In part 1, we thought about the perspective of the Roman soldiers - Jesus as irrelevant
In part 2, we thought about the perspective of Mary, Jesus's mother - Jesus as something we have been entrusted with, and the terror and grief of losing Him.
In part 3, we thought about the perspective of Pontias Pilate, the Roman governor, who wrestled with ambivalence about a potentially dangerous Jesus, who could bring changes he deeply feared.
In this final Easter post, we consider the perspective of Peter, the disciple, and the only person who is with Jesus throughout this story.
John 18
Jesus, having prayed this prayer, left with his disciples and crossed over the brook Kidron at a place where there was a garden. He and his disciples entered it.
2-4 Judas, his betrayer, knew the place because Jesus and his disciples went there often. So Judas led the way to the garden, and the Roman soldiers and police sent by the high priests and Pharisees followed. They arrived there with lanterns and torches and swords. Jesus, knowing by now everything that was coming down on him, went out and met them. He said, “Who are you after?”
They answered, “Jesus the Nazarene.”
5-6 He said, “That’s me.” The soldiers recoiled, totally taken aback. Judas, his betrayer, stood out like a sore thumb.
7 Jesus asked again, “Who are you after?”
They answered, “Jesus the Nazarene.”
8-9 “I told you,” said Jesus, “that’s me. I’m the one. So if it’s me you’re after, let these others go.” (This validated the words in his prayer, “I didn’t lose one of those you gave.”)
10 Just then Simon Peter, who was carrying a sword, pulled it from its sheath and struck the Chief Priest’s servant, cutting off his right ear. Malchus was the servant’s name.
11 Jesus ordered Peter, “Put back your sword. Do you think for a minute I’m not going to drink this cup the Father gave me?”
I always thought this was just Peter being impulsive and full of selective bravado. But lately I’ve come to see it differently. I wonder if Peter’s reaction here is about a more fundamental issue, one that is so central to our struggle as a community, and particularly as a community trying to live in missional or incarnational ways. You see, if I put myself in Peter’s shoes for a minute, I can see myself reacting the same way. Jesus had come to establish the reality of the kingdom of God on earth. Good things had happened. People had been healed. People had been raised from the dead. A new order was emerging, and though Peter, like us, probably didn’t fully grasp it, he likely had a least a small piece of it in his heart and in his mind. And they were just getting started. I’m sure Peter had aspirations for what Jesus would do in the next 10 years. Maybe the disciples had even formed a subcommittee to steer the ministry and make strategic plans, or maybe even written a mission statement. So when these religious elites come and try to take their leader away, is it really surprising that Peter uses his sword to try and stop it? Now you and I might see it as hubris for a man like Peter to think that he knows better than Jesus. I mean, the idea that God himself in the flesh needs defending, is rather laughable.
But maybe you can along with me, find yourself in this part of the story,…of thinking sometimes that God is wrong, that he’s not standing up for himself properly, and needs us to step in and save things.
Maybe you look at your life and think that somewhere along the line God has made a mistake, and that it’s up to you to correct it. Sometimes when we talk about being a “missional” church we can do the same thing. We can easily take on the mission and conform it to our own wishes and visions, losing sight of what God is doing.
Sometimes we make a subtle shift from being partners in God's mission, to taking on responsibility for making certain outcomes happen that we think God wants.
Peter, I think, had plans. And, I can see that if Jesus were beside me and doing amazing things in this world, and someone was trying to stop it and threaten its progress, I would step up to the plate and defend it.
But of course, He is. Jesus is beside me, and He is doing amazing things in this world, and sometimes, I try to be his holy bodyguard when it looks to me like things aren’t going as they should. How on earth could it be that Jesus getting falsely accused and crucified possibly be the will of God? We sometimes forget with 2000 years of hindsight and religious tradition, that to those who were watching, this was the most catastrophic thing that could happen.
And perhaps you find yourself exactly there in the story.
Maybe your life has had a tragedy, or you’ve been a witness to evil in the
world, and your heart aches, and your mind wonders, "how could God let this
happen?" Even Jesus himself wonders aloud on the cross, “my God, why have you
forsaken me”. And maybe people have come to you like Job’s friends and
tried to give you explanations for your suffering, but they have never helped,
and never really felt like answers. Maybe like Peter, it seems impossible that
Jesus being tortured and killed could be a good thing, and you’re ready to draw
your sword and fight.
I think we all have these times in our lives, whether they be personal tragedies, or stories we just witness in the lives of others.
I think we all have these times in our lives, whether they be personal tragedies, or stories we just witness in the lives of others.
But on resurrection Sunday there is another part of the story that we celebrate. This empty tomb that says throughout human history, “even the worst
possible thing can be redeemed”.
So before we go about righting the wrongs of the world with personal power and swords, we learn from Peter to remember that we are at most, God's partners, and that we don't need to take over or even be responsible for fixing what may only appear to be things gone terribly wrong.
So before we go about righting the wrongs of the world with personal power and swords, we learn from Peter to remember that we are at most, God's partners, and that we don't need to take over or even be responsible for fixing what may only appear to be things gone terribly wrong.
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