Not just the message. The mandate.
Grab a coffee and sit virtually with me for five minutes and look at this verse that has just stopped me hurtling through my five chapters a day regime.
“I have not spoken on my own authority, but the Father who sent me has himself given me a commandment – what to say and what to speak.” (John 12:49)
This isn’t poetry or a nice little quip. This is pedantic, deliberate and intentional. You are aware of what is happening, the gospel narrative is now gathering pace and Jesus is aware of the shadow of the coming Cross, His soul pressed by the weight of what’s coming. You can see it, sense it – feel it because you know how it all unpacks. The air is thick with rejection, suspicion, betrayal, and into that perfect moment He says something that draws the attention of every preacher, every prophet, every parent, every tired, weary saint in their tracks: He does not speak on His own authority. It’s His own unique claim – “the words are not my own”.
Just think about that. The One who holds all things together by the word of His power, waits to be told what to say. And how to say it.
Not merely the message – what to say – but the manner and the moment; what to speak. There’s a difference. The first deals with substance. The second with delivery. It’s as if Jesus is saying, “I don’t just get the content from the Father – I get the orchestra conductor baton precise movement. The breath. The timing. The tone.” Because with God, precision matters. Not for performance. For obedience.
Now for some, that’s a comfort. But for others – especially those who are eager to speak, eager to be used – it can be an ache. A struggle. We’ve seen the damage sometimes caused by words spoken too soon – too harsh or lacking wisdom. Yet on the other side, the silence that follows when we’re longing for an affirming or encouraging word can be just as hard to bear.
If you’ve ever been there – and no doubt you have (or will) – quietly longing for direction, unsure whether what you feel is faith or foolishness, take heart. You’re not alone. Watch Jesus. Jesus wasn’t guessing. But He was listening. And He was waiting.
And we hate waiting.
Especially when the pressure’s rising, and the clock ticking. The crowd is demanding. The Pharisees are watching. And the inner life feels frayed. In a moment like that, most of us would justify speaking. We’d say, “It needed to be said.” But Jesus didn’t speak like that. He didn’t react. He responded. His voice was in sync the Father’s and when He did speak, it came with the full weight of the One who was behind it. No passive legalism, irritation or annoyance. No attention seeking or platform building. Certainly no books, DVD’s or mp3’s.
Put your glasses on. Stretch the screen on your gadget with your fingers. Forget the time and have a close look. There’s mystery here. Holy mystery. The Son, eternally one with the Father, still waits for the command – what to say and what to speak. That’s not hierarchy. That’s heart-devotion. This is what love sounds like under pressure. Not noise. Not posturing. But the calm, obedient echo of heaven.
And if Jesus had to walk that road—how much more us?
We’re not immune to the hunger to be heard. Noticed. Affirmed. To say something wise. Or bold. Or helpful. But there’s a sharp mercy in this verse. A holy restraint. It speaks volumes to us that we don’t need to fill the silence with our own cleverness. We don’t need to generate words – our noise. We’re invited instead to receive them.
For those who preach, that’s both freeing and terrifying. We’re not meant to speak to impress. Or to perform. We’re meant to speak because we’ve been given something to say. And more than that – because we’ve been told when to say it.
To be honest, sometimes we don’t hear. Sometimes the silence lingers. Sometimes all we have is the ache and the absence. That, too, is part of following. And the Father who gave Jesus the command, also gave Him the Spirit without measure. The same Spirit now dwells in you. If ever you felt familiar to Jesus, that’s it.
So no, you’re not alone in the tension. And no, you don’t need to force it. But you were made to speak. Just not on your own authority. Wait for the word. Then speak it like Jesus did. With love, grace, kindness and joy.