Whose power?

He was an occupier in a foreign land. Although, to be honest, he was not that important, merely one of the ruling forces, and was stationed in an out of the way area, far from the capital. But he was in charge of the troops in the town he lived in, having authority over them, and responsible for keeping the peace. He knew many of the local people wanted him – them – gone. They wanted control over their own land, and did not like an infidel having power over them. But he found that he mostly got along with the people in the area he was responsible for; he respected them, and their religion, and they honoured that. He had been able to pay for improvements to the town. He was also aware that large crowds were gathering around a local man, who would teach and heal the sick, but they did not seem to be causing any problems, or provoking any unrest, so he left the man to get on. Then his servant fell sick. This particular servant had been with him a long time, and was, in truth, more than a servant to him. He loved his servant dearly, and was distraught at the thought of losing him. But no-one seemed able to do anything, and his servant just got worse. Then he realised that the preacher was in the district. He did not think, but went straight out to find him. From all he had heard, this man would be able to heal his servant. He was surprised when the preacher offered to come into his house; he was not worthy of that, and he knew the locals did not like to go into a foreigner’s house. No, he told the preacher just say the word and my servant will be healed, for I have authority myself, and if I say to my soldiers ‘go there’, they go, and if I say to my servant ‘do this’, he does it. The preacher was impressed with the man’s faith; his servant was healed from that moment. But he had no idea that his story would go down as an example of faith and that this centurion, whose name we do not know, would still be remembered 2 000 years later. (See Matthew 8:5-13; this version has the centurion go directly to Jesus, rather than sending intermediaries as in Luke).

It was the Centurion’s awareness of his own authority that gave him the faith to realise that Jesus did not need to be physically present to be able to heal his servant. He was not puffed up with his own power and was humble enough to acknowledge that he was not worthy to have Jesus come into his house – that, in itself, may be rare among members of an occupying force. Part of that humility may have been an acceptance of his own authority, and a balanced vision of his own power, which gave him the insight to acknowledge Jesus’ own power and authority with the faith to see that Jesus only needed to say the word in order to heal his servant. It was an expression of faith that struck Jesus as beyond anything he had met elsewhere. It is a story that it is worth pondering for ourselves.

Often with the stories of Jesus’ healing, it is easy to get diverted to the miraculous healings and how that relates to today, but I do not think that is the point of the story. It is about the faith of the Centurion, and how he came to that faith by a recognition of Jesus’ authority. That, in this case, it led to the servant being healed is an important part of the story, but not, I think, the essence of what it can teach us. Let us start with the Centurion’s own power. He was in charge of the men under him and had other officers with authority over him. So he understood the nature of authority, and the extent of his own power. From this, he could see the nature of Jesus’ very different power, a jump not everyone would have been able to make. How much contact with, or awareness of, Jesus he had prior to this incident, we do not know, but if he was based in Capernaum, he cannot have been unaware of this wandering preacher who gathered so much attention. He knew enough to know that Jesus could heal his servant, and he saw enough of Jesus’ own authority to know that Jesus only needed to say the word for his servant to be healed. He recognised and acknowledged Jesus’ authority, and this was the basis of his faith, faith that Jesus had not found elsewhere.

But how does that affect us? We can start with asking ourselves how much we are aware of Jesus’ power. Do we acknowledge that he has authority over us? Whether we have faith or not, Jesus has power over the whole world, although it is not often recognised. Indeed, Jesus turns our ideas of power totally upside down. Nevertheless, he does hold that power, and he does have authority over us. I am assuming that most people reading this blog will have faith of some sort, and would therefore recognise that authority. But it is still worth asking the question: do I see Jesus’ power, and do I acknowledge that he has authority over me? Do I see how Jesus uses power? Do I allow him authority, or do I try and maintain control over my own life? For it is my life … or is it? Do not our lives, in fact, belong to God, especially if we have made a commitment, but even if we have not? If we have given our lives to God, then it is God who holds authority over our lives, and we have ceded control over ‘my’ life to God; our lives have become Jesus’ lives. This should change how and why we live, even if often the details remain the same. We are not doing this for ourselves, but for God, and for a God who uses power very differently to the way the world does. It is our acknowledgement of Jesus’ authority over our lives which deepens and maintains our faith, which can become the bedrock of our faith. For faith is more than just what we believe, but includes how we live, who we honour. Faith, increasingly, gives God the glory and the honour and the power; faith sees how God uses that glory and honour and power.  For our faith is in a compassionate God who loves us, not in a dictator who controls us.