God on Trial: Testimony

Matthew 26:57-75

57 Those who had arrested Jesus took him to Caiaphas the high priest, where the teachers of the law and the elders had assembled. 58 But Peter followed him at a distance, right up to the courtyard of the high priest. He entered and sat down with the guards to see the outcome.

59 The chief priests and the whole Sanhedrin were looking for false evidence against Jesus so that they could put him to death. 60 But they did not find any, though many false witnesses came forward.

Finally two came forward 61 and declared, “This fellow said, ‘I am able to destroy the temple of God and rebuild it in three days.’”

62 Then the high priest stood up and said to Jesus, “Are you not going to answer? What is this testimony that these men are bringing against you?” 63 But Jesus remained silent.

The high priest said to him, “I charge you under oath by the living God: Tell us if you are the Messiah, the Son of God.”

64 “You have said so,” Jesus replied. “But I say to all of you: From now on you will see the Son of Man sitting at the right hand of the Mighty One and coming on the clouds of heaven.”

65 Then the high priest tore his clothes and said, “He has spoken blasphemy! Why do we need any more witnesses? Look, now you have heard the blasphemy. 66 What do you think?”

“He is worthy of death,” they answered.

67 Then they spit in his face and struck him with their fists. Others slapped him 68 and said, “Prophesy to us, Messiah. Who hit you?”

69 Now Peter was sitting out in the courtyard, and a servant girl came to him. “You also were with Jesus of Galilee,” she said.

70 But he denied it before them all. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.

71 Then he went out to the gateway, where another servant girl saw him and said to the people there, “This fellow was with Jesus of Nazareth.”

72 He denied it again, with an oath: “I don’t know the man!”

73 After a little while, those standing there went up to Peter and said, “Surely you are one of them; your accent gives you away.”

74 Then he began to call down curses, and he swore to them, “I don’t know the man!”

Immediately a rooster crowed. 75 Then Peter remembered the word Jesus had spoken: “Before the rooster crows, you will disown me three times.” And he went outside and wept bitterly.

God on Trial: Testimony

A man from Galilee stands in Jerusalem surrounded by a hostile crowd. They set upon him, questioning who he is. They accuse him. They put him on trial. What will he say?

While that’s happening to Peter in the courtyard outside the high priest’s house, a very similar scene is playing out inside to Jesus. As the gospel writer Matthew sets these scenes side by side for us, these two men lead us to consider our testimony when the world puts us on trial.

Let’s start with the man inside. The teacher from Galilee knew this moment was coming. It was on his mind as he prayed in Gethsemane a few hours earlier. He saw it drawing near when he willingly went with the mob that arrested him. It was ordained from before time began that God would stand on trial before the Sanhedrin in the wee hours of that Friday morning.

Trial is a generous term. Kangaroo court is more like it. A parade of liars all take turns on the stand but can’t get the story straight. The only accusation with any merit is something Jesus actually said, a promise of his resurrection on the third day that the liars didn’t understand. Jesus refuses to be drawn into the foolishness; he will not dignify their lies with a response. But he won’t fail to confess who he is. When the high priest puts him under oath and asks if he is the Son of God, he stands firm and calmly and confidently confesses the truth, “I am!”

Now to the man outside. The fisherman from Galilee had been warned that this moment would come. Jesus had predicted it earlier that evening, but Peter brushed the warning aside. The pressure starts with a servant girl: “You were with Jesus too.” “No,” he says and tries to sneak away. Then another servant girl says the same, and other bystanders join in. “Sure, you’re one of his. Your accent gives it away.” Peter puts himself under oath and calls down curses, “I am not!”

What was Peter afraid of? Let’s be fair. We could exaggerate and contrast Jesus boldly confessing before powerful, violent men with Peter melting at a servant girl’s question. But Matthew tells us that guards were sitting in the courtyard too (Matthew 26:58). Every voice accusing Peter raised the risk that the guards would notice and arrest him, just like they had arrested Jesus. That’s not nothing. Still, Peter’s denial outside the courtroom was false testimony just as wicked as the lies of the witnesses inside.

What are you afraid of? I think you know how it feels to be surrounded by hostile voices. To feel cornered by a question about your connection to Jesus. Maybe you feel that when you’re with your friends and they ask why you don’t do what they do, what everyone else does, and you try hard to find excuses that they’ll accept. You feel that when people at work start talking about others behind their backs and instead of standing up for them, you look for your chance to slip away. Or when someone you know asks why you believe what you believe and your first thought is to change the subject as fast as you can.

What are you afraid of? Being considered weird? Losing street cred? Getting laughed at? Certainly not being arrested for your faith, at least not in this country today! We melt under far less pressure than what Peter felt. But let’s be fair: The pressure is still real. The fear of losing a friendship, being singled out, being looked down on—those are real fears of real loss. I’m not asking what you’re afraid of as if to say, “Toughen up. It’s not so bad.” Being associated with Jesus can bring real pain. But not being associated with Jesus . . . wouldn’t that be worse? What’s scarier: the thought of suffering with Jesus now or the thought of suffering apart from him for eternity? In a moment of pressure, we might think we’re better off not being counted as disciples of Jesus. That certainly won’t be the case when he comes in glory on the clouds!

I wish I could have seen Jesus’ face. Matthew doesn’t record this detail, but Luke does: When the rooster crowed, “the Lord turned and looked straight at Peter” (Luke 22:61). What was on his face? Disappointment? Sadness? Blood and spit? Love that Peter knew he didn’t deserve? Whatever it was, it prompted Peter to run away and weep.

I can imagine the face. I’ve seen one like it on my parents and teachers when I buckled under pressure and did what I knew was wrong, something I had been warned about. I’ve imagined it on my Savior those many times I tried my hardest to distance myself from him because in the moment, it wasn’t convenient to be considered his disciple. Like Peter, I too have every reason to weep.

But let’s not run away from that face. Jesus would have you stay and look. Whatever is on that face, it is calling you back to him. Even when you fail to claim Jesus, he still wants to claim you. He shows you his bruises and blood not to shame you but to reveal how much he loves you. What abuse he absorbs for you! This is the Son of God, who answers to no one yet stands trial and suffers to save you.

Stay and look . . . and listen. Listen to Jesus’ testimony about himself. He says he is the Messiah. He is God’s Anointed One, the one chosen to take your place. You have been connected to him through Baptism, which means that what he does before the high priest counts for you. For all the times you’ve kept silent or tried to sneak away, he stands and confesses as though he were you. That man is you as you should have been!

Keep listening. Just hours away from the depths of his humiliation, Jesus quotes Daniel’s prophecy about the Messiah’s glory. Jesus’ words were true. The one who was battered and bloodied now sits at the right hand of the almighty God. The one who once stood on trial before sinners will come on the clouds as judge, condemning those who stood against him and rescuing the faithful who, purely by his power and grace, stand with him.

That is also what I mean when I say, “What are you afraid of?” Should we be afraid to say, “That King of kings—yes, I’m with him”? How could we be embarrassed to admit that we love the one who loved us and suffered and died to make us his? Do we have anything to fear if we stand on the side of the Ruler over all the earth who promises to work all things for our good?

Maybe part of the challenge is that we get caught off guard: We’re just going about our business and suddenly we’re thrust into the witness stand. But we shouldn’t be surprised. Just as Jesus warned Peter, he also warns us: We will face tough questions. We’ll be put on trial in the court of public opinion. We’ll be singled out for our connection to Jesus. And that’s a good thing! Consider it a gift to be associated with Jesus like that.

And consider it an opportunity too. Peter learned this lesson. Years later, Peter wrote a letter to some Christians who stood out from the society around them—citizens who honored their government, slaves who obeyed their masters, wives who submitted to their husbands, husbands who were considerate of their wives, believers who were willing to suffer for doing good. People would ask them, “What makes you different?” And Peter encouraged them learn from his mistake – to be ready at anytime, anywhere to give a reason for their hope in Jesus.

Friends, I hope your Christian accent gives you away! I hope people notice that we disciples of Jesus speak and act differently—like him. May we be so blessed as to have people accuse us of being with Jesus! Sometimes that will mean hardship, but I can think of no higher honor. Often it will mean the chance to point others to that same loving face; to tell them about that man from Galilee, the Son of God and Son of Man, the Messiah, who came for us and will come again. That’s our testimony! Amen.

God on Trial: Restraint

Luke 22:47-53

47 While he was still speaking a crowd came up, and the man who was called Judas, one of the Twelve, was leading them. He approached Jesus to kiss him, 48 but Jesus asked him, “Judas, are you betraying the Son of Man with a kiss?”

49 When Jesus’ followers saw what was going to happen, they said, “Lord, should we strike with our swords?” 50 And one of them struck the servant of the high priest, cutting off his right ear.

51 But Jesus answered, “No more of this!” And he touched the man’s ear and healed him.

52 Then Jesus said to the chief priests, the officers of the temple guard, and the elders, who had come for him, “Am I leading a rebellion, that you have come with swords and clubs? 53 Every day I was with you in the temple courts, and you did not lay a hand on me. But this is your hour—when darkness reigns.”

God on Trial: Restraint

You feel the pressure build in your chest. Heart rate, blood pressure, and body temperature rise. Respiration and perspiration increase. You’ve been wronged! And you want to do something about it—right now. What do you do?

On Thursday of Holy Week, Jesus and his disciples gathered in an upper room in Jerusalem. He told them he was about to be treated like a criminal. He also warned them that their lives and ministries were going to become more difficult. In the past, they had been welcomed into homes and accepted by people. From now on, they would face hostility.

It didn’t take long for the disciples to get their first taste.

When the Passover meal was over, Jesus led his disciples out to the Garden of Gethsemane. You’ve heard what happened. A detachment of soldiers, guided by the Jewish leaders and led by Judas, came to arrest Jesus. The disciples were ready for action. Peter swung his sword and severed an ear. But Jesus rebuked them: “No more of this!” (Luke 22:51). And he healed the man’s ear.

Jesus had done nothing wrong. And as he declared to the mob, he certainly wasn’t engaging in the kind of violent insurrection that would call for a detachment of armed soldiers. If he had been guilty of some lesser misdemeanor, his enemies could have arrested him easily out in public on many occasions. But Jesus knew they had arrived under cover of darkness because they had no legitimate case against him. This was mob justice, bribery, and collusion at its worst. It was completely unfair.

What did Jesus do?

A man who can heal a severed ear has plenty of options in a situation like this. With one word, Jesus could have called down a legion of angels to defend him. John’s account tells us that when the mob asked for Jesus and he said, “I am he,” they all drew back and fell to the ground (John 18:6). With another word, Jesus certainly could have gotten rid of them forever.

But Jesus didn’t. Instead, he healed a man who had come to detain him. He exercised restraint—perfect, holy restraint—for us.

Restraint is the ability to hold back. It’s an aspect of self-control, and it’s not easy—especially in circumstances when you feel wronged. How do you respond to unwarranted criticism? What’s your first reaction when someone accuses you of doing something you didn’t do? Or when people aren’t listening or things aren’t going your way?

Restraint is not typically our first inclination. Why is it so difficult? Because we tend to think of ourselves first: “How did this hurt me? What did I do to deserve this? Why didn’t they think of my needs and how this would make me feel?” It’s about our pride, our dignity, our sense of justice. We feel like we’re on trial: we feel defensive—that we need to defend ourselves.

So the pressure builds—along with our heart rate and blood pressure. All we can think about is that we want to get rid of that feeling—wanting whatever we think will make us feel better. Maybe we don’t swing a sword, but we lash out with our tongues. We fire off an angry text or e-mail. We give a glare. We fight back. We sin.

Jesus says, “No more of this!”

Then he heals.

Look at Jesus. He was not thinking about himself. He was not thinking about the fact that he had done absolutely nothing to deserve this or about what would make him feel better. No, he looked at this man bleeding from the place where his ear used to be. Jesus saw him not as an enemy to be defeated but as a man with a soul and a name—Malchus, John tells us. In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus had said, “Love your enemies.” Now he showed his disciples—and us—what that looks like.

No, Jesus wasn’t thinking of himself. He was thinking of you. The path to your salvation began with his surrender to this unholy mob in the garden.

Restraint is a theme in Jesus’ passion. He stood in the garden as the perfect Lamb of God, the servant who never opened his mouth to hurt or raised his hand to harm but gave himself over willingly. His restraint was on display as he stood on trial before Caiaphas, Herod, Pilate, and their factions. They taunted, ridiculed, spat, struck, and scourged—and Jesus never once lashed out, lost his temper, or called down curses from heaven. Even as they nailed him to the cross, there was loving restraint: “Father, forgive them” (Luke 23:34).

We need this Jesus as our Savior. We need his quiet and purposeful obedience to his Father’s will. We need his perfection, his holiness, and his righteousness to be able to stand before our Father, and that’s exactly what Jesus came to give us by dying on the cross and rising from the dead.

We need his example too.

We live in a world where the quick comeback, the zinger response, and the demeaning answer are rewarded both in real life and online. Talk shows and news channels thrive on inflammatory reports to gain more viewers and secure a loyal audience. Social media algorithms target our sense of indignation to get us to engage. When we live in a world like this, it can rub off on us. We begin to think that if we don’t respond with the same level of venom, no one will listen. Thinking of the other person becomes far less important than making sure we are heard.

What if we did something different?

A young man in his 20s was shot and spent months in a coma on life support before he died. A small group gathered at an old Lutheran church for his Christian funeral. It was time for the service to start, but his mom wasn’t there yet. Finally, those in attendance heard screaming in the back of the church. It was the mother, hysterically yelling at her daughter and other family members. She was swinging her arms, threatening them, and calling them killers and murderers for making the choice to take her son off of life support, even though he had no chance of survival. Still screaming and threatening, she ran to the front of the church and fell on the casket. When the funeral directors came to close the casket, she began hitting them. After what seemed like an eternity for those present, she ran outside to the hearse—still screaming and crying and threatening. As she stood near the hearse, an attendee who didn’t even know the mom walked up and gave her a hug. The woman whispered, “It was an honor to know your son. He was a good kid. It was a privilege to know him.” The mom’s shoulders dropped, and her demeanor immediately changed. For the first time in a long time, there was quiet. Then another woman walked up and did the same. And there was grace. There was Christian love and restraint. That quiet act said more than all the screaming that preceded it.

Imagine the impact you can have in this overcharged world where restraint is a lost art. You know Jesus. You know the one who showed love and restraint all the way to his sacrificial death on the cross for sinners like us. You know Jesus who is in control of all things, working them for the good of his people. This means you can be different. You, we, all of us can use our words to heal and help instead of to inflame and destroy. We can think of the hurt others feel rather than the hurt they have caused us. We can respond graciously and not impulsively when we are provoked by those around us.

Behavior like this may be interpreted by some as weakness, but in fact it takes strength. It takes willpower so strong that it can only come from a Savior who has walked the path before us. In the garden, Jesus’ power was seen in his miraculous healing, but his strength was seen in his restraint. The world would say he had the right to fight back. There was no question he was wronged! But he set aside justice for himself out of love for us. What do you think Malchus thought of Jesus from that moment on?

When you are wronged, remember that you operate from a position of strength. God has declared you righteous and forgiven; you don’t have to prove anything. His plan will prevail; you don’t have to be in control. His Spirit fills you; you don’t stand alone. You can be a light in this world where darkness reigns. Instead of fighting back, you can swing the sword of the Spirit—the gospel of Jesus. And maybe through your strange behavior and the message behind it, others will come to know Jesus’ love. Amen.

Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace. Amen. (Colossians 3:15)