“Two Narratives, One Great Finale” (Acts 12:1-24)

Herod and Peter

Stars shine brightest in the darkest night. In the same way, the power of the gospel shines brightest in life’s darkest times.

At the beginning of Acts 12, King Herod seems invincible. He had James, John’s brother, killed with a sword. His approval ratings with the Jews sored, so he also arrested Peter. He was planning to execute him publicly after Passover.

At the beginning of the chapter, Peter seems hopeless. His close friend, James, was murdered. Now he himself is in prison, facing certain death. From a human perspective, this looks like a dead end – no possibility of escape. Yet even in this “no-hope” situation, God is still at work. God is still in charge.

 

Everything Is against Me!

When trials come, we often face two narratives: our perspective and God’s perspective. When things go wrong, our default perspective is, “Everything is against me!” Actually, this is an exact quote from Jacob’s lament in Genesis 42. His words come after the loss of his son Joseph, Simeon’s hostage, and the threat of losing Benjamin. Jacob is overwhelmed by layer upon layer of loss, exclaiming, “Joseph is no more, Simeon is no more, and now you want to take Benjamin. Everything is against me!” (v. 36)

 

Everything Is for Good!

From Jacob’s perspective, the world was collapsing. No hope. No way out. But from God’s perspective, a greater story was unfolding. Jospeh, long thought dead, was still alive and preparing to save his family and even nations. Even when circumstances feel stacked against us, God is still tirelessly at work behind the scenes. Jacob saw only loss, but God was preparing great family reunion. Jacob feared famine and uncertainty, but God was preparing salvation.

So when we cry out like Jacob, “Everything is against me!” we are invited to trust God’s character: “God causes everything to work together for good.” (Romans 8:28) And if God is for us, who can be against us?” (v. 31)

 

Sole Foundation

But how do we know God is for us, not against us? On what foundation can we make this bold claim? Paul gives the answer: “God didn’t spare his own Son but gave him up for us all. Will he not also freely give us all things with him?” (v. 32)

So when you feel like everything is against you, or when the enemy whispers, “You’re not worthy,” lift up your eyes and look to the cross. Christ Jesus died for us. It is finished. More than that, he was raised to life for us. Jesus’ resurrection is the proof that he was innocent and the assurance that he will also raise his people. In this broken world, death feels like a natural part of life. But when God created the world, it was never meant to be this way. By his resurrection, Christ conquered the power of death. George Herbert put it beautifully, “Death used to be an executioner, but the resurrection of Christ makes him just a gardener.” Death no longer has the final word. Jesus does. His church will prevail, and his people will reign with him forever. In him, we already have the final victory.

 

Suffering and Grace

Peter himself was once fearful and anxious. He loved Jesus and promised to die with him. He did mean it with all his heart. But when he was challenged by the crowd, “You are one of them,” he didn’t have power to stand. Peter denied Jesus three times when tested. But now, look at him in Acts 12! Surrounded by guards, chained in prison, facing execution, he is calmy asleep (v. 6).

This echoes David’s words in Psalm 3:5, “I lie down and sleep; I wake again, because the Lord sustains me” (Psalm 3:5). David said this while fleeing from his son Absalom. How could he rest in such danger? As a prophet as well as a king, he saw and trusted in the Messiah to come – the Suffering Servant and the Risen Christ. How could Peter rest in such uncertainty? Because he had met the risen Christ, Conqueror of Death, and received the Holy Spirit. Now he too could say, “I will not fear though thousands surround me!”

The story of John G. Paton, missionary to the New Hebrides, illustrates the same truth. One night hostile tribes surrounded his home, ready to kill him and his wife. They prayed through all night, and at dawn the attackers suddenly left. Later, a tribal chief who had come to Christ asked Paton, “Who were the hundreds of men with shining garments and drawn swords guarding your house that night?” Paton realized God had sent his angels to protect them. Yet Paton also knew deep suffering and sorrow. Early in his ministry, his wife and newborn child both died. He buried them with his own hands. But still, he testified, “I was never altogether forsaken. The ever-merciful God sustained me… But for Jesus, and the fellowship he gave me there, I would have gone mad and died beside that lonely grave!”[1]

Suffering and grace often walk hand in hand. Whether it is wayward children, persecution, disease, loneliness, depression, grief, or even death – whatever the trial – God’s grace is always greater. The risen Jesus was with Peter in prison, with David in exile, with Paton in grief—and He is with us today. Christ alone is our sure foundation.

 

One Great Finale

During the plagues of the Roman Empire, streets were filled with the dying. Many abandoned their loved ones. Bodies were left unburied. Most people fled for their safety. But Christians did something radically different: they stayed. Instead of fleeing, they nursed the sick, fed the hungry, buried the dead, and even died alongside them. This sacrificial, fearless love became a powerful witness. While everyone else saw only despair, the Christians revealed a resurrection hope stronger than death, drawing many to Christ.  

Acts 12 ends with a great reversal. Herod begins with in power but dies in disgrace. Peter begins in chains but walks free. And the final word is this: “The word of God continued to spread and flourish.” (v. 24)

Today, we too may walk through the valley of the shadow of death. But it’s only a shadow. Christ Jesus faced death itself and conquered it once and for all: “Death has been swallowed up by a victory.” Now we know how the story ends. We already have the final victory. With full confidence, we can declare, “Thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ!” (1 Cor 15:57) Because Christ is risen, because Christ will raise us, because Christ holds the finale, we can hold fast. “Therefore, brothers and sisters, let us stand firm, unshakable, always excelling in the work of the Lord.” Amen.

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[1] Ajith Fernando, Acts (The NIV Application Commentary Book 5) (p. 323). Zondervan Academic. Kindle Edition.

“The Great Encourager” (Acts 11:19-26)

 

*Christ at the Sea of Galilee by Jacopo Tintoretto (1570s)

Encouragement

Encouragement is empowering. This past Thursday was a sports day for the Han family. First, we all went up to Caribou to cheer for Grace at her cross-country meet. The weather was hot, and the course was challenging – especially the big hill at the end. As Grace was running up the hill, a Woodland runner passed her. All the GHCA team and families, and our family, cheered for Grace. Though she was passed, Grace came back strong and won her race. Then, we moved on to Washburn to cheer for Lydia’s and Abe’s soccer games. As I was watching the game, one of the parents said to me, “I’ve watched all of the boy’s games so far. Abe had been kind of timid and gentle. But today, he is aggressive and playing so well.” That’s the power of encouragement. In fact, encouragement is one of the spiritual gifts. Paul writes in Romans 12:8, “If your gift is to encourage others, be encouraging” (NLT).

 

Son of Encouragement

Probably, Barnabas is the shining example of someone who used the gift of encouragement so well. His real name was Joseph, but the apostles nicknamed him “Barnabas” meaning, “Son of Encouragement” (Acts 4:36). He was known for comforting and helping others.

After Saul encountered the risen Christ and arrived in Jerusalem, he tried to join the disciples, but they were all afraid of him. They didn’t believe he was really a disciple. But it was Barnabas who believed in him, advocated for him, and helped him to join the early Christian group. Saul passionately preached the good news, but wherever he went, he was not well received. Instead, people tried to kill him. So then, his friends took him to Caesarea and sent him to his hometown of Tarsus (9:30). Saul stayed there for about 10 years. They are often called Saul’s “silent years.”

It seemed he was forgotten, and his life was wasted. But then, some of the scattered Christians began to preach the good news in Antioch. Many people came to believe and turned to the Lord. The early church sent Barnabas to help this newborn church. Barnabas realized that the task was so big that he needed capable help. So he took a trip of about a hundred miles to recruit Saul (11:25–26). Saul was probably more talented and educated than Barnabas. By bringing Saul, he was seriously jeopardizing his own leadership position. Yet at the expense of his prominence, Barnabas encouraged Saul to use his gifts to build up the church. Over time, Barnabas’ presence decreased, and Saul’s influence increased.

 

The Great Encourager

Today’s scripture, the story of Barnabas, is not just a moral lesson or a role model. His story points to the perfect and greater Encourager, Christ Jesus. In 1570s, Jacopo Tintoretto painted his masterpiece, Christ at the Sea of Galilee.

Tintoretto captures the dramatic moment when the disciples are caught in a storm. The waves are crashing, the boat is tossed, and fear is overwhelming. Peter, by faith, steps out of the boat to walk toward Jesus. But then, he sees the wind and the waves, and his courage fails. He begins to sink.

This is the cry of Psalm 69:1: “Save me, O God, because the waters have come up to my neck!” Peter feels that desperation, drowning, helpless, lost. And yet, Jesus immediately reaches out, lifts him up, and brings him back to life. But here is the deeper truth: when Jesus stretched out his hand to Peter, it foreshadowed what he himself would later endure. Jesus would not just taste the spray of the storm. He would taste death itself. He went under the waves of judgment so that we might rise. He sank into the depths so that we might stand on solid ground.

Barnabas encouraged Saul by stepping aside so his gifts could shine. But Christ is the greater Barnabas, the greater Encourager, who goes even further. He takes our place in the storm, lifting us up when we are sinking at the cost of His own life. That’s why the gospel is about Christ – who he is and what he did.

 

O My Soul!

So how can we experience Christ, the Great Encourager, in our own lives? Psalm 42 and 43 give us the answer (Today’s Call to Worship). These psalms were written by the sons of Korah, the very descendants of a man who rebelled against Moses and was swallowed by the earth in God’s judgment (Numbers 26). Yet in mercy, God spared his children, restored them, and even raised them up to be worship leaders in Israel. Still, they carried the stigma from their past. People mocked them: “Where is your God?” Their souls were divided—hope pulling one way, despair pulling the other. And isn’t that our story too? Many of us know spiritual depression not just because of present troubles, but also because of guilt from the past—voices of shame, regret, or failure that haunt us.

What is the cure? The psalmist shows us: stop only listening to your soul; and instead, start speaking to it. Pray honestly, “Vindicate me, O God!” (cf. Psalm 43:1-4) Then preach courageously to your soul (v. 5), “Why are you downcast, O my soul? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God.” This is how we taste and see the goodness of Christ the Great Encourager—by lifting His Word, His Promise, to our own hearts until despair gives way to hope.

 

The Way Out

Let me close with a story from The Pilgrim’s Progress. Christian and his friend Hopeful were on their way to the Celestial City. The narrow road was hard, so they decided to take a parallel path—an easier way, with fewer hardships. But that shortcut led them into terrible danger. They met a storm, then they lost their way, and finally they were captured by Giant Despair and thrown into Doubting Castle. For three long days, they were locked away—hungry, thirsty, beaten without mercy. The giant whispered lies to them, urging them to give up, even to take their own lives. He showed them the bones and skulls of others who had done so.

But on Saturday night, while praying, Christian suddenly remembered something. He had forgotten the key in his pocket all along. The key’s name was Promise. With it, he unlocked the doors of Doubting Castle, and he and Hopeful were able to escape.

I don’t know about you, but for me, I often find myself in the prison of despair – weary, discouraged, ready to give up. But in Christ, we have a key in our pocket. It is God’s promises. When we believe and peach His Word to our own souls, the chains of despair are broken and hope rises again.

So let us preach to our souls, as the psalmist did: “Why are you downcast, O my soul? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise Him, my Savior and my God.” (Psalm 43:5)

“Way Up, Way Down” (Acts 11:1-18)

 

*Crucifixion, by Matthias Grünewald (1515)

Babette’s Feast

Have you ever been invited to an extravagant feast – one you never expected? There is a beautiful Danish film called Babette’s Feast. Some of you may have seen it. It tells the story of Babette, once the head chef at a first-class restaurant in Paris, who fled as a refugee during the Franco-Prussian War. She found herself in a small, strict religious community. She served quietly for 14 years, caring for two elderly sisters, who were serving the small congregation, even after their father had passed away. The community was struggling—divisions and old grudges ran deep. Then one day, Babette won the lottery: 10,000 francs. She decided to prepare a feast for the sisters and their small flock in memory of their father’s 100th birthday. She offered to pay for all the cost of a “real French dinner.”

But the people were suspicious, even critical. They feared her French cooking might be worldly, even dangerous. But still, Babette went on quietly, pouring out her life, her money, her skill, her love into this one meal. And when the feast was served, something beautiful happened. As the people ate, old grudges softened. Forgiveness began to flow. Joy and laughter filled the room. The people, who were once cold and divided, became warm and united. At the end, the sisters assumed Babette would return to Paris with her winnings. But she revealed that she had spent everything—every franc—for this one feast. She had given her all to bless those who had misunderstood, doubted, even despised her. Does that sound familiar?

 

Jesus, Our Servant
This is exactly what Jesus has done for us. On the night he was betrayed, Jesus took bread and said, “This is my body, given for you.” He took the cup and said, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood, poured out for you.” He poured out his life completely. Not just for those who praised him, but for those who rejected him. Think about how Jesus was treated. He was constantly criticized, slandered, and hated by many. People were suspicious of his motives. He was doubted, even by his own disciples. And yet, he kept serving. He kept giving. He kept loving. The Bible says, “Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end” (John 13:1, NRSV). At the cross, Jesus gave it all. He lavishly poured out his very life, like Babette pouring out everything she had for a feast.

Misunderstood Servant

In Acts 11, Peter is misunderstood by his own people – the other apostles and believers. After visiting Cornelius’ house, they accused him, saying, “You went into the home of the uncircumcised and ate with them!” (Acts 11:3).

Do you remember Peter on the night Jesus was betrayed? People accused him of being with Jesus, and out of fear he denied it, even cursing. But here in Acts, Peter is different. He is calm, steady, patient—because he has become a true servant of Christ.

 

The Incarnation

When we hear the word, “incarnation” (God made flesh), we often imagine Baby Jesus lying peacefully in a manger. But the truth is, incarnation is costly and violent. For example, Philippians 2 tells us that Jesus, the Son of God, emptied himself, took the form of a slave, and died a criminal’s death on the cross.

Imagine being a free person suddenly kidnapped, sold into slavery, beaten, abused. Or imagine being innocent, yet wrongfully accused of murder, thrown in prison, and executed on death row. That’s the reality of the incarnation –except that Jesus chose it willingly. All his divine privileges were taken away. His freedom was taken away. His joy was taken away. He emptied himself, came down to the lowest place, and became the servant of all.

 

The Way Up Is Down

Jesus’ incarnation shows us how to live as his disciples: “The way up is the way down.” In his sermon, Jesus Our Servant, Pastor Tim Keller once said, “The real test of discipleship is whether the same spirit of servanthood that was in Christ now lives in us.” Especially two examples from his sermon speak to me. First, in our giving. Before I knew Christ, I gave only what I could “afford” – as long as my standard of living stayed the same. As long as it didn’t affect my vacation plans, or my meals out, or my comfort. But that’s not the way of Jesus. His “standard of living” changed drastically when he emptied himself for us. True servanthood means giving in a way that lowers me so someone else can be lifted up. If my giving never brings me down, I am not a servant yet.

Second, in how we handle recognition. Before Christ changes us, we serve as long as we get recognition, as long as people notice, appreciate, and affirm us. But Jesus made himself of no reputation. He didn’t serve for applause. A true servant doesn’t say, “Look how much I’ve done—why doesn’t anyone notice?” Instead, a true servant finds joy in serving unseen, because God sees. This is the way of Christ: the way up is the way down. And the more we follow him in this downward path, the more we find life, freedom, and joy.

 

Taking the Hit

Let me put it another way. When I ask my children to clean up their mess, they usually do it. But when I ask one of them to clean up a sibling’s mess, they protest, “Why should? It’s not my fault!” This is an instinct. This is exactly how we always feel. But that’s not how a servant’s heart operates. The servants say, “I know, this isn’t my fault. But someone has to take the hit. So I will do it. I will take the hit. I will pay the price.” That’s what Jesus did. He took the greatest hit for the sins of the world.

In 1515, Matthias Grünewald painted the Crucifixion. It was painted for a hospital, for people who were dying from a terrible plague called ergotism. This disease brought unbearable suffering—painful seizures, violent spasms, constant diarrhea, relentless vomiting. Many people died in agony, with their bodies twisted and broken. And in this painting, the Christ figure is depicted as if he too were stricken with this disease. His limbs are distorted and twisted. The artist wanted those suffering to see: Jesus suffers with you, and Jesus suffers for you. To Christ’s left, John the Baptist stands, pointing his long finger toward the crucified Lord, as if to say, “Look, here is the One.” In his other hand he holds an open book, a witness that all of this is the fulfillment of God’s Word. And at John’s feet stands a lamb carrying a cross—an echo of John’s own words: “Behold the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.”[1] This is the good news. Jesus entered into our deepest pain, bore the weight of our sin and suffering, and made it his own.

 

Easy Yoke

In Acts 11, Peter is misunderstood and criticized. But after explaining what happened, the misunderstanding is cleared up. The people calm down and praise God. When Abraham was tested to offer his only Son Isaac, the suffering was real and severe. But at the last moment, Isaac’s life was spared, and a lamb was given in his place. But for Jesus, there was no substitute. All the weight of our sins fell upon him. He got the greatest hit. And on the cross, he declared, “It is finished.” So, stop striving, and start believing in the finished work of Christ.

The heart of the gospel message is substitution – Jesus did it for us. “He was pierced for our rebellion, crushed for our sins. He was beaten so we could be whole. He was whipped so we could be healed. All of us, like sheep, have strayed away. We have left God’s paths to follow our own. Yet the Lord laid on him the sins of us all.” (Isaiah 53:5-6, NLT)

Are you weary and burdened? Come to Jesus. He invites us to take his “easy” yoke (Matthew 11:30). Do you know why his yoke is easy? Because he shares the yoke with us. In fact, he takes most of the weight. Our part is to join him, to walk with him by faith. Paul put it this way: “I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.” (Gal 2:20, NIV)

Friends, this is the gospel: the way up is the way down. As we go down in repentance, go down in our bank accounts, go down in recognition, we will find a new kind of honor, a new kind of riches, a new kind of joy. Amen.

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[1] Christian Century, Art selection and commentary by Heidi J. Hornik and Mikeal C. Parsons

This artwork appears in the January 4, 2017 issue. https://www.christiancentury.org/article/crucifixion-matthias-gr%C3%BCnewald?check_logged_in=1

“Simple Faith” (Acts 10:1–16)

 

Simple Message
“What’s wrong with the world today?” In the early 1900s, The Times of London posed this big question to several well-known writers. Some gave long and thoughtful answers. But G.K. Chesterton, a Christian writer, gave perhaps the shortest essay ever written. He simply wrote: “Dear Sir, I am.”

The root cause of all human problems is a sin problem. The world is broken because of my selfishness, my self-centeredness, my sin. We know what is right, but we don’t have the power to do it.

When Adam and Eve rebelled against God—wanting to be like gods themselves—sin entered the world. God’s image in us was distorted. Our hearts, our affections, our wills—all polluted. The human heart became an idol-making factory.

So what do we do? Some of us turn to legalism—relying on our own goodness, willpower, morality, and self-righteousness. Others turn to antagonism—rejecting God’s ways openly and running into sin. But in God’s eyes, both are lost.

Think of the parable of the prodigal son. Really, it should be the prodigal sons. Yes, the younger son ran away, wasted his life, and was lost. But the older son, who stayed home yet never loved his father from the heart—he too was lost. And what did the father do? He went out to both of them.

That’s who our God is. He comes out to each of us through Jesus Christ. The gospel is not advice on how to fix ourselves. It is news about what Jesus has already done for us. It’s about substitution—Jesus did it for us. He lived the perfect life we could not live. He died the death we should have died. He took our place on the cross. And by rising from the grave, He gave us new life—eternal life. The sin problem we could not solve, Jesus solved once and for all.

 

Simple Faith
That’s basically what Peter preached in today’s scripture (Acts 10:34–43). In Acts, we see at least seven different preaching moments from Peter. And yet the message was always the same: You have a sin problem you can’t solve. But Jesus has solved it for you.

It’s a simple message. But sometimes simple is hard. The gospel is a gift from God. It’s freely given. We can’t earn it. We can’t add anything to it. And that offends our pride.

In 2 Kings 5, Naaman—the great general of the Syrian army—was a perfect example. He was a mighty warrior, but he suffered from leprosy. He came with his horses and chariots to Elisha’s house. But Elisha didn’t even come out to meet him! Instead, he sent a messenger with this word: “Go, wash yourself in the Jordan seven times, and you will be cleansed.” What was Naaman’s reaction? He was furious. He said, “I thought he would surely come out and meet me! I expected him to wave his hand over me, call on the Lord his God, and heal me!” (v. 11, NLT). The message was simple. The command was clear. But it insulted Naaman’s pride. Only when he laid aside that pride, and chose the path of simple faith and obedience, did he find healing.

There’s another story, this time from World War II. In the little French village of Le Chambon, a community of Christians quietly hid thousands of Jewish children and families during the Holocaust. They risked their lives, day after day. After the war, this village was honored as “Righteous Among the Nations” by the State of Israel. One of those children—now grown—returned to ask, “Why did you do it? Why did you take such a risk to protect us?” And their answer was strikingly simple. They just shrugged and said, “It seemed natural. It was obvious from our faith.” They had no dramatic explanation, no special theology. They simply lived out what they believed: “Jesus laid down his life for us, so we ought to lay down our lives for others.” It was a habit of simple faith. Simple obedience to Christ. And it was enough.[1]

Both Peter and Cornelius in Acts 10 received visions. The vision was clear. The message was simple. But it was hard for them to obey. Cornelius, a Roman officer, had to humble himself and invite Peter—a Jew from the occupied people—to preach the gospel to him. And Peter, a Jew, had to humble himself and cross the barrier he had kept all his life, to enter the home of a Gentile occupier and share the message of salvation.

The gospel message is simple, but it is an insult to our pride. It tells us we are saved by grace alone. That means we cannot boast. We are never better than the next person. We cannot judge others. And since we are bought with a price, our lives are not our own anymore. We belong to Christ.

 

Simple Faith for You
In today’s passage, Peter said twice: “We are witnesses” (vv. 39, 41). That is the identity and calling of every Christian. We are saved—and we are sent to witness to the good news of Jesus.

What does that look like? It looks different for each of us. Peter and John show us that. Peter witnessed by preaching, healing, leading, and even dying as a martyr. John witnessed more quietly, writing the Gospel and letters, bearing testimony through words and faithfulness.

If you are outgoing, you may share Christ easily with strangers. That’s wonderful. But if you are quiet, you can still witness powerfully. Think of Gandhi. In his autobiography, he admitted that as a child he was a shy and quiet person. He was affraid of everything—snakes, ghosts, the dark, and especially other people. As a child, he would bury himself in books, and the moment school was over, he would run straight home—afraid of having to talk to anyone.” As a young man, he was too scared to speak in meetings. And yet, his shyness became his strength. He said, “My shyness has been my shield and buckler. It has helped me grow. It has guided me to discern the truth.”[2] His one word, his one action carried great weight.

Whether you are outgoing or quiet, we are all called to be witnesses. And the Holy Spirit works through us in unique ways.

Let me close with one more story. A Korean youth once shared her testimony. She grew up in a broken family and lived with her aunt, who was a Buddhist. Every Sunday they fought because the girl wanted to go to church. One Sunday after worship, she prayed: “Father, I can’t love my aunt on my own. I don’t have the power. But Your Spirit lives in me. So Holy Spirit, love her through me.” When she got home, her aunt began yelling as usual. But this time, instead of anger, the girl felt compassion. She hugged her and said, “I’m sorry. You look so tired and worn out. You work so hard to care for me.” Both of them wept. And that very day, her aunt received Christ.

The gospel is simple. Jesus did for us what we could never do for ourselves. So let us believe this good news and share it with others. And as we do, we will see God change lives – beginning with our own. Amen.

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[1] Walter Brueggemann, Abingdon Old Testament Commentaries: Deuteronomy (p. 270). Abingdon Press. Kindle Edition.

[2] Susan Cain, Quiet (Crown: New York, 2012), 200-201.