Post last updated on January 21, 2024
Image credit: Daniel Bonnell, bonnellart.com
Scripture provides us the opportunity to briefly consider the relation of two words that sometimes find close proximity in its pages: authority and power. These words so complement one another that they are sometimes made to serve as synonyms; and yet, they are distinct. This, of course, stands true in a dictionary, but their necessary difference is also confirmed in a place like Luke 20:20, where the chief priests look to deliver Jesus over to both the power and authority of the Roman governor. There, the two words stands stand in a mutual association with regal rule; in what, then, stands their difference?
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In considering this one may easily imagine a diplomat visiting a foreign capital and its king. The diplomat is invested with the full status conferred upon him when his own king first sent him on his errand. In this scenario, authority and power seem almost identical in their conception; but that sense quickly vanishes if a new situation arises where the ambassador cannot finally accomplish his original errand. In that case, he still possesses the same authority conferred upon him by his king, and he even retains a will to obtain his objective; nevertheless, he does not possess sufficient power—the simple capacity to achieve his aim. Alternatives are then considered: Alliances are formed, compromise commences. Such are the kingdoms of this world.
In considering this one may easily imagine a diplomat visiting a foreign capital and its king. The diplomat is invested with the full status conferred upon him when his own king first sent him on his errand. In this scenario, authority and power seem almost identical in their conception; but that sense quickly vanishes if a new situation arises where the ambassador cannot finally accomplish his original errand. In that case, he still possesses the same authority conferred upon him by his king, and he even retains a will to obtain his objective; nevertheless, he does not possess sufficient power—the simple capacity to achieve his aim. Alternatives are then considered: Alliances are formed, compromise commences. Such are the kingdoms of this world.
And yet, what may happen if an ambassador simultaneously bears both the weight and will of an empire—in the modern vernacular, a superpower? In this case, authority and power are more closely united in the ambassador’s successful effort; but then, what may be the case should such a king of such a kingdom not send an ambassador at all, but instead seek terms in his own name and according to his own powers? He then boldly visits the foreign capital himself and negotiates the terms, accomplishing his will. In that case, there are no entangling alliances to threaten sovereignty. Nor must the spoils of victory—glory and riches—be divided among diplomats and bureaucrats. To a single victor would go the many spoils.
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This is, in a sense, what we see in the incarnation of Jesus Christ. The Lord himself enters into a place where his might and rule are disputed. He eventually begins to teach the people; he also heals the sick—often dispensing with the devils that are the occasional cause of various diseases. All who see him, recognize his power; but what is most fascinating and troubling to them is the evidence that Jesus represents another authority.
The first chapter of Mark’s gospel gets to this very point. In the synagogues, Jesus’ manner of teaching was as surprising as some of its content. He refused to cite the rabbinical authorities, and his audience understood what this meant. His silence on that point was deafening: Jesus spoke with authority, and not as the scribes (Mark 1:22). He possessed this authority in himself by refusing to rely upon other lesser authorities. When Mark thereafter records how that Jesus removed an unclean spirit from a man in their synagogue, the conclusion was the same. This was some kind of new doctrine that displayed a different kind of power and authority; Jesus was, therefore, a different authority (Mark 1:27). This was a surprising situation, indeed: Here was a man among them who possessed and employed supernatural powers by his own authority. Apparently, the kingdom of God was at hand (Mark 1:15).
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It is when we recognize how that the authority and power of God are united in the Son of God that we better consider the character of his kingdom. It was altogether new in its character, but nevertheless derived and founded by the eternal Lord. When we further see that Mark’s gospel not only places before the reader the prospect of authority and power, but attaches those elements to Jesus’ words and deeds—teaching and healing, we further perceive that God was, in Christ, creating something new. After all, the first creation was founded when God formed the heaven and earth with words (word and deed); and with the appearance of the Incarnate Word, a new creation is begun (Colossians 1:12-17; 2 Corinthians 5:17).
This conception is altogether squared when we remember it was made to depend upon Jesus’ own death and resurrection—and then crowned with his ascension. The Lord Jesus was not only resurrected to life, but to reign. Had the princes of this world understood this, they would not have crucified the Lord of glory (1 Corinthians 2:8). This is what Paul writes and describes to the Corinthian believers. The Lord obtained his errand by dictating the most improbable of terms and conditions. The kings of this earth fight and kill to maintain sovereignty—such is the nature of this present world. The Lord Jesus Christ, however, endured death before rising from the dead. He employed his own death for victory. Accordingly, Jesus is now the Lord of glory. That said, in 1 Corinthians 2:7, we read how Paul introduces this fact with its unexpected consequence: The Lord also accomplished this for the believer’s glory. Apparently, some spoils are dispersed upon the principle of grace. Such is the kingdom of God.
