“Then some of the scribes answered and said, ‘Teacher, You have spoken well.’ But after that they dared not question Him anymore.”
— Luke 20:39–40 (NKJV)
Luke’s Gospel is attentive not only to what Jesus teaches, but to how people respond when confronted by His authority. In Luke 20, that response progresses—from marveling, to commendation, to silence—but never reaches repentance or surrender. This movement reveals a sobering truth: it is possible to recognize the wisdom of Jesus, even to affirm the brilliance of His teaching, and still stop short of yielding to Him as Lord.
Earlier in the chapter, when questioned about paying taxes to Caesar, the leaders marveled at Jesus’ answer and kept silent. Their admiration did not lead to repentance. Now, after Jesus exposes the Sadducees’ theological error by rightly interpreting Moses and the words of God in Exodus 3, the scribes go further. They commend Him: “Teacher, You have spoken well.” Yet Luke adds a critical detail—“they dared not question Him anymore.”
They grasp the gravity of His words. They see the depth of His insight into Scripture. But their response ends there. Commendation replaces curiosity. Agreement substitutes for pursuit. What appears outwardly as reverence reveals an inward restraint—a reluctance to go further, lest further questioning demand further surrender.
Luke exposes a subtle but dangerous posture of the human heart: the ability to mentally assent to divine truth while refusing to be shaped by it. This is not open hostility. It is quieter. More respectable. But no less decisive. To stop questioning Jesus is not necessarily to honor Him; it may be to protect oneself from what obedience would require.
Paul later describes Israel as having “zeal without knowledge” (Romans 10:2). That diagnosis resonates here. The scribes agree with the genius of Jesus’ reasoning, yet they do not seek to understand how His teaching might reorder their theology, their identity, or their lives. Their zeal affirms Him. Their restraint resists Him.
This distinction is not merely theological—it is formative. It exposes the dividing line between what agrees with the Spirit of God and what is merely agreeable to the human soul.
Legacy stewardship planning is often approached in similar ways. Many are willing to admire biblical wisdom concerning stewardship, generosity, and inheritance. Some even commend it. They acknowledge that God’s design for resources, family, and future generations is good and reasonable. Yet they dare not question Him further.
They ask how to preserve assets, but not how those assets should serve God’s eternal purposes.
They seek efficiency, but not transformation.
They desire impact, but not surrender.
Like the scribes, they move beyond marveling to commendation—but stop short of submission.
True legacy stewardship does not begin with what we want to leave behind, but with who we are willing to follow. It is not merely the alignment of financial plans with Christian values; it is the willingness to let Christ question us—to reorder our assumptions about ownership, security, inheritance, and success.
When stewardship planning is driven only by what is commendable—what feels wise, prudent, or respectable—it remains safely under our control. But when Christ is allowed to question us further, legacy stewardship becomes an act of discipleship. It moves from preservation to participation in God’s redemptive purposes across generations.
In Luke 20:39–40, Jesus is compelling and commendable, but He is not embraced as Lord and Messiah. A commendable Jesus can be praised at a distance. A Lord requires proximity, obedience, and trust.
Legacy stewardship planning, shaped by this passage, asks a deeper question:
Are we merely affirming Christ’s wisdom, or are we surrendering to His authority over what we steward and why?
The moment we stop questioning Him—not because we trust Him, but because we fear what He might say or require—is the moment stewardship becomes self-directed rather than God-shaped.
A faithful legacy is not built by admiration alone. It is formed where questioning continues, surrender deepens, and Christ is no longer only commendable, but Lord.
Amen.
By Christopher L. Walker at myfathersestate.com
