Sermon – “He will speak peace” (Psalm 85)

 

I wonder how many of you, when you’re reading a book, take time to examine the copyright page or read through the backflap or the author’s bio. I have to admit that as often as not I am one of those people. When I’m reading a book I can often find it helpful to know a little bit about who wrote it and his or her life and ideas. But I admit that I have never really carried that principle into my reading of the psalms. Perhaps you’ve scarcely noticed that a great many of the psalms are preceded by little introductory notes. Generally they are fewer than a dozen words. And they are usually printed in a different font from the psalm itself. So we just skip over them as though they didn’t really matter.

By and large that is totally understandable. Because nearly half of the psalms, and many of the most familiar and beloved, feature the name of King David: “Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless his holy name!” (Psalm 103) “O Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth!” (Psalm 8) “The fool says in his heart, ‘There is no God.’” (Psalm 14) “The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims his handiwork.” (Psalm 19). And if there were a psalm hit list, the one that would come at the top: “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.” (Psalm 23)

In addition to naming the author or composer, many of the psalms are also preceded by what are called superscriptions: “For the memorial offering” (Psalm 38), “A Song for the Sabbath” (Psalm 92), or “A Prayer of Moses, the man of God” (Psalm 90). Some offer us a little bit of their context or an event underlying their composition: “A song at the dedication of the Temple”(Psalm 30), “A prayer of one afflicted, when faint and pleading before the Lord” (Psalm 102), or “A Psalm of David, when he fled from his son Absalom” (Psalm 3). Still others suggest a tune or other musical instruction: “For the flutes” (Psalm 5), “With stringed instruments” (Psalm 4), and one of my favourites, “According to the Dove on Far-off Terebinths” (Psalm 56).

By and large we just ignore those little introductions. It’s almost as if they didn’t exist. But in doing so we run the risk of missing out on some potentially valuable insights. And this morning’s psalm is a case in point. It begins: “To the choirmaster. A Psalm of the Sons of Korah”. And it is one of a dozen psalms that are preceded by this attribution.

A song of peace

So I find myself asking, who were the sons of Korah? For an answer to that question we need to turn to the book of Numbers. There we find a man named Korah assembling a gang of 250 powerful men to challenge the leadership and authority Moses. “You’ve gone too far!” he shouted at him. “Why do you act like you’re running the whole show? What right do you have to act as though you’re greater than anyone else?”

Korah’s attempt to overthrow God’s appointed leader very quickly proved disastrous, as the next day the judgement of God fell upon him and his co-conspirators. Suddenly the ground underneath their tents began to shake violently, until it split apart into a chasm and they all plunged to their doom, never to be seen or heard from again.[1]

Indeed for the next two hundred fifty years or so the Bible makes no mention of the family of Korah. But then suddenly they turn up during the reign of King David—not as contemptuous rebels this time, but as faithful leaders of the instrumental and choral music of the tabernacle. They were also the composers of eleven of the most beautiful psalms in the Bible.

A number of them you will recognize in some of the popular hymns and songs we sing in the church today, three thousand years later: “As the deer pants for flowing streams, so pants my soul for you, O God.” (Psalm 42) “My heart overflows with a pleasing theme… my tongue is like the pen of a ready writer.” (Psalm 45) “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.” (Psalm 46) “Clap your hands, all peoples! Shout to God with songs of joy!” (Psalm 47) “Great is the Lord and greatly to be praised in the city of our God!” (Psalm 48)

Far from any evidence of arrogance or rebellion, their songs express a deep devotion to God and a humble longing for his presence. And that is exactly what we find in this morning’s psalm.

No one is entirely sure when Psalm 85 was composed or what the events were that lay behind it. Could it have been the response to a series of disastrous crop failures? Could it have followed the invasion and subsequent withdrawal by an enemy army? It might very well have been either or both of these things—or something else altogether—that caused the sons of Korah to compose this psalm, as Judah’s history by and large was a continuous series of ups and downs.

Whatever the case, it looks as though the crisis has passed and a fragile hope is beginning to stir in the hearts of God’s people once more. “But will it last?” some are asking themselves. “Is it realistic to imagine that things have really turned around?” In the midst of their faint optimism they still have lingering doubts, and we hear an echoing plea to the Lord:

Restore us again, O God… Put away your indignation…
Will you be angry with us forever?
Will you prolong your anger to all generations?
Will you not revive us again…?

It is clear that these people are still feeling a lingering pain. The crisis may have passed, but their wounds have not yet healed. And so in the midst of their sorrow and confusion, through their hesitation and doubts, the psalm encourages the people to stop and to listen: “Let me hear what the Lord God will speak…” And what is it that the Lord God will speak? The answer comes in the very next words: “He will speak peace to his people.”

The nature of peace

It is the psalmist’s unflinching conviction that peace, true peace, is God’s desire for each and every one of his people. That is the abiding message that we hear again and again through the Scriptures. It was the message of the angels announcing Jesus’ birth in Bethlehem: “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace…!” (Luke 2:14) It was among Jesus’ words of assurance to his disciples on the fateful night before his crucifixion: “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you… Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid.” (John 14:27) It was Jesus’ first word to his disciples following his resurrection: “Peace be with you.” (John 20:19) And it was while he was languishing in prison that the apostle Paul could write about the peace that surpasses all understanding (Philippians 4:7).

One of the challenges for Christians in our day and age is that when the Bible speaks about peace, it is pointing to something distinctly different from what is popularly regarded as peace in our contemporary society. Today when many people think about peace, what comes into their minds? In my observation, as often as not their ideas are suffused with vague notions drawn from Eastern religions or pantheistic philosophies. Here is one definition I pulled off the internet:

Peace … is a profound sense of well-being and contentment that arises from an intimate connection with the divine or spiritual essence within and around us.

It all sounds very lovely, but definitions like that miss the mark by a wide margin.

I remember years ago attending a seminar focusing on how Christians can benefit from Eastern meditation techniques. My recollection may be a little vague, but I seem to recall that much of our day was spent trying to maintain a relaxed posture with our eyes closed and echoing the monosyllabic “Om, om…” again and again. I can’t say that I ended up feeling any more peaceful at the close of the session. (Perhaps a little more wound up would be closer to the truth!)

Now it’s not my intention to put down other religions. But what I do want to say emphatically is that that is not what the Bible means by peace. Shalom is, in essence, how things are meant to be. It is a slice of heaven. Peace—true peace—is not something we can ever drum up within ourselves, no matter how hard we may try. No, if we take what the Bible teaches seriously, peace is God’s gift. And that is the conviction that underlies Psalm 85.

Let’s take a look at it again. What does the psalmist say in verse 8? Not, “Let’s all take a few deep breaths and try to focus our minds on peace.” No, it’s “Let me hear what the Lord God will speak, for he will speak peace to his people…”

So what does the Bible mean when it uses the word peace? When it comes down to it, there is no single English term that can fully translate the Hebrew shalom. It means much more than the mere absence of conflict. Shalom carries within it the notion of fulfilment—of entering into a state of wholeness and unity, of restored relationships. Ideas of completeness and harmony are closer to its real meaning. In nearly two-thirds of its occurrences, shalom describes the state of fulfilment which is the result of God’s presence.[2]

It is generally agreed that the fullest and most eloquent expression of what shalom means was given to us by Moses’ brother Aaron in the book of Numbers: “The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you; the Lord lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace.” (Numbers 6:24-26)

So we don’t look inside ourselves for peace. Because we’ll never find it there. No, with the sons of Korah we look instead to the Giver of peace. And we affirm with the apostle Paul, “We have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ…” (Romans 5:1) God is the one who will speak peace to his people.

The gift of peace

But the sons of Korah are not finished. They have more to sing about peace. And we find it coming up in verses 10 and 11:

Steadfast love and faithfulness meet;
righteousness and peace kiss each other.
Faithfulness springs up from the ground,
and righteousness looks down from the sky.
Yes, the Lord will give what is good,
and our land will yield its increase.

Do you see the picture they are painting for us here? It may have been a challenge for the people to imagine, as they looked around and saw nothing but ruin and destruction. But what we have is the promise of the near approach of spring. The nation had lived through calamitous times, but now they could look forward to something better. Don’t let discouragement bring you down, the psalmists are singing to the people. It may seem like winter now, but spring will surely come.

I wonder if the sons of Korah could have imagined that their psalm would find its true fulfilment not in the temporary relief of a season of peace, but in a person—in the one whom the prophet Isaiah would hail as the Prince of Peace (Isaiah 9:6)?

In this Advent time we remember the long centuries through which God’s people faithfully awaited his coming. And we ourselves look forward to our celebration of the fulfilment of their hope in the birth of a tiny child in Bethlehem. And to hearing once again the hymn of the angelic chorus:

Glory to God in the highest,
and on earth peace among those with whom he is pleased! (Luke 2:14)

With the apostle Paul and with our fellow believers down through the ages and around the world we can joyfully proclaim, “He is our peace…” (Ephesians 2:14). Yet we must not allow the serene innocence of the manger scene in Bethlehem blind us to the fact that the peace that Jesus came to bring came at a cost—and it would be nothing less than his life’s blood, shed on the cross (Colossians 1:20). It was there at the cross that, in the words of our psalm this morning, God’s perfect righteousness and God’s perfect peace finally and forever would kiss each other. The hope of Advent finds its fulfilment in the sacrifice of the cross.

It wasn’t the sons of Korah, but another Israelite, the prophet Isaiah, who wrote the beautiful words:

You will keep him in perfect peace
whose mind is stayed on you… (Isaiah 26:3)

We have just over two weeks till we celebrate the coming of the Prince of Peace. Amid the glitz and glitter, amid all the sales hype and the incessant message to “Spend, spend, spend!” may we intentionally keep our hearts and minds focused on our gracious God. And may you allow him to speak peace to your heart and to kiss you with his peace.

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[1]     See Numbers 16

[2]     See “shalom” in the Theological Wordbook of the Old Testament, 931

Sermon – “Some Things Bear Repeating” (1 John 2:7-14)

Last month Karen and I went on a road trip. It took us a little over 4400 kilometers in all, and along the way we enjoyed some wonderful scenery: the picturesque former mill town of Almonte just outside Ottawa, the quiet lakeside village of Haliburton, the thundering roar of Niagara Falls, the serene Thousand Islands, and the tree-covered slopes of New York’s Adirondacks and Vermont’s Green Mountains.

However, stunning though much of the scenery was along the way, none of that was the main intention of our trip. No, our real purpose was to spend time with relatives and friends from the past fifty or more years. And one of the highlights along the way was to worship with the church I had served more than forty years ago, back in the early 1980s. It was a delight to see faces and reminisce with worshippers we had not been with for decades. Admittedly there were those among us who had put on a little weight and others who had lost a little hair (and some of us both!). And the grey-bearded gentleman who read the Scripture had barely reached his teen years when we had last seen him. And there they were, continuing faithfully today.

Being with these people again was a living reminder that as believers and followers of Jesus Christ we are in it for the long haul. Jesus talked about the life of discipleship in terms of abiding in him, or as one rendering of the New Testament puts it, making ourselves at home with him.[1] And for his own part Jesus has promised that he will be with us to the end of the world. And that is what forms much of the background behind the First Letter of John, from which we have been reading over the past few weeks.

John is writing as a long-term pastor and he is writing looking back on his own even longer-term walk of discipleship with Jesus. We can’t be entirely sure, but the likelihood is that John was just a young teenager when with his brother James he left his fishing net behind in his father’s boat and heeded Jesus’ call to “Come, follow me.” Three years later he would be the only one of Jesus’ male disciples to be found standing by the cross. And the third morning after that he would be the first to peer inside the empty tomb and look with amazement on Jesus’ disused grave cloths lying discarded in a heap.

Now, as we read from the first of his three letters, the scene moves a thousand kilometers north, from Jerusalem to Ephesus, near the coast of what is modern-day Turkey. We learn from Irenaeus, who lived a generation later, that John ministered there until some point in the reign of the emperor Trajan.

Now Trajan ruled from 98 to 117 ad. So it is now approaching seventy years after the events in the gospel and John is nearing the end of a long and fruitful ministry. We don’t know much more about him, except for one little story that somehow managed to survive through the generations and was recounted three centuries or so later by Jerome, the translator of the Bible into Latin. It runs like this:

The blessed John the Evangelist lived in Ephesus until extreme old age. His disciples could barely carry him to church and he could not muster the voice to speak many words. During individual gatherings he usually said nothing but, ‘Little children, love one another.’ The disciples and brothers in attendance, annoyed because they always heard the same words, finally said, ‘Teacher, why do you always say this?’ He replied with a line worthy of John: ‘Because it is the Lord's commandment and if it alone is kept, it is sufficient.’[2]

A word to all

Accurate or not, that little anecdote is certainly consistent with that we read in 1 John chapter 2 this morning. There we find John using his authority both as one who knew Jesus personally and as their long-term pastor to gently lay down the law with his congregation.

It was not as though he was coming up with anything new, says John. Indeed the commandment he was leaving with them was as old as Scripture itself, going right back to Moses. And it is this: “You shall love your neighbour as yourself.” (Leviticus 19:18)

Of course John had been present when Jesus cited it as one of the two great commandments (Matthew 22:37-40). But then John had been there again when Jesus upped the ante, when he raised the command to love to a whole new level. It was on the night before he was to give up his life for them on the cross that Jesus said to his followers, “A new commandment I give you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another. By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” (John 13:34-35)

What Jesus was challenging his disciples to, and what John was reminding his congregation of, was that the love to which Jesus calls us, the love that is to characterize the church, is not just a warm, fuzzy feeling. It is the love of which the apostle Paul wrote in 1 Corinthians 13: a love that is patient and kind; a love that does not envy or boast, that is not arrogant or rude; a love that does not insist on its own way; a love that is not irritable or resentful—a love that bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

You don’t have to think of it for long to realize that the Bible sets the bar pretty high for us! Yet all too often our love falls so far short of that. Sometimes it can be cool and formal at best. It’s great that we’ve adopted the practice of sharing the peace as a part of our worship, and that there are those who take the time and effort to make sure Sunday by Sunday that there is an opportunity for fellowship over a cup of coffee after the service. These are concrete expressions of the love that binds us together. And I know that that is just the tip of the iceberg, that both formally in our home groups and informally in other ways, again and again the love of Jesus is being demonstrated visibly and tangibly in our midst.

And that love is something we can never allow ourselves to take for granted. On the contrary, we need to treasure it and encourage it and to make every effort to ensure that it flourishes and deepens and grows. For it is fragile and it can all come tumbling down like a house of cards—sometimes over what are seemingly the tiniest of issues. And that is exactly what seems to have been happening in John’s congregation.

There is a part of me that is tempted to think that John addresses his readers as “children” because that was the way they were behaving. There were members who claimed to be living in the light of God’s love, yet within their hearts they were harbouring dark thoughts of bitterness and resentment towards their fellow believers. John does not reveal to us what the controversy was that sparked this state of affairs. Sometimes church squabbles can be triggered by the most insignificant of differences. Perhaps it was over the new colour of paint for the sanctuary. Or whether decaf should be served at coffee hour.

But then again there was a much deeper and more noble reason for John to call his congregation children. (By the way, he does it no fewer than thirteen times in the five chapters of this short letter.) His addressing them as such was not to demean or belittle them in any way. Rather, it was an expression of his deep and abiding affection for them, because spiritually they were his children. They had come to know God’s forgiveness through John’s proclamation of Christ and his blood shed on the cross. They had come into a personal relationship with him as their loving Father through John’s wise counsel. They had been born again, they had been nurtured and trained and helped to mature in their faith through John’s ministry.

A word to seniors

Yet although they had all of this in common, something was dividing them. And the fault line seems to have lain been between the older and the younger members of the congregation. So it is that John has two words of counsel for the “fathers”—for the senior members of the congregation and then another two for their juniors.

Speaking as a senior, I’m willing to admit that I can become set in my ways. It’s easy to slip into the habit of thinking that things were better the way they used to be, to long for the good old days. Yet that is a dangerous trap to fall into. Indeed, if we consider it for any length of time, we will likely come to the realization in most cases that the good old days weren’t really all that good after all, just different. And besides, it can be a dangerous thing to dwell in the past. Because in doing so, we stand a very good chance of missing the opportunities of the present.

One of the valuable lessons that I’m grateful I learned in the early days of my ministry was that there were women and men in the congregation whose perspectives and opinions I could value because they were able to take the long view of things. (Or as John puts it, they “know him who is from the beginning”.) They had lived through the high times and weathered the storms. They had seen fads that came and quickly faded away like the flowers of spring. But they also had the wisdom to recognize when God the Holy Spirit was leading us in new directions, to embark on new adventures—and perhaps to discard some of the things that had become hollow traditions, sometimes even impediments to the gospel.

I used to think of them privately as the wise old owls. And I don’t know what I, or we as a congregation, would have done without them. I continue to be humbled by their long-term commitment and service to Jesus and his church. And again and again I have found myself grateful both for their time-tested wisdom and also for their willingness to give the younger members of the congregation the rope and the freedom to try out new ideas, new approaches, and on some occasions to ward off disaster with some wise words of caution—and all without a hint of judgement or a critical spirit. How much we have to gain when we learn to listen with respect to the senior members of our congregation!

A word to the young

John’s words aren’t for the seniors only, however. He also has something to share with the younger members of the church. And by the way, John is not talking about the youth group here (although they too have important roles to play). The word John uses refers to those somewhere in the twenty-five- to forty-year-old bracket. These are people in the prime of life—people who are newly married, starting families, early in their careers.

It is all too easy for those important and significant commitments (commitments which I want to affirm are God-given) to mushroom and to consume all our time and resources, to the point where we have little energy left for anything else. (I don’t deny that embarking on a career and raising a family are hard work and take a lot of juggling!) Yet, as I have been grateful for the “wise old owls” I am also thankful to God for giving to me and to the churches where I have served those younger people who were willing to devote a significant portion of their time, their energy and their creativity to contribute and to follow through on fresh ideas and new directions given to them by the Holy Spirit.

Sometimes I find myself wondering why Jesus ever thought up the idea of the church. It can be so messy and complicated! Yet I thank God that over the years he has given me the opportunity to see that there is a riches when people from all different backgrounds and experiences, young and old, rich and poor, out of their common love for Jesus and energized by the Holy Spirit are committed to working together in the service of God’s kingdom.

My prayer is that we may be that kind of church. And indeed in many ways we are already that kind of church. We have old and young, students and retirees, young families and grandparents, single, married and widowed, ancestral Nova Scotians and newcomers from nearly a dozen different nations—all the ingredients for a powerful multi-generational, multinational witness here in Halifax. And so the question lies before us: Are we willing to lay aside our own agendas and follow God’s agenda—to use this wonderful variety he has given us, not to serve our own needs but to shine the light of Jesus into an increasingly dark and needy world?

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[1]     The Message, John 15:7

[2]     Commentary on Galatians, 6:10

Sermon – “Living In a Far From Perfect World” (1 Peter 2:18-25)

I suspect that a number of you have heard the old story of the young man who was desperately seeking God’s guidance for some crucial issue in his life. For some reason he decided that the best way forward might be simply to allow his Bible to fall open randomly and then follow the wisdom of whatever verse his eyes first fell upon.

So he let his Bible fall open. And much to his alarm the verse staring up at him was Matthew 27:5, where he read these words: “And throwing down the pieces of silver into the temple, he departed, and he went and hanged himself.” Well that certainly didn’t appeal to him, so he decided to try again. This time he came to Luke 10:37 – “You go, and do likewise.” Well, he thought to himself, maybe it’s third time lucky. So he riffled through the pages once more and what did his eyes land upon, but John 13:27 – “What you are going to do, do quickly.”

You don’t have to laugh, but I just wanted to illustrate a maxim that was drilled into me early in my Christian life by some of my fellow students in our Christian fellowship at university. It goes like this: A text without a context is a pretext.

I could name any number of clips from the Bible that have been misused because they have been quoted without any regard for the context in which they were originally written. And I confess to my shame that I am guilty of having done it on more than one occasion myself. But I say all of this because this morning we have come to a passage that has been one of the most egregiously misinterpreted in all of Scripture. And if you haven’t guessed it already, it is Peter’s words about slavery.

A couple of weeks ago in my own personal quiet time I was reading through Ephesians. There the apostle Paul also addresses slaves, and in terms not all that different from what we have read from Peter this morning. I must say that I was tremendously grateful for what the commentator had written in my study guide. He gave this warning: “This text should not be misused either to downplay the evil of slavery or, as has historically been the case, to support its horrors.”[1] A text without a context is a pretext.

The Sorrow of Injustice

So it is this morning that we find Peter addressing “servants” and calling upon them to be subject to their masters with all respect. The word translated “servants” in our Bibles in the original is oiketes. My Greek lectionary translates that term as a domestic or a house slave, or simply a slave. And in fact that is how the majority of contemporary English translations render this word: “slave”.

But whether the word means “servant” or “slave” is not the issue. The real tragedy is that passages like this, which can be found in both the Old and the New Testaments, have been used as a justification for slavery.

No less a figure than George Whitefield, who with Jonathan Edwards was one of the leaders of the First Great Awakening—that remarkable revival that swept across what is now the eastern United States in the early eighteenth century—was a leading proponent of slavery. As was Charles Hodge, principal of Princeton Theological Seminary and recognized as one of the greatest evangelical theologians of the nineteenth century. In fact, just a year before the outbreak of the American Civil War, Hodge could write in categorical terms, “If the present course of the abolitionists is right, then the course of Christ and the apostles was wrong.”[2]

But to go back to my daily devotional reading, here is more of what the author had to say:

Many times I have heard it said that the best way to understand [the Bible’s] words about slavery is to think about the modern workplace, so that the text becomes about respecting your boss … In the ancient world, slavery was common, as being employed is common today, but to compare the two in any way beyond this is wrong. Slavery meant you were owned by someone else, that your body was not yours and that you were not able to decide for yourself.

So what are we to take away from these words from Scripture? How are we to understand and apply them to our lives and in our world today?

First of all, we must remember that neither Peter nor the slaves to whom he wrote were in a position to do anything about their slavery. Although it had occurred a century and a half before, everybody knew about the revolt of 120,000 slaves that after a three-year struggle had been brutally put down by the Roman army. Of those who were not slaughtered in the conflict, more than 6,000 were crucified along the Appian Way.

Besides that, we need to recognize that you and I are in a position of privilege. We may face difficult circumstances at work—unreasonable bosses, excessive hours, dangerous conditions, the pressure to compromise our integrity, or a host of other unfavourable conditions, but the fact remains that we aren’t slaves.

Yet estimates are that there are well in excess of forty million men, women and children who are living in some form of enslavement in our world today—whether in forced labour on farms, in mines and in factories, in forced marriages, through child labour, through forced sexual exploitation or in still other variations. Think of it for a moment. Forty million: that’s the population of Canada. And the fact is that you and I benefit from their labours through the inexpensive produce and manufactured goods that are at our fingertips every day.

I am grateful to Jo Hockley, who a couple of weeks ago pointed me to a website called “Slavery Footprint”. I took their survey and discovered that by a conservative estimate my lifestyle depends on the labour of at least forty-eight slaves. Those slaves are invisible to me because they are working (or perhaps I should say overworked) often in dangerous and unhealthy conditions in mines and fields and sweatshops thousands of miles away. What is the solution to this? I confess that the problem is far too complex for me to make any recommendations, except at the very least to make ourselves aware of the extent of slavery still present in our world today and to be careful about what we purchase. And if you’d like some help with that, the website endslaverynow.org has 429 useful suggestions for you!

And let us not forget that we follow the one anointed by the Spirit of the Lord “to proclaim good news to the poor…, to proclaim liberty to the captives…, to set at liberty those who are oppressed…” (Luke 4:18)

The Suffering of Christ

So how are we to understand those words of Peter to slaves? The answer is to try to comprehend them not only in their historical context but equally, if not more importantly, in their biblical context. And that context is found in words that Peter would certainly have heard from Jesus himself: “But I say to you who hear, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. To one who strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also, and from one who takes away your cloak do not withhold your tunic  either… And as you wish that others would do to you, do so to them.” (Luke 6:27-28,31)

Peter had witnessed that lesson dramatically put into action by Jesus himself in the Garden of Gethsemane on the night before his crucifixion. You will remember how, when the soldiers had come to arrest Jesus, Peter drew out a sword in an attempt at bravado and slashed off the high priest’s servant’s ear—only to be met by Jesus’ stern rebuke, “Put your sword in its place, for all who take the sword will perish by the sword.” (John 18:10-11) At which point Jesus touched the servant’s ear and healed him.

Perhaps it shouldn’t surprise us, then, that at this point Peter’s thoughts turn to what took place on the day that followed. As he looked back across the space of a generation or more, I suspect that the events of that grim and fateful day were as clear in Peter’s mind as when they had first occurred. The heckling of the passers-by would still have echoed in his ears. He could still see the sadistic grins on the faces of the soldiers. And he could still feel the tears that trickled down the faces of Mary and the other women—and down his own too. And above it all he could hear the parched voice that cried out, “Father, forgive them…”

So we shouldn’t be too surprised when a generation later we find Peter writing, “For this is a gracious thing, when, mindful of God, one endures sorrows while suffering unjustly.” It is not an easy lesson to absorb, because it is counterintuitive. It goes against all our grain. It turns our natural sense of justice on its head. Yet it is the repeated experience of generation upon generation of Christian believers from Peter’s time right through to our own—somehow to meet abuse with grace, anger with gentleness, nastiness with love. I’m not going to say that people are necessarily going to change as a result (although perhaps by God’s grace some will), but regardless of their reaction we will be radiating the sweet aroma of Jesus.

The Sacrifice that Transforms Us

It was only later, during those forty days between Jesus’ resurrection and ascension, that Peter began to realize that Jesus’ suffering on the cross was more than just a terrible miscarriage of justice. Luke tells us it was then that Jesus “opened their minds to understand the Scriptures, and said to them, ‘Thus it is written, that the Christ should suffer and on the third day rise from the dead, and that repentance for the forgiveness of sins should be proclaimed in his name to all nations…’” (Luke 24:44-47)

So it was that in the space of a short seven weeks later Peter would be proclaiming, “Let all the house of Israel … know for certain that God has made him both Lord and Christ, this Jesus whom you crucified… Repent and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins…” (Acts 2:36,38) And so it is that we read this morning, “He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, that we might die to sin and live to righteousness. By his wounds you have been healed.”

It was at Calvary that Jesus took all the suffering, all the injustice, all the cruelty and evil of the world upon himself. And the power and effects of that sacrifice reach across the whole sweep of eternity to touch not only Peter and his readers but the likes of you and me today. The cross of Christ tells us like nothing else that you and I are loved—loved by none less than the God of the universe and of all eternity, and loved to the point where he would give his own Son to restore our relationship with him.

The cross frees us from the burden of thinking that somehow we need to earn our way into God’s good books (which is something we could never do in the first place). For through his cross Jesus has nullified both the curse and the power of sin over our lives.

When Jesus uttered those words, “It is finished,” we are told that the thick veil of the Temple was torn in two from top to bottom. It was a dramatic sign that the wall that our sins and waywardness had erected between us and God was demolished. The Good Shepherd had reclaimed his straying sheep to bring them home.

Well, that’s the big context of our passage this morning. May it cause us to rejoice in the freedom that we enjoy in our society, to pray and advocate and do what we can for those who still live in bondage today—and never to underestimate the price that Jesus has paid for your and my eternal freedom and for theirs.

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[1]     David Horsfall, “It is Not About Your Boss”, Ephesians 6:1-9, Scripture Union Encounter With God, 5 March 2024

[2]     Darius Jankiewicz, “Hermeneutics of Slavery”