When reading the story of Jesus standing before the Sanhedrin Council, Pilate and Herod in the lead up to His crucifixion, it is hard to to understand why He did not beg for His life. When Jesus was arrested and brought before the authorities, His silence spoke louder than words.
Imagine knowing that you were going to die no matter what you said or how hard you begged. Not only did Jesus know He was going to die, but He didn’t defend Himself and certainly didn’t plead for mercy.
When Jesus was arrested and brought before the religious elite, His silence spoke louder than words. In the moments leading up to His crucifixion, when accusations and questions were leveled at Him, He chose not to defend Himself, not to argue, and not to explain.
It’s easy to gloss over this silence as a simple act of submission, but when I reflect on it, I find it more than deeply moving—it was eternally extraordinary.
Why did Jesus remain silent? I could share what I believe, but as a Biblicist, let’s stick with what the Bible both says and demonstrates.
First, the Bible prophesied that as the Lamb of God, Jesus would remain “silent as a sheep before its shearers” (Isa. 53:7).
Next, as the fullness of the Godhead possessing all foreknowledge (omniscience), the Lord knew that there was no changing what must happen (John 1:1-3, Col. 2:9). Furthermore, God so loved the world that for us to be reconciled to Him, a sinless Lamb had to be sacrificed (John 3:16-17).
Additionally, there’s something much simpler to consider: Jesus had already said everything that needed to be said during His three years of ministry. Every word He spoke before this moment was deliberate, purposeful, and eternal. His silence wasn’t an omission—it was a declaration that nothing more was needed. Had He added more, the gospel could have become a word salad.
Throughout His ministry, Jesus preached about love, forgiveness, justice, humility, and the kingdom of God. Unlike almost every other pastor who writes and preaches, I am compelled to tell you that Jesus also preached about hellfire, issued rebukes, and even stormed a temple with righteous anger (Mark 9:43-44, Matt. 23:27-28, John 2:15-16).
In everything, the Lord was intentional and wasted neither words nor actions. Every parable, every teaching, and every conversation was packed with truth. By the time He stood before His accusers, His mission was no longer about preaching verbally but about completing His mission to provide eternal life, which required dying at the hands of sinners (Matt. 26:45).
Every word the Lord spoke was intentional, complete, and meant to reveal His identity as the long-awaited Messiah of Israel first and then the entire world (Matt. 15:24, John 10:16). By the time He was arrested, there was no need to keep preaching because His miracles and actions had already revealed who He is—not was—the Son of God.
Furthermore, after His resurrection, He continued His mission and teaching (Matt. 28, Luke 24). Those who truly sought the truth had already heard and experienced what they needed to believe in Him (John 10:27). People who accused the Lord weren’t interested in truth; they were interested in silencing Him (Matt. 5:18).
That realization hits home for me because, as a preacher, I have what I term “preacher-itis,” which is an affliction of the vocal cords that compels me to speak far too much. Furthermore, as a Christian apologist, I too often feel the need to defend the Word of God past the leading of the Holy Spirit.
This is grounded in disobedience, of course, but more specifically, in trying to force people into the kingdom, which violates free will and is contrary to Scripture (Matt. 10:14). If I’m honest, submission like that is hard for me for one reason above all others:
I know the Bible indicates, “If anyone is in Christ, old things have passed away; behold, all things have become new” (2 Cor. 5:17).
Yet it’s true that my time in foster care growing up still has a hold on me. When a child is a ward of the state, at least in my experience, you are placed in the homes of strangers because your primary caregiver has been either permanently or temporarily relieved of their parental rights by the law.
In these situations, one must constantly either physically or verbally defend oneself from the attacks of others. Sometimes it’s from other kids; other times, it’s adults who prey on a defenseless child. More plainly, I learned to plead with people so they would believe me, and too often, this sinful habit remains.
I concur with Paul’s self-assessment: “The thing that I do not want to do, that is the thing I do, and what I should do, I don’t do... Oh wretched man that I am, who will deliver me from the body of this death?” (Rom. 7:14-25).
When this is coupled with my God-given indignation toward even the slightest bit of injustice, the silence of Jesus in the face of evil before Him becomes all the more stunning. But our Master shows me that silence can be a greater act of strength and trust.
My struggle with silence is that I fear it will be misunderstood as weakness or indifference. But Jesus’s silence was neither. Unlike most who will read this, I preach and teach the masculinity of Jesus! None can deny that His silence was one of the boldest statements He could have made.
When Pilate questioned Him, Christ Jesus didn’t defend Himself, and this heathen ruler was astonished because silence wasn’t what he expected. Most would have been begging for their lives, arguing their innocence, or shaking like a leaf on a tree in the wind.
But Yeshua’s silence wasn’t about convincing anyone—not Pontius Pilate, not Herod, and not the corrupt Sanhedrin Council. What more powerful reminder of the power of silence is there in the entire biblical narrative?
I’ll be honest—there have been times when I wanted to speak but felt a nudge to stay silent, and perhaps you’ve felt it too. It’s that moment when you know your words won’t change anything, or when speaking up might do more harm than good. In those times, all believers must seek the guidance of the Holy Spirit.
Does anyone doubt that had He desired to, Christ could have easily dismantled their arguments against Him? After all, on several occasions, He had deconstructed nonsensical arguments (Matt. 22:17-21, Matt. 22:35-40, John 8:3-7).
Think about it: if early Christians, such as Stephen—even in his martyrdom—could so
effortlessly dismantle religious nonsense with proper apologetics, how much easier would it have been for the Lord Jesus (Acts 7:1-53)?
Too often, professing Christians remain silent out of fear, but that’s a discussion for another article. Nevertheless, silence requires humility, which, while some have it in abundance, others—myself included—fall short of.
Here are just a few reasons why silence achieves Holy Ghost outcomes:
Silence Reflects Trust in GodSilence in the face of accusations demonstrates one’s trust, not in their ability to affect the outcome, but in reliance on the Lord God of Armies.
Silence Achieves What Words CannotSilence often achieves what an entire book of words cannot: self-reflection. It forces others to grapple with their own actions and assumptions.
Silence Protects RelationshipsThere have been times when my words, even if justified, would have only escalated conflict. While I personally don’t mind confrontation, especially with wayward church leaders, one must be keenly aware of the unnecessary hurt that can result from misguided zeal.
Silence Demonstrates StrengthIt takes strength to stay silent when everything in you wants to speak. But that strength reflects the character of Christ and can be a powerful witness to others.
Jesus’s silence wasn’t just a moment in history—it’s a lesson that echoes throughout the ages. In a world that values being heard and seen, Christ reminds us of the power of restraint.
Let’s be clear, though: such restraint should not be confused with passivity. It’s about confidence, trust, and submission to God’s will, even when the outcome may not be personally beneficial.
I am still learning to live this out. There are times when I fail and speak when I shouldn’t, but I’m grateful for Jesus’s grace and mercy in those countless moments. When I think about the cross, I’m reminded that Jesus’s silence wasn’t the end of the story. His resurrection was the ultimate vindication of everything He had said and done.
So, the next time we feel the urge to speak when silence—not cowardice—should reign, let’s remember the example left by the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords.
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