When Authority Competes with Christ (No King But Jesus Part 1)
What if we took seriously the idea that the Church has no king but Jesus?
Not in theory—but in practice.
What if the Church was never meant to be utimately governed by popes, bishops, celebrity pastors, or centralized institutions—but by Christ Himself? This idea isn’t new. But it does feel radical in a culture that instinctively gravitates toward visible authority and structured hierarchy.
And yet, it is deeply biblical.
I’ve been reading Kingdoms in Conflict by David Pawson, and one chapter in particular stopped me in my tracks. It traces how God’s people, beginning with Israel, repeatedly drifted from God’s design for leadership. Pawson writes:
“God’s pattern of government for them was not to have their own king… The substitution of human leadership for the divine kingship is a mistake that the church makes again and again. We are to have no king but Jesus.” (p. 66)
This echoes the moment in 1 Samuel 8 when Israel asked for a king “like all the other nations.” The request seemed reasonable—but God’s response was sobering:
“It is not you they have rejected, but they have rejected me as their king” (1 Samuel 8:7).
The issue wasn’t structure itself—it was where ultimate trust and authority were being placed. The people wanted something visible, tangible, and controllable. In doing so, they were turning from the direct rule of God.
That tension hasn’t disappeared.
When we turn to the New Testament, we see that the early Church did have structure—but it looked different than what we often assume. Local churches were led by a plurality of elders (Acts 14:23; Titus 1:5), men tasked with shepherding, teaching, and overseeing the flock. But they were not presented as distant executives or centralized rulers. They were among the people, accountable to the Chief Shepherd (1 Peter 5:2–4).
And over all of it, Scripture is clear:
Christ is the head of the Church (Ephesians 1:22–23; Colossians 1:18).
That truth is not just theological—it’s meant to shape how we think about leadership, authority, and influence within the Church.
Because there is a subtle drift that can happen over time.
Not always intentionally. Not always quickly. But gradually, we can begin to place more weight on human leadership than Scripture does. We can begin to rely on personalities, platforms, or systems in ways that quietly compete with the authority of Christ.
Whether through highly centralized structures, movements built around a single influential voice, or church cultures that revolve around one dominant leader—the temptation is familiar. We want clarity, stability, and direction. But in pursuing those things, we can sometimes elevate human authority beyond its proper place.
Pawson puts it this way:
“His way is to have people living all over the place with their own elders, but obeying the king of heaven and doing what is right in his eyes… Then you will see a unity among God’s people right the way through.” (p. 76)
This kind of vision may feel less efficient. Less visible. Less controlled.
But it points to something important: the Church’s unity does not ultimately come from centralized systems, but from shared submission to Christ.
Jesus prayed for this kind of unity in John 17—not a uniform structure, but a deep, spiritual oneness rooted in truth and obedience to Him.
Pawson raises a helpful question:
“What sort of unity would most impress our nation? Every denomination becoming one large organization… or people in every place living the same way, thinking the same way, filled with the same joy… as subjects of the King of Heaven?” (p. 76)
It’s worth considering.
The early Church grew without a central headquarters, without a single controlling voice, and often under intense pressure. And yet:
“The church… was being built up. And walking in the fear of the Lord and in the comfort of the Holy Spirit, it multiplied” (Acts 9:31).
Their strength was not in structure alone, but in their shared life under the lordship of Christ.
This also helps explain why Paul addressed division so directly. When believers began aligning themselves with particular leaders—“I follow Paul,” “I follow Apollos”—Paul’s response was immediate:
“Is Christ divided?” (1 Corinthians 1:13)
The Church was never meant to orbit around personalities. It is a body—and Christ is the head (Ephesians 4:15–16).
So what does this mean for us today?
It doesn’t mean rejecting leadership or structure. Scripture clearly affirms both. The Church needs faithful elders, wise oversight, and sound teaching.
But it does mean keeping those things in their proper place.
It means being cautious of any model—formal or informal—that begins to concentrate authority in a way that overshadows Christ’s headship. It means valuing plurality over personality, servanthood over prominence, and faithfulness over influence.
Because the moment leadership begins to function like lordship, something has gone wrong.
The Church is at its healthiest not when it mirrors the kingdoms of this world, but when it reflects the Kingdom of God. A Kingdom where:
the greatest are servants
leaders are examples
and Christ alone is exalted
Jesus never instructed His followers to build empires. He called them to make disciples, to love one another, and to remain rooted in Him.
And throughout history, some of the most enduring expressions of the Church have been marked not by size or centralization—but by humility, faithfulness, and a shared submission to Christ.
As Pawson reminds us, the strength and unity of the Church do not ultimately come from structure—but from surrender.
No king but Jesus.
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