also has the title “Teaching Pastor” who is also an elder, and will also share the teaching and preaching role with him.
That’s not easy to swallow. That takes a lot of humility, and a large and deep knowing and loving of the authority of Jesus Christ over his church. You have this, and I appreciate it, Jason. Thank you.
We were not made to judge the authority of Jesus, but rather to gladly let it judge us. What we were made for, what Jesus longs for, what he died for, is for his authority, not ours, to be known deeply and loved supremely. When we do that, we thrive.
But, I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s shift to the final point, the final section.
3. What was (and is) on offer?
The last question we are looking at is this: what was on offer? This is the question of invitation. What was Jesus inviting these disciples too? What was he offering to them?
There is of course a harsh reality witnessed in this passage, and that is that Jesus does NOT open himself up (reveal, disclose, answer questions) to those that don’t want him. They trade the knowledge of God for the praise of people. And he says, “Neither will I answer you.” So I acknowledge this dynamic is at work, a harsh dynamic.
But what might this passage also be saying to those of us, who by the grace of God, do have functioning, healthy taste buds? What might Jesus be offering to those that want his authority to be known deeply and loved supremely?
What must be true from the words of Jesus in this passage and the surrounding context of his life and death and resurrection is that Jesus wants to reveal himself to people.
Look with me again at v. 29.
Jesus said to them, “I will ask you one question; answer me, and I will tell you by what authority I do these things…
Now he did not tell them because they did not answer him. But I think he meant his promise. “Answer me, and I will tell you by what authority I do these things.” Jesus did want his authority to be loved and known.
I think we could even insert a few words into the passage to give it more clarity. I know that’s not really the best way to say it—inserting words into the passage. I know that’s a no-no.
But I think when Jesus says, “Answer me, and I will tell you by what authority I do these things” it would not be a stretch, and in fact probably an understatement, to insert in brackets the words “be happy,” so that Jesus’ words could be read: “Answer me and I would [be happy] to answer you.”
While the []’d words may not be in the text, is this not the message of the cross, the message of incarnation, the message of the gospel?
What do I mean? I mean this: Why did he come, if not for the purpose but to reveal himself? Why did he come, if not but to make his authority known deeply? And not simply to be known, but also to be loved supremely.
Even in the near context of this passage, if you look into Ch. 12, which Jason will be preaching on next week, we see a parable about a land owner and his land and the people that worked the land. I don’t want to steal the thunder of the passage, and Jason and I talked about it this week, but one of the subthemes of the passage is that the land owner keeps sending servant, after servant, after servant to make his authority known to the tenants. And when they don’t listen, he so longs for his authority to be known, that he sends his own son.
The question we were asking was this: “What was on offer”? And the answer is more of Jesus… that is, if they would have just been humble and said, “We don’t know; we don’t know because we love praise and authority and our hearts are full of doubt. Please help us, Jesus. Please make us whole again.”
What should the crossing guard have done when the police officer pulled up? He should have said, “I’m sorry officer, I guess I let it get to me and I repent. Could you restore me?”
But forget the crossing guard, and even the religious leaders of the passage for a moment, the question is not what should they have done, but should you and I do? The question is not merely what was on offer by Jesus to them, but what is on offer by Jesus to us?
God will always take sincere, humble repentance. And he will take your and mine as well.
And so I’ll close by asking you the question that the leaders asked Jesus: the authority of Jesus, is it from man, or God? What do you say?
If you think it is from man, will then I suppose we can dismiss Jesus as a decent guy who had some nice things to say and we can take him or leave him and certainly not get too worked up if his authority makes claims upon us that we don’t like. Just shrug it off; go on with life.
But that’s not where I want you to be. Because it’s wrong.
Jesus said, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me” (Matthew 28:18). Who talks like that? And he backed this up, over and over again. Calming storms. Feeding the multitudes. Pushing back the powers of evil. Healing the unhealable. Subduing rebel hearts by the beauty of his grace. Taking his life up again.
So, if his authority is from God – in fact, if he is God – the question is this: will you bend your life to know his authority deeply and love his authority supremely? Will we live a life of ongoing repentance, asking God to make us whole again? Will you do whatever we can to cultivate a love for and a submission to his authority?
How free and safe and loved might we feel if we knew his authority deeply and loved it supremely? That’s what he wants from you, so much so that he came, died on your behalf, and rose again to make you his kids.
