Language with Authority and Power

Language with Authority and Power

A personal reflection: of surrender, confrontation and faith

I am Airton.

And perhaps this is the most personal text I have ever written.

I am not writing this to teach.
Nor to convince anyone.
I write because I was confronted.
Because I was broken.
And because I am being restored.

This is not an article. It is a record.
Of a real process. A living one.
That is still in progress.

I do not write as someone who has arrived, but as someone who was touched.
And now cannot go back to the place he came from.

If anything here makes sense to you, let it be the Spirit.
Not me.
Because it is no longer I who live…

When I realized my language no longer had weight

For a long time, I prayed sincerely. Respectfully. Even beautifully.

“Lord, if it is your will, heal this person.”
“Work a miracle, Jesus, have mercy…”
“God bless you.”

But over time, something began to bother me inside. I noticed that the words were right, but something was missing. Authority was missing. Weight was missing. Power was missing.

This text is a reflection of what is happening to me. It is not a sermon. It is not an accusation. It is a testimony. It is a confession. It is a turning of conscience.

When I realized that Jesus did not begin before the Spirit, and I was trying to begin without Him

Jesus only began his ministry after declaring: “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me…”

Then he instructed the disciples: “Stay in the city until you are clothed with power from on high.”

Peter declares: “What I have, this I give you.” And he heals the paralytic in Acts 3. The language changed. They spoke with authority and power.

When I realized my language seemed beautiful, but was empty

“God bless you,” but the Word says He has already blessed us with every spiritual blessing.

“Lord, if it is your will,” but the will has already been revealed in Christ.

The Spirit showed me that my language, though pious, was steeped in doubt, and not in faith. It revealed tradition, but not living presence.

When I realized it was not a lack of teaching: it was a lack of the Spirit in me

I knew verses, I knew how to preach. But I did not know the power of God.

My “humility” was, in truth, disguised unbelief.

Paul's confrontation in Acts 19: “Did you receive the Holy Spirit when you believed?” echoed in me.

And I understood: without the Spirit, there is no language with authority and power.

When I began to take the first steps, and realized I am still in transition

It is not technique. It is presence. It is not formula. It is communion.

I began to declare healing with reverence and faith. To bless by saying: “Go in peace.”

I still slip.
Sometimes the old language escapes, almost without meaning to.
Sometimes I catch myself praying as before, insecure, conditioned, fragile.

But something inside me has changed.
I can no longer pretend I do not know.

I still speak as before, at times.
I still hesitate. I still doubt.
But I was touched.
And whoever is touched by the Spirit, even without understanding everything,
knows that something has changed forever.

When I realized I needed to speak as a son, and that this would demand courage

I do not want only to preach. I want to cooperate. I do not want only to teach. I want to manifest. I do not want only to pray. I want to speak as a son.

“When the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on the earth?”

But as for me…
I keep seeking.
One step at a time.
With reverence. With love.
But also with faith.
Because now I am coming to know.
And whoever knows… cannot go back.

When I realized it is not about a gift, but about identity

I do not feel that I have the gift of healing. But I carry the name of Jesus.

It is not about gifts, it is about authority. A gift is an enabling. Authority is an inheritance of the children.

To speak even without feeling it is, for me, an act of faith.
Of submission.
Of courage.
Of boldness.

When I realized I needed to lift up the Son of Man: within me

Jesus said: “Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the desert, so the Son of Man must be lifted up.”

Today, this healing happens when Christ is lifted up in me, not only with words, but with my own surrendered life.

Even without the support of science, of society, of religion… it matters that He be seen in me.

When I understood that the cross now passes through me

The bronze serpent in the desert pointed to Christ crucified. And now, that cross continues to be raised, in me.

I was crucified with Christ. And if He lives in me… then the cross that heals the world today is the cross I carry with Him.

Whoever looks at this living cross…
may be healed.
Because Christ is being lifted up.
In me.
In us.