By What Authority?

 

Jesus' confrontations with religious leadership then and now

They came to Him. Again.

This time, it wasn’t a crowd of needy hands or hopeful eyes. It was the ones with clean robes and dirtier motives. The ones who held scrolls in one hand and stones in the other. The archiereis and presbyteroi—the chief priests and elders—came while He was teaching in the Temple, mid-lesson, and they didn’t even say, “Excuse us.” No. They interrupted Truth Himself with a question that dripped with challenge:

“By what authority are You doing these things? And who gave You this authority?”

It’s right there in Matthew 21:23. That word authority is the Greek exousia (bold delegated power, privilege, freedom of choice). It wasn’t just “Who do You think You are?” It was, “Who told You You could do this?” They were demanding Jesus present His credentials, His ordination papers, His seminary degree—something that proved He’d gone through their proper channels.

But here’s the thing: He was the Channel. The living, breathing, walking conduit of Heaven to Earth. And they couldn’t see it.

Jesus answered them, not with a defense, but with a question of His own. A holy curveball. He asked about John the Baptist.

“Was his baptism from heaven, or from men?”

They were stuck. If they said “from heaven,” Jesus would ask why they didn’t believe him. If they said “from men,” the crowd would riot, because everyone knew John was a prophet. So they copped out: “We don’t know.”

To which Jesus responded, “Then neither will I tell you by what authority I do these things.”

Now pause.

Because this moment—this confrontation—is far more than a clever dodge. It is a mirror. And in that mirror, you can see the religious leadership of then standing shoulder to shoulder with much of the religious leadership of now.

Both so often asking the wrong question.

Not “Is this of God?” but “Is this under our control?”

Jesus didn’t need human endorsement to preach, heal, cast out demons, or forgive sin. He was the endorsement. Heaven had spoken at His baptism, remember? “This is My beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.” The voice of the Patēr (Father, Abba, the origin, the nourisher, the protector) had thundered out over the Jordan River, not with a whisper of approval, but a public declaration of authority.

So the leaders came not to find truth—but to defend territory.

This isn’t new. This spirit goes back to the Garden. When the serpent challenged Eve with “Did God really say?” it was the beginning of mankind deciding whose authority to follow—God’s, or someone else’s. And by the time of Jesus, that serpent had a whole Sanhedrin of robes to wear.

Jesus walked and taught with exousia, not borrowed, not inherited from men, but poured out from above. And what did He use it for? Not to set up a new religious order, but to tear down the walls between God and man. His authority healed lepers, forgave prostitutes, and rebuked storms. It didn't build palaces—it overturned tables.

See, real exousia looks like servanthood, not superiority.

When the centurion came in Matthew 8 and said, “I am a man under authority, and I say to one, ‘Go,’ and he goes...” he was saying something powerful. He recognized that Jesus was under authority—the Father’s. That’s why his faith amazed the Lord. That Roman soldier understood something most religious leaders never did:

Authority isn’t about control. It’s about alignment.

Jesus operated in perfect alignment with the Father. “I do nothing of Myself,” He said, “but only what I see the Father do.” The Greek word for “do” there is poieō—to make, produce, perform, execute. He wasn’t freelancing. He was reflecting the will of the invisible God.

Fast-forward 2,000 years.

The robes have changed. The scrolls have been replaced by commentaries and degrees. The Temple is now a platform. But the question still echoes: “By what authority are You doing these things?”

Today it sounds like:
“Where did you go to seminary?”
“Who ordained you?”
“Which denomination are you with?”
“Is this woman even allowed to preach?”

And again, Jesus stands in the center of the Temple—your temple, your heart—and answers not with a certificate, but with the witness of the Spirit.

If the blind see, if the broken are made whole, if demons flee and the Word is rightly divided… why are we still asking about credentials?

What kind of spirit keeps asking that question?

Jesus called it out in Matthew 23. He called them hypokritēs—actors on a stage. Not shepherds, but performers. Not door-openers, but key-hoarders. He said, “You shut up the kingdom of heaven against men: for you neither go in yourselves, neither suffer (allow) you them that are entering to go in.”

That’s the heart of religious control. It builds systems that protect power and prevent surrender. But the Kingdom is not a system. It is a basileia—a reign, a rule, a sovereign movement of the King Himself. And where the King is, there is liberty.

No wonder they hated Him.

He forgave sins without asking the Pharisees. He healed on the Sabbath without checking the rulebook. He raised Lazarus without asking permission from the Sanhedrin. He upset every balance of power they’d spent generations building.

So they plotted to kill Him.

Because the ultimate question of authority always leads to one final answer: Either crown Him or crucify Him. There is no in-between.

What about us?

When the Spirit moves in someone who doesn’t look the part, sound the part, or hold a title, do we rejoice? Or do we ask, “Who told you you could do that?” When a young girl has dreams and starts prophesying, when an ex-drug addict starts street-preaching, when the homeless man is quoting Isaiah with fire in his eyes—do we say, “From heaven, or from men?”

Because if it is from heaven, we must humble ourselves and listen. If it’s from men, we can brush it off. But here’s the truth: You’ll know them not by their degrees, but by their fruit.

Jesus gave that very test: “A good tree cannot bear bad fruit.” The word for fruit—karpos—means that which is produced by inward power. That’s authority. Not loudness, not style, not popularity—but what is birthed from the Spirit within.

And yes, Jesus still confronts religious authority today. In the pews. On the stages. In our hearts.

Every time we resist a move of God because it’s not “how we do things,” we are no different than the men who interrupted His teaching that day.

Every time we prioritize protocol over presence, we miss Him.

And maybe worst of all, every time we demand a person prove their calling before we believe their anointing, we set ourselves up as gatekeepers of something we don’t own.

He never asked permission. Because He didn’t need to. The heavens had already given it.

And if we are in Him, then so have we.

Jesus said, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to Me. Therefore, go...”

Go.

You don’t need a title to be obedient. You need a yes in your spirit.

Go preach. Go teach. Go love the broken and lay hands on the sick. Go open blind eyes and read the Word like it’s still alive—because it is.

And the next time someone looks at you sideways and asks, “By what authority are you doing these things?”...

Smile.

And answer just as He did.

Or better yet, let your fruit answer for you.

 

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