Title: When “Yes” Isn’t Enough
Subtitle: Authority, Repentance, and the Obedience That Follows
Passage 📖: Matthew 21:23–32
Date: August 2nd, 2025
📺 Want to watch the full teaching? Click here to view the August 2nd, 2025 Lesson.
👋 Introduction to Today’s Lesson
Hey friends,
Have you ever known — deep in your bones — that you were made for something?
A calling so clear you could stake your whole life on it?
You’ve lived it. You’ve poured yourself into it.
And yet, when you speak from that place, someone raises an eyebrow.
Not because your words lack truth.
Not because your work lacks fruit.
But because you don’t have the credentials, they’ve decided to make you “legitimate.”
It’s infuriating.
Because you can sense what’s really going on — they’re not rejecting you for lack of evidence.
They’re rejecting you because acknowledging you would mean confronting what’s lacking in themselves.
It’s easier to protect their pride than to recognize the gift in front of them.
That’s the air in the Temple courts the day Jesus is confronted.
The religious leaders aren’t curious. They’re cornering Him.
And His response not only exposes them…
It forces us to ask ourselves where our own sense of authority comes from — and whether our “yes” to God is more than just words.
Let’s dive in.
Last week, we watched Jesus arrive at the Temple during Passover — the most sacred week of the year — and find it overrun with corruption.
Instead of welcoming the outsider and protecting the vulnerable, the Temple had become a machine for profit and exclusion.
So Jesus flips tables, drives out the merchants, and pronounces judgment on the system.
The next morning, He curses a fig tree — a living picture of fruitless religion: full of leaves but empty of life.
We were left asking: Are we bearing the fruit of prayer, mercy, and justice? Or just displaying the leaves of religious appearance?
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23 And when he entered the temple, the chief priests and the elders of the people came up to him as he was teaching, and said, “By what authority are you doing these things, and who gave you this authority?”
24 Jesus answered them, “I also will ask you one question, and if you tell me the answer, then I also will tell you by what authority I do these things.
25 The baptism of John, from where did it come? From heaven or from man?” And they discussed it among themselves, saying, “If we say, ‘From heaven,’ he will say to us, ‘Why then did you not believe him?’
26 But if we say, ‘From man,’ we are afraid of the crowd, for they all hold that John was a prophet.”
27 So they answered Jesus, “We do not know.” And he said to them, “Neither will I tell you by what authority I do these things.
28 “What do you think? A man had two sons. And he went to the first and said, ‘Son, go and work in the vineyard today.’
29 And he answered, ‘I will not,’ but afterward he changed his mind and went.
30 And he went to the other son and said the same. And he answered, ‘I go, sir,’ but did not go.
31 Which of the two did the will of his father?” They said, “The first.” Jesus said to them, “Truly, I say to you, the tax collectors and the prostitutes go into the kingdom of God before you.
32 For John came to you in the way of righteousness, and you did not believe him, but the tax collectors and the prostitutes believed him. And even when you saw it, you did not afterward change your minds and believe him.
This scene takes place in the Temple courts — a massive public space where rabbis taught, sacrifices were made, and Israel’s religious leaders exercised authority.
It’s likely still the same week as the Temple cleansing, so tensions are high. The chief priests and elders have already been humiliated publicly by Jesus’ actions the day before, and now they want to corner Him in front of the crowds.
When the chief priests and elders demand, “By what authority are you doing these things? And who gave you this authority?” (Matt. 21:23), they aren’t genuinely seeking information.
This isn’t curiosity — it’s confrontation.
In first-century Judaism, authority (s’mikhah) wasn’t self-proclaimed.
It was conferred.
A rabbi’s teaching was validated through two primary avenues:
Lineage — being born into a priestly family, tracing back to Aaron.
Recognition — being publicly endorsed and ordained by an already respected rabbi.
Jesus has neither.
He’s not from the priestly line of Levi — He’s from the tribe of Judah.
And He hasn’t been “formally” commissioned by any leading rabbinical figure in Jerusalem.
To the religious elite, this disqualifies Him from speaking with spiritual authority in the Temple — let alone flipping tables, healing the blind, and teaching with boldness in their courts.
But Jesus’ authority doesn’t originate from the Sanhedrin or any human system.
It flows directly from the Father.
Every word He speaks, every miracle He performs, every judgment He pronounces is rooted in divine commissioning.
And that’s exactly the problem.
For the leaders to acknowledge His authority would mean admitting that God had bypassed them — that the Kingdom was advancing without their permission.
It would mean surrendering their influence, their position, and the tight grip they had on defining what was “legitimate” in Israel’s spiritual life.
So rather than submit to the truth, they question the source.
When Jesus responds to their challenge about His authority, He doesn’t answer directly.
Instead, He counters with a question about John the Baptist — and it’s a masterstroke.
Like Jesus, John’s authority didn’t come through the two officially recognized channels of the day:
Priestly lineage — he wasn’t part of the temple elite.
Rabbinical endorsement — he had no formal training or ordination under the Sanhedrin.
Yet John was widely recognized by the people as a prophet sent from God. His ministry drew crowds, shook the nation, and called Israel to repentance.
The religious leaders, however, had rejected him outright.
So when Jesus asks, “John’s baptism — was it from heaven, or from man?” He forces them into a no-win situation:
If they say “from heaven” — they admit that God had indeed sent John, which means they were wrong to reject his message and, by extension, wrong to reject Jesus, whom John had publicly endorsed.
If they say “from man” — they alienate themselves from the crowds, who held John in the highest regard as a true prophet.
Their calculated refusal to answer reveals everything:
They are not driven by a passion for truth or a hunger for God’s Kingdom.
They are driven by self-preservation — clinging to influence, image, and control at all costs.
Right after exposing their unwillingness to answer honestly, Jesus tells a story — not as a change of subject, but as a direct indictment.
The parable of the two sons (Matt. 21:28–32) is about two responses to the Father’s will:
One son says “no” but later repents and obeys.
The other son says “yes” but never acts on it.
In the context of this confrontation, the connection is razor-sharp:
The religious leaders are like the second son — giving public “yeses” to God with their lips, but refusing to obey when His Kingdom arrives in ways they didn’t expect.
The tax collectors and prostitutes are like the first son — initially far from God, but responding in repentance when confronted with the truth.
By linking this parable to John the Baptist, Jesus drives the point home: the outcasts believed John and turned their lives around, while the so-called spiritual authorities refused to budge.
The message is clear — true authority is validated by obedience, not by titles. And the evidence of obedience is not in what you claim to believe, but in what you actually do when God calls.
1️⃣ Kingdom Authority Is Not Earned — It’s Recognized
When the chief priests and elders demand to know “By what authority are you doing these things?” they aren’t curious — they’re threatened.
They see Jesus healing, teaching, and confronting corruption in the Temple, and they want credentials.
Who gave you permission?
Which rabbi trained you?
What institution signed off on your ministry?
Jesus doesn’t answer them directly — because they’ve already shown they can’t recognize God’s authority when it’s right in front of them.
He flips the question back on them, asking about John the Baptist: “Was his baptism from heaven or from men?”
They can’t answer without losing face, and their silence exposes the truth:
They’re not interested in truth.
They’re protecting their position.
In the Kingdom, authority doesn’t come from titles, degrees, or votes of confidence.
It’s not positional — it’s relational.
It flows from being sent by God, aligned with His will, and empowered by His Spirit.
You don’t get Kingdom authority by climbing a ladder — you receive it by kneeling before the King.
And here’s the danger: when we measure authority by earthly standards, we’ll miss it when it comes from heaven.
That means God could be moving through someone in our lives — a friend, a coworker, a stranger — and we could dismiss it because it doesn’t fit our expectations of who should carry spiritual weight.
So the question for us is:
Are we living for God’s stamp of approval… or man’s?
Because in the Kingdom, real authority isn’t something you earn from people — it’s something you receive from the Father.
And when He sends you, no human permission slip can add to it, and no human opinion can take it away.
2️⃣ Repentance Matters More Than Reputation
In Jesus’ parable of the two sons, it’s not the one who sounded obedient that pleased the Father — it’s the one who actually turned and did what was asked.
The polished “yes” means nothing without follow-through.
The tax collectors and prostitutes of Jesus’ day were considered moral failures, outcasts, and spiritual write-offs. But they had something the religious elite lacked: the humility to admit they were wrong and the courage to change.
Meanwhile, the religious leaders clung to their spotless image and public approval — all while resisting the very God they claimed to serve. They looked righteous in the eyes of men, but their hearts were unmoved toward God.
This is the scandal of grace:
God will welcome the one who has lived far from Him, if they turn toward Him in faith… even if it’s in their final breath.
And He will confront the one who has lived close to the things of God, yet never truly submitted to Him.
Reputation might impress people.
But repentance moves heaven.
It’s a sobering reminder for us:
God isn’t looking for a spiritual résumé filled with impressive titles, years in the pews, or a history of public “yeses.”
He’s looking for hearts that are soft enough to be corrected, humble enough to turn, and faithful enough to obey — even if it means admitting we were wrong.
Because in the Kingdom, the measure of faith isn’t in what you’ve said before, but in what you’ll do now.
3️⃣ Saying ‘Yes’ to God Means Acting on It
In Jesus’ parable, the second son looks like the “obedient one” at first.
When his father asks him to work in the vineyard, he gives the right answer — “I will, sir.”
It’s polite. It’s respectful. It’s everything you’d expect from a dutiful son.
Except… he never actually goes.
And in that detail, Jesus delivers a piercing truth:
In the Kingdom, agreement without action is disobedience.
A verbal “yes” is meaningless if it isn’t backed by follow-through.
You can affirm God’s will intellectually — but if it doesn’t translate into the way you live, it’s empty.
James 1:22 says it plainly: “Do not merely listen to the word, and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says.”
The second son deceived himself. He probably felt righteous for giving the right answer.
But God doesn’t measure faithfulness by our statements — He measures it by our lives.
For us today, this challenges the gap between intention and obedience:
Saying we’ll forgive — but holding on to the grudge.
Promising to serve — but letting busyness crowd it out.
Committing to prayer — but rarely making space for it.
In the Kingdom, our “yes” to God is validated not by what we say, but by how we live.
The religious leaders in this passage remind us how easy it is to look the part while resisting the truth.
They had the titles, the robes, the recognition — but when God’s Kingdom stood right in front of them, they couldn’t see it.
Not because the evidence wasn’t clear, but because acknowledging it would cost them their power.
And then there were the tax collectors and prostitutes — the ones who, by every earthly measure, had no credibility.
Yet they saw, they believed, and they turned.
Their “yes” to God wasn’t polished, but it was real.
The parable of the two sons isn’t just a story about them.
It’s a mirror for us.
Where in our lives are we giving God the right words but not the right obedience?
Where have we been content to look faithful, instead of living faithful?
In the Kingdom, authority isn’t earned by approval from people — it’s received from the Father.
And entrance isn’t granted by reputation — it’s opened through repentance.
The only “yes” that matters is the one we live out.
So may we be a people who seek our validation from God alone…
Who are quick to turn when He calls us to change…
And who let our “yes” be proven in the fruit our lives
📌 Challenge of the Week
This week, take inventory of your “yes” to God.
Where have you agreed with your lips but hesitated with your life?
Is there an area where He’s been calling you to turn — but pride, fear, or comfort have kept you from moving?
Pray for the courage to follow through — not for the sake of looking obedient, but for the sake of bearing real fruit for the Kingdom.
Then take one tangible step of obedience before the week ends.
Because in the Kingdom, the truest “yes” is the one you live.