When Jesus Handed Out Superpowers and Nobody Got It
What’s Luke 9 about?
This is the chapter where Jesus gives his disciples supernatural abilities, feeds 5,000 people with a kid’s lunch, and then drops the bombshell about who he really is—only to watch everyone completely miss the point. It’s a masterclass in how power, identity, and sacrifice collide in ways that turn our expectations upside down.
The Full Context
Luke 9 sits at the absolute center of Luke’s Gospel—both literally and theologically. Luke has spent the first eight chapters building up to this moment: Jesus has been teaching, healing, and demonstrating his authority over everything from storms to demons. Now, in chapter 9, he’s ready to reveal the most shocking truth of all—his identity as Messiah and what that actually means.
The chapter unfolds during Jesus’ Galilean ministry, probably around 29 AD, when his popularity was at its peak but religious opposition was mounting. Luke structures this chapter as a turning point, moving from Jesus’ public ministry in Galilee toward his final journey to Jerusalem and the cross. The disciples have been watching Jesus perform miracles for months, maybe years, and now they’re about to get their own taste of supernatural power—and discover just how unprepared they are for what comes next. This chapter addresses the fundamental questions every follower faces: Who is Jesus really? What does it mean to follow him? And why does the path to glory run straight through suffering?
What the Ancient Words Tell Us
The opening of Luke 9 uses a fascinating Greek construction that most translations smooth over. When Jesus kaleō (calls) the Twelve together, Luke uses the same word employed for summoning someone to a banquet or official assembly. This isn’t a casual “hey guys, come here”—it’s a formal commissioning.
Then Jesus didōmi them dynamis and exousia—power and authority. Here’s where it gets interesting: dynamis is raw supernatural power, the same word used for God’s mighty acts. But exousia is delegated authority, the legal right to act on someone else’s behalf. Jesus isn’t just lending them his power for a few party tricks—he’s deputizing them as his official representatives.
Grammar Geeks
When Luke says Jesus gave them power “over all demons,” he uses the preposition epi with the genitive case—literally “power down upon” demons. This suggests complete dominance, like a victor standing over a defeated enemy. The demons aren’t just controlled; they’re utterly subjugated.
But here’s what’s brilliant about Luke’s account: he immediately follows this power transfer with Herod’s confusion about Jesus’ identity in Luke 9:7-9. While the disciples are out casting out demons, the political powers are scratching their heads, wondering if Jesus might be John the Baptist risen from the dead, or Elijah, or one of the ancient prophets. The irony is thick—the disciples have supernatural power, but even the king can’t figure out who gave it to them.
What Would the Original Audience Have Heard?
When Luke’s first readers encountered the feeding of the 5,000, they would have immediately thought of Elisha multiplying bread in 2 Kings 4:42-44. But Jesus doesn’t just match Elisha—he completely outdoes him. Elisha fed 100 men with 20 loaves; Jesus feeds 5,000 men (plus women and children) with 5 loaves.
The number symbolism would have jumped off the page for Jewish readers. Five loaves, twelve baskets of leftovers, five thousand fed—these aren’t random numbers. Five represents God’s grace (think five books of Torah, five sacrifices in Leviticus). Twelve screams “Israel restored” (twelve tribes, twelve disciples). This miracle isn’t just about lunch; it’s about God’s abundant provision for his people and the restoration of Israel under its true King.
Did You Know?
The Greek word for “basket” (kophinos) refers specifically to the wicker baskets Jewish travelers carried to avoid eating non-kosher food. Luke is subtly emphasizing that this miracle happened within Jewish space, for Jewish people, fulfilling Jewish hopes.
But here’s what would have stunned Luke’s Gentile readers: Jesus tells the disciples to make the people sit down in groups of fifty. In the Roman world, this kind of organized crowd control was the domain of military commanders or government officials. Jesus is displaying the organizational authority of a king, but instead of conscripting an army, he’s hosting a banquet.
Wrestling with the Text
The heart of Luke 9 is Jesus’ question in verse 20: “But who do you say that I am?” Peter nails the answer—“The Christ of God”—but then everything goes sideways.
Jesus immediately begins talking about suffering, rejection, and death. In Luke 9:22, he uses the Greek word dei—“it is necessary”—to describe his coming suffering. This isn’t plan B because plan A failed; this is divine necessity, the way God’s salvation has always been designed to work.
The disciples don’t get it. How do we know? Look at Luke 9:46—immediately after Jesus talks about his death, they start arguing about who’s the greatest among them. It’s almost comical if it weren’t so tragic. Jesus says he’s going to die, and they respond by jockeying for cabinet positions in his kingdom.
Wait, That’s Strange…
Why does Jesus forbid the disciples to tell anyone he’s the Messiah (Luke 9:21) right after Peter gets the answer right? Because Peter got the title right but the job description completely wrong. Jesus can’t have people proclaiming him as Messiah until they understand what kind of Messiah he is.
The transfiguration scene in Luke 9:28-36 provides the answer. When Moses and Elijah appear with Jesus, Luke tells us they were discussing Jesus’ exodus—his departure. But this isn’t just about leaving; the Greek word exodus deliberately echoes Israel’s escape from Egypt. Jesus’ death and resurrection will be the new exodus, the ultimate liberation from slavery to sin and death.
How This Changes Everything
The final section of Luke 9 hits like a cold splash of water. Three would-be followers approach Jesus, and his responses seem almost harsh. To the first, who says he’ll follow Jesus anywhere, Jesus replies that foxes have holes and birds have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head (Luke 9:58).
This isn’t Jesus being mean; it’s Jesus being honest. Following the Messiah doesn’t lead to comfort and success—it leads to homelessness, rejection, and a cross. The path to glory runs straight through Calvary, and there’s no detour.
“Jesus doesn’t promise his followers power over their circumstances; he promises them power to endure their circumstances for something greater.”
When the second person asks to bury his father first, and Jesus tells him to let the dead bury their dead (Luke 9:60), he’s not being callous about family obligations. In Middle Eastern culture, “burying your father” often meant waiting around until your father died so you could receive your inheritance. Jesus is saying that following him can’t wait for convenient timing or financial security.
The third person wants to say goodbye to his family, echoing Elisha’s request when Elijah called him (1 Kings 19:20). But Jesus’ call is more urgent than Elijah’s. There’s no time for looking back when the Kingdom of God is breaking in.
Key Takeaway
Jesus doesn’t call us to successful lives; he calls us to faithful lives. The power he offers isn’t power over our circumstances—it’s power to endure our circumstances for something infinitely greater than ourselves.
Further Reading
Internal Links:
External Scholarly Resources:
