All right, well, we're moving forward in the story of Jesus, as told by John.
Last Sunday, we heard about how Jesus and his disciples were met by a large group of
armed men in the darkness of Gethsemane.
And we saw Jesus intentionally steer the conversation in order to protect his disciples and then
willingly surrender himself to the soldiers and the guards.
Let's pick up the story here in John chapter 18, verse 12.
Then the detachment of soldiers with its commander and the Jewish officials arrested Jesus.
They bound him and brought him first to Annas, who was the father-in-law of Caiaphas, the high
priest that year.
So they tied Jesus up, even though he surrendered himself willingly.
And this large group of armed men leads Jesus in the night to Annas.
Who's Annas?
John tells us that Annas was the father-in-law of Caiaphas.
And Caiaphas was the current high priest.
Now, why take Jesus to Annas?
Well, history has it that Annas was himself the high priest of the Jews for nine years.
But then in the year 15 AD, this was 18 years earlier, the Roman governor removed Annas from
his position.
And the Roman governor appointed one of his sons to be high priest.
The Roman governors, I guess, had made a practice of meddling with who got this official
position.
So not long after that, they removed Annas' son from the position.
And they appointed Caiaphas, the son-in-law of Annas, as high priest.
But all this meddling of the Romans wasn't really appreciated by many of the Jews.
According to the Mosaic law, a high priest was to be the high priest for life.
And so some of the Jews still considered Annas to be the real high priest, even though it
was his son-in-law, Caiaphas, who was officially in the position and had the title and carried
out the duties.
So Annas, in the eyes of the Jews, would have been the highest-ranking, most experienced
authority in the high priestly family.
And that's likely why they take Jesus to him first.
Verse 15.
Simon Peter and another disciple were following Jesus.
So even though Jesus' disciples were scattered and ran from the garden, John tells us that
at least two of his disciples didn't run very far.
They followed from a distance, watching to see what was going to happen to Jesus.
Where were they going to take him?
Picture this in your mind.
It's pitch black outside.
Dark.
And this large group of soldiers and guards is marching down the road, many of them carrying
torches.
And here's Peter and another disciple sneaking along in the darkness, following them.
So Simon Peter and another disciple were following Jesus.
Because this disciple was known to the high priest, he went with Jesus into the high priest's courtyard.
But Peter had to wait outside at the door.
The other disciple, who was known to the high priest, came back, spoke to the servant girl on duty there, and brought Peter in.
So who is this other disciple with Peter?
Well, we don't know 100% for sure.
But here's what people have suggested.
Tradition has it that this other disciple is John, the one who wrote this gospel account.
The beloved disciple.
And this fits and makes sense because there's a number of other places in the gospel where John seems to refer to himself just kind of very discreetly, not mentioning his name.
Also, if it is John, then it would make sense how we're going to have the details of the conversation that happened right there in the room between Jesus and Annas.
And that John would have been a witness.
Others suggest that this is some other disciple of Jesus.
Perhaps one from Jerusalem.
Because maybe it seems a little unlikely that a fisherman from Galilee would have been known to the high priest in Jerusalem.
Perhaps the reason John left the name out was to protect the follower.
Who was still very much in danger by some of the religious leaders at the time.
Perhaps it was Nicodemus.
Perhaps it was Joseph of Arimathea.
Whatever the case, Peter and this other disciple arrive at the house of Annas.
And the other disciple, it seems, just walks right in.
He's able to do that because of his relationship with Annas.
But Peter was not.
He was stuck outside the gate or the door.
And then at some point, this other disciple comes back to the entrance of the courtyard and speaks to the servant girl at the door.
Asks her to let Peter in.
And at this moment, the servant girl asks a question.
You aren't one of this man's disciples too, are you?
She's referring to Jesus, of course.
And she's asking Peter if he's a disciple of Jesus.
Now this is certainly a loaded question.
But we're not certain about what this question is loaded with.
Is this servant girl at the door asking in order to decide whether she should let him in?
Like, hold on a second.
You aren't one of Jesus' disciples also, are you?
Because if you're not, I have orders not to...
If you are, I have orders not to let you in.
Or is this the servant girl making a statement of surprise or disdain?
Like, you aren't one of this man's disciples too, are you?
You haven't fallen prey to this guy's influence as well, have you?
Or, the most popular guess, is the servant girl letting on that she's pretty sure she knows that Peter is.
A follower of Jesus.
Like, are you not one of this man's disciples also?
In other words, I think you are.
Peter replied, I'm not.
Let the full force of those three words sink in.
This is Peter.
One of the inner circle of three.
Closest of Jesus' twelve disciples.
One of the apostles.
This is Peter, the one who was asked in Jesus, by Jesus in private, who he thought Jesus was on another occasion.
And answered with, you are the Messiah.
The son of the living God.
This is Peter, who watched others turn away from Jesus.
And when asked if he too was going to leave, said, Lord, to whom shall we go?
You alone have the words of eternal life.
We've come to believe and to know that you are the Holy One of God.
This is Peter.
This is Peter who rejoiced with the other apostles.
That he had been given authority and power to heal the sick and cast out demons in Jesus' name.
This is Peter.
This is Peter who earlier this same evening said, Lord, why can't I follow you now?
I will lay down my life for you.
And here Peter's asked by a servant girl at the door whether he's a disciple of Jesus.
And he says, I'm not.
Now all of us have told a lie at some time or another.
You know that feeling, don't you?
You're being asked about something and you feel embarrassed or ashamed of the truth.
Or maybe you're afraid of the consequence that may come if you're honest.
And so you open your mouth and you lie.
But at that moment inside, you feel that nagging at your conscience.
Knowing that what you've done is wrong.
Why didn't Peter just tell the truth?
No doubt he was experiencing similar kinds of feelings.
Similar emotions.
Fear at what might happen to him if he makes it known that he's with Jesus.
The one who's just been arrested.
Perhaps he felt ashamed or embarrassed.
That, yeah, I am one of the disciples of this man who's being charged with all these things.
And right now is tied up and under guard like a criminal.
And we have to know that as bad as lying is, and it is, this is worse than a lie.
It's not just deceiving the girl.
It's also an act of disloyalty.
A betrayal of a loved one.
It's a lie told to cover up his close friendship and association with Jesus.
The most wonderful, awesome person that Peter has ever known.
His very best of friends.
And now Peter betrays all of that in a moment.
I'm not one of his disciples.
It was cold, and the servants and officials stood around a fire they had made to keep warm.
Peter also was standing with them, warming himself.
So he doesn't go right into the house.
That could have some consequences.
Keep in mind that Jesus and his disciples had come down to Jerusalem multiple times a year for all these festivals.
So people would have recognized Peter, probably.
Instead, he goes to stand over by the fire in the courtyard.
Near enough to be able to find out what's going to happen this night.
But far enough away that he might avoid being recognized.
Verse 19.
Meanwhile, the high priest questioned Jesus about his disciples and his teaching.
I have spoken openly to the world, Jesus replied.
I always taught in synagogues or at the temple where all the Jews come together.
I said nothing in secret.
In the context, the high priest here is Annas, as we'll see down in verse 24.
This has some of the feeling of a religious trial.
Annas is asking questions of Jesus.
He is the high priest.
Specifically, he's asking questions about Jesus' disciples and about Jesus' teachings.
But though it feels like a religious trial in one sense, what kind of trial happens in the private home of the judge?
What kind of trial happens late at night when everybody else is sleeping?
Not to mention that the official high priest, Caiaphas, is not here, as we'll see in verse 24.
And what does Annas ask about?
He wants to drill into Jesus about his disciples and his teaching.
In response, Jesus declares,
I have spoken openly to the world.
I always taught in synagogues or at the temple where all the Jews come together.
I said nothing in secret.
If we sort of read between the lines, perhaps Annas is wondering how Jesus has come to have such a large and loyal following.
Perhaps he suspects or is accusing Jesus of saying one thing publicly, but then saying another thing privately.
How is it that you've hoodwinked all of these gullible people into following you?
Maybe that's what he's wondering.
We don't know.
Or are there people in the room even now that are accusing Jesus of some of the things that they said that he said?
Things that were false.
Well, Annas is trying to get something with these questions.
And Jesus' response is really hard to argue with or dispute.
Basically, Jesus says,
My ministry has been as public as can be.
The things that I said, I said openly to the world.
Everybody's had access.
Everybody's had opportunity to hear me.
I didn't teach in ways that subverted the local synagogues or the temple here in Jerusalem.
I taught in the synagogues all over Israel.
And right here in the temple at Jerusalem.
In other words, everybody knows what I've been teaching.
Now, when Jesus says he spoke nothing in secret,
it doesn't mean that he didn't ever teach his disciples in private.
We know from the other gospels, all the gospels really,
that Jesus did teach his disciples in private when the crowds were not present.
But I think the point here is that he had one consistent message.
One teaching.
I said nothing different in secret.
Nothing seditious or malicious.
I liked how D.A. Carson put it in his commentary.
He said what Jesus said to his disciples in private was of a piece with what he said in public.
He did not maintain one message for public consumption
and another more dangerous one for a secret group of initiates.
His private discourses further unpacked what he said in public
or extrapolated his message a little farther.
Jesus then goes a step further
and shines the light on the dubiousness of this whole thing.
All these questions, this interrogation.
Verse 21.
Why question me?
Ask those who heard me.
Surely they know what I said.
Or quite literally, look, behold.
They know what I said.
Jesus basically says,
questioning me about my teaching and my followers is pointless.
Why do it?
Ask the witnesses themselves.
All the people who heard what I said and taught,
they know what I said.
In other words, and I think if we read between the lines
and look at some of the other accounts here,
you can try and twist my words all you want.
You can try to dig something up that I said that was wrong, that was false.
But it's going to be obvious that you're doing it.
Because people all over the nation have already heard publicly what I taught.
All my teachings on record with the ears of thousands,
men and women who came to the synagogues
and heard me speak in every town in Israel.
Most of the nation comes here to Jerusalem
multiple times a year for the festivals
and heard me teach,
saying the same things publicly at the temple.
So it's pointless to ask me all these questions,
to look for fault with my teaching.
Ask the people what I said.
They'll tell you.
When Jesus said this,
one of the officials nearby slapped him in the face.
Is this the way you answer the high priest?
He demanded.
If I said something wrong, Jesus replied,
testify as to what is wrong.
But if I spoke the truth,
why did you strike me?
So one of these officials slaps Jesus in the face.
He asks this question.
Is this the way you answer the high priest?
I'm not sure just what the official was thinking here.
Maybe he thought it was rude for Jesus
to offer advice to the high priest,
the guy who usually is giving advice to other people
because of his position.
But Jesus doesn't accept this official's rebuke.
Immediately after bearing this blow to his face,
Jesus challenges the official to state
what he has done or said that is wrong.
And further, if I spoke the truth,
why did you strike me?
He says.
It falls to you to account for your actions
if you can't find fault with what I just said.
And of course, John records no answer from the official.
Jesus was right.
This questioning,
this attempt to find fault with him
and his teaching was futile.
Verse 24.
Then Annas sent Jesus bound to Caiaphas,
the high priest.
So at this point,
Annas, I think,
realizes he's just not getting
what he's hoping to from Jesus.
He isn't finding anything to pin on him.
He's simply exposing
or being exposed more and more by Jesus.
So Annas, it seems,
is done with Jesus.
Send him to Caiaphas.
He's the official high priest.
Let him preside over things from here.
Peter.
Meanwhile,
Simon Peter was still standing there
warming himself.
So the sense we get here
is that while all this was going on in the house,
Peter was having an interaction
out at the fire.
He was still there
warming himself.
And at some point,
the attention comes to rest
on Peter.
Peter.
They asked Peter,
you aren't one of his disciples too,
are you?
He denied it,
saying,
I am not.
The wording here is almost identical
to the first time Peter was asked.
And so the same nuances are possible,
but probably they just suspected that he was.
Are you not also one of his disciples?
No, I am not,
said Peter.
One of the high priest's servants,
a relative of the man
whose ear Peter had cut off,
challenged him,
did I not see you with him in the garden?
Now Peter is busted.
This servant had been there
at Gethsemane.
Yes, it was a little hard to see in the dark
by the light of the torches,
but this man for sure recognized Peter.
He was a relative of Malchus,
the man whose ear Peter had cut off.
You can bet that he'd made note
of the face of the man
who did this to his relative.
His question is rhetorical,
but it's a pretty clear statement.
Did I not see you with him in the garden?
I saw you.
You were there.
You were with him in the garden.
Again, Peter denied it.
And at that moment,
a rooster began to crow.
This rooster crow is significant.
First of all,
let's quickly look back
to the conversation earlier this evening
that Jesus had with Peter
back in John chapter 13, verse 36.
Jesus had been talking about going away
and Simon asked him,
where are you going?
And Jesus said,
where I'm going,
you cannot follow now,
but you will follow later.
And Peter asked,
Lord, why can't I follow you now?
I will lay down my life for you.
And Jesus answered,
will you really lay down your life for me?
Very truly, I tell you,
before the rooster crows,
you will disown me three times.
So Jesus had prophesied
that this would happen.
Matthew tells us
that the conversation
even went beyond that.
Peter actually had another response.
Even if I have to die with you,
I will never disown you,
said Peter.
Jesus had been right.
Not only did he know Peter,
what was in his heart,
Jesus knew the future
because he's the son of God.
It's a pretty specific prediction
or prophecy.
You will deny me,
you will say you don't know me
three times before the rooster crows.
And the rooster crowing,
it's the sign that morning is near.
Basically, Jesus is saying,
you will deny knowing me
three times before the night is over.
And here John tells us
that immediately after Peter said it,
the rooster crowed.
Luke actually tells us
that in this moment,
Jesus turns and looks straight at Peter.
Probably Jesus was at this very moment
being led out of Annas' house
through the courtyard
to go to Caiaphas.
Can you imagine
the piercing gaze of Jesus?
This time as Peter lies
and says he doesn't know him,
it's like all of a sudden,
out of nowhere,
there's Jesus
looking right at him.
The very one he's disowning.
We can only imagine
just how utterly exposed
and ashamed
Peter felt in that moment.
I've betrayed my best friend.
Worse,
the Messiah.
I thought he wouldn't see it
or know about it,
but he's right there
looking at me.
John doesn't tell us here,
but Luke tells us
that at this point,
Peter leaves the courtyard
and breaks down in tears.
He weeps bitterly.
What a night this has been
for Jesus and his disciples,
and yet this is just the beginning
of what's coming
with the break of day.
We're going to continue on
with the story next Sunday,
but let's pause and reflect
for a moment here.
What can we take
from all of this?
I don't know about you,
but I can't help
but see myself
when I look at Peter.
It's so easy
to talk the Christian talk.
To say,
yes, I believe
you are the Messiah,
you are the Son of God.
Especially for those of us
who have been followers
of Jesus for a long time
or have grew up
in the church.
But are we walking
the Christian walk?
Do our actions match
what we profess?
It's often easy
to do the right thing
when everything's going well,
but then when the trials come,
when the troubles of life
enclose,
when things come
that test our patience,
do our actions
and words
match
what we profess?
Peter struggled with this.
I struggle with this.
Today's a day
that we reflect
on parenthood,
specifically mothers.
But for us fathers,
our day is coming too.
Let me share with you parents
a familiar example
which I read
the other day in a book
and I've modified it
a little bit for us,
but you'll get the feeling.
Dinner is prepared.
The table is set.
The kids are finally
at the table.
Everything's nearly ready.
But the happiness
is interrupted
when little Johnny
does something
overly rambunctious
at the table
and knocks the pitcher
of juice over,
spilling all of it
into the pulled pork.
After a momentary
out-of-body experience
in which you hover
above your world
gone awry,
you look,
as old Mr. Wodehouse
would say,
like a tomato
struggling for self-expression.
Little Johnny
quickly regrets
his wild antics,
not because he's made
a mess of dinner,
but because you,
his parent,
have suddenly transformed
into a fire-breathing dragon.
You've got flaming eyes
and steaming ears.
As your lid flips,
you find your tongue.
Your volcanic rant
spews on blaming,
shaming,
and defaming
in raw,
molten anger.
And with each
passing second,
the little guy
puddles further
into fear
and shame.
And then all of a sudden,
your phone rings.
And it's the call
you've been waiting for
from a friend at church.
You all know how
this plays out, right?
Imagine little Johnny's awe
when before his eyes
you instantly transform
from a dragon
to a lamb.
And with an artificially
sweetened tone,
you pick up the phone
and offer
the nicest,
kindest,
gentlest,
most welcoming
hello
in the whole world.
When things that test
our patience happen,
do our actions
and words
match our profession
of faith
in Jesus?
Maybe parenting
is not the thing
that's the struggle
for you,
but maybe it's some
other difficult
relationship
with someone.
It just brings out
things inside.
Maybe it's another trial.
Maybe it's pressures.
Maybe finances
are a factor.
Vehicles,
health,
you name it.
All of these kinds
of things
have the potential
to bring out
the worst in us.
Maybe it's not
anger for you,
but perhaps like Peter,
maybe it's fear.
Maybe it's cowardice.
Maybe you care so much
about what people think
that it's crippling you.
It's keeping you
from opening up
and speaking the truth.
Maybe like Peter,
you've simply given
into temptation
and compromised.
And you know
a follower of his
shouldn't do such things.
And yet here you are
doing it anyway.
Do you see yourself
when you look at Peter
in this story?
Half of this story
is Peter's failure.
Peter's sin.
Peter's betrayal
of Jesus,
which calls to mind
our own failures
and sins.
The many moments
that we've not lived
as a disciple
of Jesus
ought to.
But the other half
of this story
is Jesus' success.
Jesus' willingness
to suffer
for us.
Jesus' righteousness.
What a contrast.
Peter lies,
but Jesus
speaks the truth
to Annas.
In fact,
he says,
you won't catch me
speaking lies,
Annas,
because I've been
the same man
with the same message
in private
as in public
here in Jerusalem
and in every synagogue
throughout the nation.
Think about
the kind of integrity
you would have to have
to say that.
Jesus could say it.
What a contrast.
Peter was a coward.
He was afraid
to tell the truth
to the servant girl
at the door.
But Jesus
was as bold
as a lion.
He told Annas,
one of the most powerful
and revered men
in the nation,
you're wasting your time.
What a contrast.
Peter has a friend
with him
and yet he lies.
He's embarrassed.
He won't speak the truth.
Jesus is all alone
with no help
from any man,
no support,
and yet he refuses
to compromise
to save his own skin.
one of the other gospels
actually tells how Peter
in one of the moments
of denial
started calling down
curses.
In contrast,
we see Jesus
taking a slap
across the face
and he does not
retaliate
or curse.
Rather,
he invites the man
to point out
what he has done
or said
that's wrong.
And if there's nothing,
explain
why you struck me.
As we'll see,
Jesus' successes
go on
and on
and continue
all the way
to the cross
where he lays down
his life
to atone
for Peter
and for you
and for me
for the world.
So yes,
as we read this story,
we're reminded
of our failures
and sins
as we look at Peter.
We're reminded
of how he blew it
big time
and like him,
we've all blown it
big time
in all kinds of ways.
But the good news
is that we have
a champion,
a greater
high priest,
one who never blew it
even when things
became exceedingly
difficult.
The pressure
is unbelievable.
Yet he endured
in perfect righteousness
and he gave his life
to secure
our forgiveness,
our pardon
to wipe all our guilt
away.
This is the good news
of Jesus.
So if today
on Mother's Day,
whether you're a mother
or a father,
you're aware
of your own sins
and failures
and shortcomings,
look to Peter
but quick,
get your eyes
off him
and look
to Jesus.
He is our
righteous champion.
By his mercy,
we can all be forgiven
of all of our sins,
every failure
if we come to him
humbly,
believing
and ask.
Let's pray.
Father in heaven,
it's,
this story is heavy
but it's the truth,
it's the story
of what happened.
It was part of your plan
even though it's hard
and it's heavy,
it exposes us.
We thank you
that in the midst
of it
we see
your sun
shining brightly,
working
towards our redemption
and we thank you
that that gift
has been
given
and paid for
with Jesus' blood.
I pray that we would all
place our trust
firmly in that.
and that you would
make us
a powerful witness
to our children,
to our parents,
to our unsaved loved ones,
to our friends,
our family,
our co-workers,
neighbors
of the grace
that you have given us
in Christ.
We say thank you
for that
in his name.
Amen.