What They Fear the Most

One day as Jesus was teaching the people in the temple courts and proclaiming the good news, the chief priests and the teachers of the law, together with the elders, came up to him.

“Tell us by what authority you are doing these things,” they said. “Who gave you this authority?”
Luke 20:1–2 (NIV)

Over the years, as Wendy and I scan current events in the morning—and as I continue my lifelong study of history—I’ve noticed patterns.

Kingdoms of this world—especially dictatorships, tyrannies, and tightly controlled religious systems—tend to operate the same way:

Power concentrated in the hands of a few
Control over nearly every aspect of life
Rules for the masses
Severe consequences for questioning authority

And beneath it all…

Fear.

The thing these systems fear most is the people.

Rebellion.
Uprising.
Revolution.

Jesus has arrived in Jerusalem. It is the final week of His earthly life.

This is a showdown.

God’s Son steps into the epicenter of power to confront the kingdoms of this world—

Human empire.
Human religion.
Human pride.

If you read this chapter closely, it’s dripping with the tension of a political thriller:

Corrupt system.
A lone truth-teller.
Traps. Spies. Hidden agendas.
The pressure building.

As the chapter opens, the chief priests, elders, and their legal experts approach Jesus.

This is a show of force.

These are the elites who run the Temple… the religion… the system.

And Jesus?

He’s a problem.

He speaks with authority—but not theirs.
He operates outside their control.
And the people love Him… a little too much.

That’s dangerous.

Because the thing these systems fear most… is the people.

So they ask the question that always protects power:

“By whose authority are you doing these things?”

They are the authority.

And in their world, authority is never questioned.

Over time, what began as something established by God has been twisted by sin and pride into just another human system—one clinging tightly to control.

And now Jesus stands in their midst… a threat they cannot control.

Jesus responds with brilliance.

He brings up John the Baptist.

Another maverick.
Another prophet the people loved.
Another voice who challenged their corruption.

So Jesus asks:

Was John’s authority from God… or from man?

If they say “from God”—they condemn themselves for rejecting him.

If they say “from man”—they risk the people’s anger.

They are trapped.

Rock? Meet Hard Place.

So they refuse to answer.
And Jesus, in turn, refuses to answer them directly.

Instead, He tells a story.

A vineyard owner (God).
Tenant farmers (the religious leaders).
Servants sent to collect what is due (the prophets).
Beaten. Rejected. Killed.
Finally, the owner sends his son.
They kill him too.
Because if the son is gone… they believe the vineyard will finally be theirs.

And just like that, Jesus names the reality standing right in front of them.

This isn’t just a disagreement.

It’s a collision between kingdoms.

The rest of the chapter unfolds more of the same:

Spies planted.
Traps laid.
Political factions taking their turn.
Loaded questions meant to entangle.

But beneath it all is an ancient root:

The pride of life.
The human desire to control.
To define truth.
To hold authority.
To be… God.

The same whisper from the Garden still echoes here.

And maybe more uncomfortably…

It still echoes now.
These kingdoms are still clashing if I have the eyes to see it.

In the quiet this morning, I sense the Holy Spirit whispering a simple reminder into my soul.

In a few minutes, Wendy and I will sit down together and scroll through the day’s headlines.

Wars and rumors of war.
Cultural tensions.
Political division.
Religious infighting.
Economic anxiety.
Voices shouting.
People grasping.
Systems straining to hold control.

If I look at the world through a worldly lens…

I will have worldly reactions.
I will think worldly thoughts.
I will feel anger, fear, anxiety.

And that’s perfectly natural—

if this world is all I see.

But if I look through the lens Jesus offers…

Everything changes.

I begin to recognize these systems for what they are.
Temporary. Fragile. Grasping for control.

And I remember who I am.

An ambassador of a different Kingdom.
Living in contested territory.
Trusting eternal promises over temporary fears.

Called—not to react—but to respond.

With love.
With clarity.
With courage.

Now if you’ll excuse me…