“He was oppressed and afflicted, yet he did not open his mouth… like a lamb that is led to the slaughter.” — Isaiah 53:7
That’s not how our world works.
We live in a culture obsessed with controlling the narrative. The 24/7 noise of news, social media, podcasts, and entertainment all orbit around one idea: make sure your voice is heard. Protect your image. Tell your story first.
Even in sports, what was once about the love of the game is now often wrapped in self-promotion and the pursuit of the almighty dollar. Improvements in officiating and technology are increasingly driven by gambling and betting algorithms rather than a desire to simply be good at what we do—a destructive narrative.
Everywhere you turn, it feels like people are shouting, “Look at me.”
We are obsessed with controlling the narrative.
Image is curated. Stories are spun. Outcomes are engineered.
Everyone’s trying to be the author of their own story.
“Do not be quick with your mouth… God is in heaven and you are on earth, so let your words be few.” — Ecclesiastes 5:2
Talk is cheap—and it’s getting cheaper. If you want to devalue something, flood the market with it. From where I sit, the inventory of words is at an all-time high, with no end in sight.
We are drowning in words…
opinions, takes, narratives, spin.
Is anyone really listening?
The Teacher from Ecclesiastes would call it what it is: wearisome.
And then… there’s Jesus.
The silent Lamb of God.
He had every right to defend Himself.
Every right to correct the record.
Every right to silence His accusers with truth and power.
But He didn’t.
Not because He was weak—but because He was meek.
“Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.” — Matthew 5:5
Meekness isn’t weakness. It’s strength under control. It’s the quiet confidence that comes from knowing who you are and whose you are. It’s the ability to entrust your reputation, your future, and even your suffering to God.
Jesus didn’t need to control the narrative—because He trusted the Author.
And as His apprentices, we’re invited into that same way of being.
To resist the urge to prove ourselves.
To loosen our grip on recognition and control.
To walk in humility and gentleness, even when misunderstood.
This is radical. It’s countercultural. And it’s the way of the Kingdom.
Because in the Kingdom of God, it’s not the loud who inherit the earth…
It’s the meek.
Run the play. Trust the Author of the one true narrative.
Finding Our Place in the Story
When you feel the urge to defend, explain, or control how your story is perceived, what would it look like in that exact moment to trust the Author instead?
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