The Testimony of Scripture (05/08/26-05/09/26)

Having addressed recent history, Peter directs our attention to the more distant past.  Speaking to a people stirred to Messianic hopes, he requires them to think about the basis for that hope, and to perceive that hope satisfied.  He quotes a portion of Psalm 16 to establish the promise of Messiah.  That Psalm hits first as David’s prayer regarding himself.  But we shall have to deal with the question of whether this is because of the way it has been translated or because it is what David intended.  So, we’ll take a brief time to consider further what is said in this quote.

Begin at the beginning.  The NASB offers us, “I was always beholding the Lord in my presence.”  This is fair, but I’m not sure it really captures the full force of what he says there.  That ‘always beholding’ covers three words in the underlying Greek: dia pantos prooromen.  So, we have a preposition in dia, indicative of the means, the ‘channel of action,’ as Strong puts it.  Through something, he was beholding.  Through what?  Pantos.  Each and every thing; every event, every occasion, every circumstance.  There was nothing he could see which did not serve as an instrumental means of the outcome.  And the outcome?  Having acted through everything, where did he arrive?  He was beholding.  Thayer offers the idea of being always mindful of.  But the word we have before us here has more the sense of foreseeing.  That pro, is another preposition indicating what is before, in front of, prior to, and then we add horao, a matter of staring at, discerning clearly, or appearing.

Murdock, in his translation, suggests the phrasing, “I foresaw my Lord at all times.”  And the bare language of the prooromen sort of suggests such a thing.  But it could as readily intend to say that David saw the Lord before him in everything, and such a sense would certainly fit the context of what follows.  “Because He is ever at my right hand.”  He is always with me, and I am always conscious of that.  I have opted for a somewhat different sense of things in my paraphrase, suggesting, “I was beholding Almighty God in everything I encountered.”  That may be something of a motivated reading, but it is certainly a reading which motivates.  Going back to the Psalm itself, the Hebrew would seem to lean more towards the sense of intentionally keeping awareness of the Lord’s presence.  The KJV takes that as, “I have set the Lord always before me.”  I always have His presence in mind.

Now, that this was a bit of hyperbole for David is clear in that he being a man like us, he made more than sufficient errors.  Bathsheba comes to mind, and Absalom as well.  He had his less stellar moments.  And yet, the testimony of God is that here in David He had found a man after His own heart, and David, for his part, was quick to repent of his sins when once he returned to his senses.  Being corrected, he accepted correction and did not insist on continuing his sinful course.

Honestly, one could make a sermon on this phrase alone.  I behold my God in every moment.  Would that I could say the same!  Would that I could face the day ahead with such a mindset.  And of course, I can, for the Holy Spirit supplies everything needful to life and godliness.  And yet, I fear I shall fall far short before all is said and done.  I don’t speak this as being resigned to my failure.  I do, however, seek to be real in my faith.  I know the weakness of this flesh.  It has been proven to me over and over.  But I also recognize, as David so richly proclaims here, that my God is ever at my side, ever with me, abiding in me against all odds.  There are moments where such knowledge overwhelms.  Sadly, there are many moments when it does not, the wonder of it lost in presumption.

Lord help me!  Let me be more aware of Your presence, more intentional about recognizing Your company and Your guidance, and more ready to heed Your voice when You speak.

Moving forward in David’s prayerful declaration we find him speaking to flesh abiding and soul not abandoned.  There is a sharp contrast being depicted here.  My flesh, he says, will abide in hope.  To abide is to pitch one’s tent, establish one’s house, as it were, even as the Holy Spirit abides in us, God tabernacles with us.  It is a declaration of permanence, and hope we may take as the means or the place, depending how you wish to view it.  But hope being more a state than a concrete thing, I would incline to see it as indicative of means.  Thayer offers support for this reading, where a more metaphorical sense of epi would indicate ‘that upon which any action, effect, or condition rests as a basis or support.’  Hope is the basis for this abiding rest of the flesh.

Over against this we have the negatively stated hope, “You will not abandon my soul to Hades.”  You won’t leave me among the dead.  So, on the one hand, remaining, abiding; on the other, abandonment, leaving behind.  On the one hand, the flesh of the body; on the other, the soul.  But these are not talking two separate outcomes for two distinct parts.  They are establishing a single point by parallel thoughts.  Flesh and soul remain one being.  Abiding in hope rests in the knowledge that while you may taste death, you will not remain there.  The NCV actually sets this up nicely with its translation.  “Even my body has hope because you will not leave me in the grave.”  That’s the message.  Hope is in life, the grave is for death.  You won’t leave me there because I know You have given me to know the ways of life.  And life, dear ones, is far greater than the grave.  He Who is Life has conquered the grave.  But that is to get ahead of Peter just a bit, though only by a bit.

Here then is the basis for hope, declared at the end.  I’ll take it from the BBE.  “I will be full of joy when I see your face.”  Notice how this echoes the point we started with.  “I was beholding the Lord before me in all things.”  But still, as comforting as this is, and as true, there remains this death-defying hope in the believer.  I know that I shall see Your face.  Here is the thing Moses longed for.  Though he had been close to God as few, if any, others, yet he had this longing desire.  God, I’ve met with You, I’ve done as You commanded, I’ve sensed Your presence, glowed with the effect of Your presence; but let me see Your face.  But God would not.  “I will pass before you, but My face you may not see” (Ex 33:20).  To see His face would be, in the sinful condition of this present life, certain death.  What, then, does this hope of seeing His face indicate, if not that the sinfulness of this present life will be dealt with?  Therefore I hope with assurance, knowing You will make me full of gladness with Your presence.  That, beloved, must surely be the hope of every believer.  If it is not, then to what purpose belief?  If all we have is moralizing encouragement to better behavior, we have nothing.  If, on the other hand, we have that assurance of which Paul spoke in Philippians, that God Himself is at work in and upon us to render us able to will His will, working in us that we might do as He wills, then we have everything.  For God cannot fail to achieve His will.  He speaks and it is.  He spoke in regard to us, and we are.  Therefore my flesh will abide in hope.

What a glorious present is ours.  Even though there be trials aplenty, and myriad causes of concern as we look at the state of our world and the state of our own rebellious flesh, yet this hope abides, and we abide in that hope.  I may not be able.  I most assuredly am not able.  But God is able, and willing, and actively pursuing His purpose in me.  He has shown me the ways which lead to life, and set me upon them.  And here, as with David, I am given to understand that as much as this speaks of me, it speaks more loudly of another.  This is the point to which Peter will come.  I arrive a bit early.  But while David was, I believe, speaking of himself, he was simultaneously speaking of another.  He could not expect, in himself, to escape the grave.  He had absolutely no basis for any such expectation.  David was a man only too aware of his sins.  He could not suppose himself on par with Enoch, and Elijah was not come, so he could not have any thought of him at all.  So, as he looks to this escape from Hades, it has to be on some basis other than himself.  It has to be about someone else.  Only then, and I suppose he must have had some sense of this as he wrote, could he find hope of his own release from Sheol.

Here is something I think we must come to grips with.  Sheol, which we are having translated by Hades in this case, is not a place of damnation.  It is not the eternal imprisonment depicted by hell, or Gehenna.  It is the common lot of all flesh, a state into which every soul must enter when the physical plant expires.  Now, we can argue, certainly, that the expiration of this physical plant is in fact an outworking of sin, and that’s as may be.  I do wonder, had Adam succeeded in his assignment, would he have continued eternal in that body?  Or was it, while longer lasting than the current model, still bound to wear out in due course?  Was he in fact fit for eternity, so far as flesh and bone were concerned?  Or would he have undergone the same transit through Sheol regardless?  I don’t know.  Were he in fact an eternal creature as created, I don’t know as I could see how the reproductive function would have proven necessary or wise.  If all his progeny were to be likewise eternal, how long before earth was overpopulated?  But who knows?  Perhaps the original creature was not intended to remain earthbound.  Still, I don’t see that working out well.  Eternal existence combined with procreation would seem to me to require infinite expanse in which to exist.  But I wander into the truly speculative, don’t I?

Come back to this:  You have given me to know the ways that lead to life.  That way lies through this one of whom David prophetically speaks:  This one who was not abandoned in Hades, who entered the grave but did not stay long enough to undergo decay.  These ways leading to life speak of a way of life.  They are a matter of worldview, as we phrase it.  It encompasses both how we perceive events around us, and how we respond.  It addresses matters of thinking and feeling.  It is the filter through which we process our experiences.  It is the decision tree by which we shape our responses.  It is, in short, the way we think.  And the way we think necessarily directs the way we act.  How do you respond?  When offense comes, and offense surely will come, how do you respond?  When met with other worldviews, people on a radically different course, how do you respond?  Do you revile?  Do you raise up a defense?  Do you recall your former days when you were much more like them than like your current self?  Do you offer them hope or leave them to condemnation?  Do you risk rejection by speaking kindly of the reason for the hope that is in you?  Or do you play it safe and leave them to their fate?

I dare say the correct answer to any one of those choices is evident.  And I dare say that you, like me, have likely answered incorrectly more often than correctly.  Which must lead us to ask of ourselves, “What is wrong with me?”  I do not for a moment suppose it gives us the right to ask of another, “What is wrong with you?”  Perhaps you are more advanced in your growth as a believer.  Or perhaps you are simply equipped for a different role in the body.  But to suppose oneself fit to sit in judgment upon your brother seems arrogant in the extreme, and rather lacking in self-awareness.  But to fail to ask in regard to yourself feels much the same.  It is not sufficient to say, “Oh well, I’m saved.  Everybody else is on their own.”  That is not the way.  That is not expressive of knowing the way.  A manner of thinking and feeling cannot but become a manner of acting.  The one leads to the other.  If it does not, then I must conclude that the first condition has not in fact been met as yet.  It may be that you can recite the lessons, repeat the information.  But it has not in fact become a manner of thinking and feeling yet.  Or perhaps it has been swamped by oversaturation with other ways of thinking and feeling.  Perhaps the world is too much with us yet, and we pay it too much attention to tend to the ways made known to us.

Lord, You have made these ways known to us.  I pray that You make them ever more real and all-encompassing to us.  So much around us seeks to drown out Your voice, to suggest alternatives that the flesh finds attractive, but which are in fact deadly.  Strengthen us to resist, to turn off those false inputs rather than foolishly thinking ourselves too advanced to fall prey to them.  I know for myself that I cannot stand except You cause me to stand.  And yet, I also know I am only too willing yet to sit down, or worse, to go with the flow.  There is a time to go with the flow, but there is also a time to stand fast and refuse to be moved.  Help me to discern the distinction and to respond according to the Way.

The Historical Record (05/10/26)

While Peter turns primarily to Psalm 16 to make his point, he does not do so exclusively.  In verse 30 he makes reference to another text, Psalm 89:3-4, where it is written, “I have made covenant with My chosen.  I have sworn to David My servant:  I will establish your seed forever, and build up your throne to all generations.”  This psalm echoes the message delivered to David by the prophet Nathan.  This came at a time when David was concerned to build a proper temple for God, who had established him on the throne of Israel.  The whole of that message comes as something of a reminder to David – not a rebuke, but a reminder.  You, David, don’t need to build Me a house, but I have built yours.

God reviews his dealings with David to date.  You were but a youngest son, shepherding your father’s flocks before I took you from that and made you ruler over My people (2Sa 7:8).  Pause there for a moment.  This was a young man with no real prospects.  In a culture where the inheritance went primarily to the eldest son, he was not positioned to prosper.  Yet, we might observe, he was faithful in his duties to his father.  Perhaps we might say that this was all the more indicative of upright character given the relative lack of personal gain to be had from his labors.  But there is also this reminder embedded in the point God is making:  They remain My people.  You are set as ruler, but they are Mine.  And that, I should note, has ever been the model for those whom God appoints to shepherd His people.  This is not to say that those appointed have always held to such a mindset, but only that it is the right mindset for leadership.  The people are not there for your pleasure or for your aggrandizement, but as your duty.  They are not a field to be harvested, but a flock to be nourished and protected.

But God moves on, reminds David that He has been the source of all his victories.  You didn’t do this, David.  I did.  I cut off all your enemies.  I have made you a great man among men.  And I am God who gives this people Israel a land in which to dwell.  I have made them secure.  Yes, you have been My chosen instrument in that work, but it remains My work.  And then comes the promise.  Your faithfulness in your duties has not gone unnoticed.  I will give you rest.  I will make a house for you!  (2Sa 7:11).  He’s not done with David yet.  As He has been, so He will continue to be.  And the desire of David, to establish a more permanent monument to the God of Israel is reversed, as God declares that He will make a permanent heritage for David.

That brings us to this declaration.  “When your days are complete and you lie with your fathers, I will raise up your descendant after you, who comes forth from you, and I will establish his kingdom.  He shall build a house for My name, and I will establish the throne of His kingdom forever” (2Sa 7:12-13).  Now, as that begins, it’s easy to see a fulfillment in Solomon.  Your son will be established after you, and he will be the one to build My house.  And of course, in Solomon, that does find fulfillment.

But it is fulfillment in part.  It is but a foreshadowing of the full promise.  That this must be so is evident in that promised eternality.  Solomon’s kingdom did not last forever.  It barely lasted his lifetime as all the tribes of Israel apart from Judah and Benjamin rebelled and separated from Solomon and his sons.  And that led to a long era of civil war.  For all that, the temple which Solomon built did not last either, but was destroyed as Israel and Judah in turn were carried off in bondage by conquering nations.  This left but two possibilities.  Either God was a liar or this prophecy was bigger than a dynastic kingdom.  No doubt there were those in Israel who concluded that it was the former case.  This God they had served was not so powerful as they had thought.  Who knows, maybe there were even atheists in that society, steeped though they were in the traditions of their ancient faith.  Somehow, we seem to think that the Israelites were immune to such thinking, but I see no reason to believe that this was or is the case.  But the reality is and remains that there could be but one real possibility, and that was the possibility that this promise God had made had yet to find its fulfillment.

That possibility, that promise, resonated in the minds of faithful Israel.  It resonated, I suspect, even in the minds of less-than-faithful Israel.  Even those of a less religious leaning hungered to see such a promise upheld.  Here was a place for national pride, national hope, what we might term a religious patriotism in our own day.  God can’t have abandoned us!  He would never!  Look at the promises made.  He has to bless us!  He said so.  Sadly, such a mindset more often than not becomes an excuse for sin.  If He has to bless us then we can live as we please.  If His promise is sure, then my actions make no difference.  Something in the nature of fallen man leads us to conclusions of this sort, primarily, I suspect, because they make no demands of us, and we rather like that.  Go back to that original fall into sin.  “You will be like God.”  You will answer only to yourself.  And that has been the lust of the flesh ever since.

But the point remains.  That one clause in God’s promise renders it impossible to suppose it fulfilled in any mere man.  “I will establish his throne forever.”  That’s more than dynastic inheritance.  That’s not simply saying, the throne will pass from son to son in all perpetuity.  Look again.  “He shall build a house for My name, and I will establish the throne of His kingdom forever” (2Sa 7:13).  That’s where we are going.  And this son came in accordance with the promise.  It wasn’t Solomon.  As I said, his kingdom barely lasted at all, and the house he built for God was soon sullied by foreign idols, and not long after, destroyed, all its wealth of gold and silver carried away to other lands. No.  This was something else. 

This was the Son of God Himself, fully human but without the taint of original sin.  And He, coming into the world He Himself had made, declares, “I will build My church.  And the gates of Hades shall not overpower it” (Mt 16:18).  There’s a few things we need to observe about this.  First, of course, there is the factor that the rock upon which He declares that He will build this church is not Peter, but the revealed knowledge:  “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God!” (Mt 16:16).  Secondly, note that it is the gates of Hades spoken of here, not Gehenna.  This is not, then, a declaration of standing against the forces of the enemy, or of storming his stronghold.  As with the passage before us, it is concerned with the abode of the dead, that place where all who have died go alike.  It is death itself which is being stormed by the Church of the Living God.  Death, of course, is the chief weapon in the Devil’s assault.  If you doubt it, just consider how strongly modern man struggles against death.  Everywhere we turn there is this urgent pursuit of longevity, and why?  Because death is the end result of sin.  Death is the sentence upon sin, the end of hope for those who don’t receive faith in the God of Life.  And so, man, for all that he has sought to erase God from his thinking, struggles on in the hope of avoiding that court date.  But of course that court date is inevitable for all.  But as for His Church, death shall not overpower it.

This was still not understood, of course, as Jesus ministered.  There were messianic expectations, to be sure, but they were still dynastic, not divine.  But there were a few, here and there, who perceived something more than national greatness in that promise.  Mary was forced to reconsider her expectations in that moment when Gabriel came to inform her of her role in events.  To this young girl, still a child by modern standards but perhaps not so much in that time and place, comes the message.  “You are going to conceive a child, whom you are to name Jesus” (Lk 1:31).  Now, pause for a moment and wonder at the fact that she wasn’t shouting out for help in such a moment.  Here she is, but a young child, and this angel drops in and tells her she’s about to become pregnant.  This is a country girl.  We may reasonably assume she has some idea of how conception transpires.  And it’s not entirely clear that Gabriel’s appearance made it obvious that he was something other than a man.  If not, then here is a scene that, to the callous modern eye, suggests a rape unfolding.  But that’s not the case at all, as he will make clear shortly, when she, in her innocent wonder, asks how this conception is going to come about given her virgin state.

But we are focused on this point, made about the One whom she would bear.  “He will be great.  He will be called the Son of the Most High,” and here’s the point to which we’ve been building, “and the Lord God will give Him the throne of His father David” (Lk 1:32).  Here is the promise being fulfilled.  The people of Israel may have, by this point, lost the grand scope of that promise, and held only to the idea of national pride restored.  Their thinking, it seems, no longer reached beyond the earthly.  But the promise was greater.  The promise was forever, an eternal throne.  Look back across history.  There has never been a human empire that could lay claim to this.  Some had tried, to be sure.  I suspect Egypt at its height supposed itself an eternal empire.  Its Pharaohs, after all, were posited as gods.  Rome wasn’t much different at this point.  A given Caesar might not last particularly long, but the empire?  Oh yes, Rome would be eternal.  Except it wasn’t.

We could come to more modern times.  The great British Empire which spanned the globe is effectively no more.  Name your empire and it is shown to be vanity and wind.  That applies every bit as much to those empires which pertain today, though we no longer call them that.  Whether you choose to consider China or the US or Russia or some other global power, they remain far more fragile than they may appear to be.  Empires always come to an end.  The seemingly unopposable power proves hollow, more often than not, hollowed out from within.  But here is a throne established forever.  And why?  Because it is not of this earth.  In the end, it’s not even about this earth.  It’s a kingdom not of man but of God.  And that kingdom is ruled by none other than God, nor could it be.  For who would wrest it from Him?  He is the Almighty.  He is the one uncreated being in all Creation.  All else must in the end submit to His decree.  Were it not so, He would not be God, and we should have to look farther afield to find the one who is.  For there can be but one Almighty, else his might is not all.

But the nation of Israel wanted a national hero.  They hungered for former days, when they were a power in their own right, when no enemy could stand against them, not even the great powers of the day.  You hear it in their bold, though misguided pronouncements as they encounter Jesus.  “We were never slaves!”  Really?  From whence, then, did God fetch you to make you a nation?  For all that, what shall we say of your present situation, which so rankles you?  Are you not slaves of Rome?  If not, then why do you not just do as you please and refuse to pay taxes?  But this is what they wanted.  And Jesus repeatedly had to take steps to avoid being coerced into their desired role.  He knew.  Even were He not God incarnate, He would know.  He grew up in this atmosphere, surrounded by these expectations.  It didn’t really need divine knowledge to recognize.  And it was this nationalist mindset that led the people of God to rebel against the Messiah of God when He came.  He wouldn’t play by their rules.  He wasn’t there to satisfy their expectations.  And they wouldn’t be bothered to adjust their expectations to perceive the real scope of what God was doing.

There is a word of caution for us in our day.  Certainly, here in America, there is a strong undercurrent of nationalistic pride in our pursuit of Christianity.  The thought runs that this being the shining city on a hill, God cannot abandon us except it would mean the whole world lost.  Such hubris!  Such failure to learn from history or Scripture.  I mentioned the British Empire earlier.  They had the same view of themselves.  Listen to their national anthem.  It’s fundamentally a declaration that, “we are the new Jerusalem.”  Well, if so, you’ve followed the trajectory of the old Jerusalem, and find yourself effectively in exile once again.  To suppose, then, that America can make similar boast and somehow escape a similar outcome is arrogant in the extreme.  It’s not about earthly nations.  It’s about an eternal kingdom whose scope is not limited by nationalities, geography, or even time.

He will be great.  The Son of the Most High is great.  And He is on His throne, a throne from which He shall never be dislodged.  He reigns now, and He shall reign forevermore.  For the present, the rebel forces that have occupied the earth since Adam’s fall into sin are allowed their place.  But that place shall be removed from them, restored to Him Who sits on the throne.  All His enemies shall be made as a footstool for His feet.  And every last one shall know the necessity of bending the knee to Him, confessing that indeed, He alone is Lord of all.  They may not like it, but they will no longer be in any position to deny it.

Understand, then, that God’s promises are certain.  We may misunderstand them.  We may, in our finite thinking, fail to perceive the full grandeur of the promise, or the full scope of it.  We may incline to hear what we want to hear in those promises, even to perceive promises in things not intended as such.  But what He has truly promised, He will truly bring to pass.  All is yes and amen in Him, and there is no shifting shadow, no transitory, one thing one day, another thing another day aspect to Him.  What was true is true.  What is true shall remain true.  God does not change.  There is continuity from Old Covenant to New Covenant.  It’s not a replacement, but a restoration.  It’s not a rejection, but a fulfillment.  He is here.  He has established His temple and established His throne.  And He is establishing His people, a people with purpose in Him; a people rendered able to reverence Him and submit to His rule with gladness, knowing Him as He is, a good and merciful God and King, a true Shepherd over His flocks.

Reading to Understand (05/11/26)

This may seem to reiterate points already made, and perhaps it truly does so.  Sometimes as I try to sift and sort the points gleaned from my preparations the ideas I have earmarked for later portions yet inform my thoughts in earlier ones.  But I am focused here on how Peter utilizes the passages he has chosen to quote.  As I have probably observed, the Psalm in question presents certain difficulties for us as we seek to understand because David seems to shift his thoughts from his immediate circumstance to future events and back again.  Much of the passage, as we have, I believe, considered, appears to be clearly focused on his own situation.  He is my inheritance, my lot.  It is my heritage, and the LORD has counseled me.  That’s all zeroed in on David, and it continues in that vein right up until we reach verse 10, which is central to Peter’s selection here.  “You will not abandon my soul to Sheol, nor allow Your Holy One to undergo decay” (Ps 16:10).  The natural inclination is to assume that context has persisted right on through, especially as he shifts back to the clearly personal (or what I would see as being clearly personal) immediately thereafter.

There are two things that force us to shift our perspective.  The first, however, is in some degree an artifact of translation.  We read, “Thy Holy One,” and thoughts immediately move past David.  Yes, he was a man after God’s own heart, but hardly God’s Holy One.  And of course the capitalization of that phrase is fully intended to shift our thoughts from David to Christ.  Aha!  You see?  Capital letters.  Of course it’s about Jesus, isn’t it?  But, while that capitalization is clearly the choice of the translator, what is said of this one is not.  Whoever he is, he will not undergo decay.  So, let me pause and observe that the word our translators are translating, chaciyd, can simply indicate a pious person, and while David was not perfect by any stretch, I would account him overall a pious person, and I’m sure you would, too.  But the term is also applied in what we might call a more technical usage to identify those set apart by God for particular purpose, be it prophet, priest, or mediator.  As such, it does take on this specific aspect of identifying Messiah.

Okay, so let us assume the lesser technical meaning.  Can one come up with an example of any prophet or priest or hero of God of whom these words could be thought to speak?  I don’t think so.  And I know I’ve made this point already, but let it be made again.  In all of the Old Testament you will find but two examples, perhaps three if you count Melchizedek.  There is Elijah, of course, carried off to heaven in chariots of fire as Elisha looked on.  But his example lies yet future so far as David is concerned.  I suppose you could posit that David prophesied regarding Elijah, but that doesn’t seem like a thing that happens.  Prophecies generally concern the works of God, not the workers.  I suppose there are exceptions, though.  The only other example that comes to mind is Enoch, and that was a mighty long time ago.  To recall that example is not any particular cause to suppose one was going to evade the grave in his own turn.

Still, the bulk of the Psalm and even of that passage Peter draws from it does seem to find its focus in David himself.  Yet, here is Peter not merely pointing out the obvious problem with trying to apply that one clause to David, but saying that the whole thing has reference not to David himself, but to the One to come.  Do we accuse Peter of making a motivated reading here?  I mean, Peter is still Peter, after all.  He’s hardly a theologian by training or by nature.  He speaks off the cuff, and often in ill-considered haste.  Yet here, we must recognize that we are not encountering Peter in the rough.  We are encountering Peter infilled by the Holy Spirit.  We are encountering Peter speaking under not just inspiration, but revelation.  And as much as that word has been cheapened by modern usage, here it should be understood in its full significance.  He is speaking with the full authority of the Holy Spirit.  His words are preserved to us because the Holy Spirit accounts them approved and necessary for our own spiritual growth.  This being the case, we must necessarily arrive at the conclusion that Peter speaks inerrantly on this occasion.  If he says the whole was about Christ, then so it is.  I wonder if even David realized that as he spoke.  Peter seems to suggest that he was.  He was a prophet, and he knew…

So, what we have before us, it seems to me, is an example of what Paul would later describe as rightly dividing the Word of God.  It’s an example of reading with understanding, not just of the surface meaning of the words, but of the divine intent in what was written.  It gets beyond lexical entries and niceties of syntax.  It gets beyond the person of the author and the circumstances in which he wrote.  It goes deeper; sees farther.  This is not by any stretch license to read whatever analogy or allegory one desires into the bare narrative of Scripture.  But it does invite us to think more deeply, to perceive the greater wonder of divine purpose in what is written.  It is not license to translate in eisegetic fashion, but it does invite introspection.  It does suggest that we ought to be more open to the Spirit’s input as we seek to interpret exegetically.  The call for care remains, but beside it stands the call to listen for the Spirit’s input.

That point to which Peter draws our attention all but requires us to shift our thinking about the remainder of David’s words.  You can feel Peter hammer that point home.  I can speak with absolute confidence about this:  David is dead and buried, and his tomb remains.  He’s not walking out of it.  There’s a point being made here:  David couldn’t have been talking about himself here.  This one clause renders that impossible.  Were he talking about himself, he would be a liar or a fool, and were he a liar or a fool, this would not be set before us in the holy text of Scripture.  It’s impossible!  He is not lying, ergo he must be talking about somebody else, and that somebody else isn’t Solomon, certainly.  He’s just as dead.  Name a king of Judah or Israel, and without exception, you will find the same holds true.  So, who?  WHO?  Him!  David understood the prophetic word delivered to him by Nathan, and, per Peter’s assertion here, was a prophet himself, at least in this moment of inspired pronouncement.  He looked ahead to Messiah, to Christ resurrected.  He spoke of One not retained in Hades, in Sheol, the realm to which all who die proceed.  He spoke of one whose body did not decay in the tomb.

Note well how this is sandwiched within the course of his message.  The previous portion concluded with, “And God raised Him up again, putting an end to the agony of death, which could not possibly hold Him in its power” (Ac 2:24).  The next portion begins with, “This Jesus God raised up again, and we are all witnesses to that fact” (Ac 2:32).  That is the unbelievable, central tenet of Christianity.  Apart from this, there is no Christianity.  Apart from this, the historical Jesus, a fine teacher, perhaps a prophet, is all you have.  You don’t have Messiah.  But He did depart the grave, and that without the aid of human intervention.  No grave robbers were involved.  The body wasn’t spirited away in some grand conspiracy.  I’m sorry.  But even had all 120 of those in the upper room gone out to take His body from the grave, I don’t suppose they would have been sufficient to overwhelm the Romans guarding that grave, and then to push the great stone that sealed the tomb uphill to reopen it.  Nor do I suppose they had the slightest inclination to do so.  They did not as yet understand.  They were scattered, humiliated, in despair for having all their hopes dashed into utter ruin.  They aren’t looking to create a myth.  They are, if anything, wondering if a myth was all they had after all.  But then, He stood in the room with them!  No knock on the door, indeed, so far as we are shown, not even the creak of that door opening.  He’s just there!  Not much is made of that fact in the preaching of these witnesses.  But then, the fact of His not being in the grave was already enough and more.

David died.  This is fully attested.  From the relatively near historical future we have testimony to the fact.  The chronicler of the kings records that, “David slept with his fathers, and was buried in Jerusalem, the city of David” (1Ki 2:10).  This, too, is Scripture, and cannot lie.  No, David, though first informed of the promised heritage by Nathan, was a prophet himself, and looked forward beyond his legacy as he wrote.  He wrote of one to come, and the message Peter drives home from this point is that this one David foresaw has come.  He has been rescued from the grave, and more, He now sits enthroned in heaven.  David may have loved Solomon more than was necessarily right or wise, but he knew these words could no more apply to Solomon than to himself.  He knew, as Peter reminds us, that God had covenanted with him that one of his descendants would be set upon his throne.  But that was more than saying there would be a dynasty of some duration.  And honestly, were that all it was, who cares?  David would still be dead and gone, and other than fatherly concern to leave his kids an inheritance, what was this to him?  Somewhat surprisingly, Peter doesn’t bring forth more of that prophecy, for Nathan did not speak merely of a successor, but of one whose throne would be forever (2Sa 7:13).

This is one of the more curious factors to the preaching of the early church, in my opinion.  They made a great deal of the death and resurrection of Jesus, and rightly so.  Yet, His ascension into heaven, His taking up of this eternal throne is a matter given much less emphasis.  Perhaps it was in deference to the reasonable paranoia of emperors, lest the Church be thought a threat to political order.  Perhaps it was intentional on God’s part, to avoid Christianity being held up as a support for rebellion.  Consider how often we find the matter of slavery addressed, and not in terms of revolt, but rather of submission.  Whatever the case, while the Lordship of Christ is certainly as central to the faith as His resurrection, it is given a reduced role in the declaration of the Gospel.  Perhaps because His restoration to heaven is not the good news.  After all, death could not hold Him.  God cannot die.  His return was inevitable.  But His return as the perfect, sinless son, as the successful federal head of a reborn humanity?  That’s big.  His death putting paid our own debt to eternal God?  That’s beyond big.  That’s the hope of life.  That’s the meaning of life.

So, let us set ourselves in that crowd listening to Peter, just for a moment.  Here is the message:  God foretold of the One to come.  David spoke of it on God’s authority.  As has just been stated, his Psalm could not have been about himself, for he himself is long since dead and buried.  The component atoms of his body have been recycled through who knows what all created things?  At minimum, he has returned to the dust whence he came.  But the one of whom he did speak?  Oh yes, that One has come.  And He has been delivered from the grave.  He did not undergo decay, but continues to live.  You put Him to death, but it didn’t stick.  And get this!  He died for you.  David saw this from afar, and he believed.  You have witnessed these events firsthand.  You may not have seen the risen Jesus, but you are surely aware of the empty tomb.  These things don’t go unnoticed.  And the question is, has to be, what will you do with this news?  How will you respond?  David saw and believed.  He died in hope.  He remains in hope.  What of you?  Will you believe?  Do you?

And what of us?  Poke around the internet for any length of time, and you will find plenty of people who are aghast at the thought of anybody still clinging to religion, Christian or otherwise.  Honestly, though, you can’t help but notice that it is primarily Christian faith that so offends their sensibilities.  Really?  This younger generation is returning to church?  I thought we were beyond all that.  No.  You weren’t beyond it.  You dismissed it from your thinking, threw away the hope of meaning to life.  And you wonder at your misery.  Perhaps you are even blinded to your misery, but those around you are not.  They see clearly what you refuse to acknowledge.  And this younger generation, perhaps because of your misery, seeks answers.  Those answers have always been there.  Here they are again.  This Jesus, a real, live human being who walked the earth like any other, of whom the historical record speaks quite clearly, truly did live a sinless life.  These things recorded in the Gospels are not myth and legend, but historical record, events known to thousands who were yet extent at the time of its writing, and would have denounced it as fantasy were that the case.

This Jesus truly did die, on a cross, executed in the most gruesome manner known to man.  The events of the day made it impossible not to notice.  Eclipses, even if natural occurrences, were noteworthy.  One lasting several hours in a single location?  Unheard of.  And yet, it happened.  Departed souls walking the streets.  Even if it was but for a brief hour or two, still, it’s not the sort of thing one just takes in stride and forgets the next day.  This is not some zombie apocalypse of the modern imagination.  But it’s not something one puts in their false narrative in hopes of convincing the rubes, either.  Had it not happened, it would cause the rest of the message to be disregarded.  No.  These were real events, known events.  The resurrection, for all that the Sanhedrin sought to suppress it, was an attested matter.  As Paul later records, some five hundred or so witnessed His ascension.  Well, you can’t have done that and not seen Him clearly alive and out of the grave!  And when Paul wrote, most of those witnesses were still around to talk to.  These were matters open to confirmation, not the stuff of secret rites and drug-induced visions.  It is real history, and the question remains, given the reality of this Man, how are you going to respond?

As many have observed before me, the evidence is there, and the evidence is overwhelming.  Look, I went many years discounting the whole thing.  Even if there were spiritual realities, and some part of me wanted there to be, if only for the novelty of it, that particular spiritual reality didn’t entice.  What?  I have to change?  Pass, thanks.  What?  I’m not good enough for You?  Well, fine.  I’ll find another.  But of course, there is no other.  The wild fantasies spun out by the mystic pseudo-religions of my youth proved to be just that.  They had intrigue to the mind of stoned youth, but could not hold up to clear-headed inspection, certainly not to testing.  But then, God broke through.  He made His case, and His case was, inevitably, solid.

If, for some reason, there is somebody reading through these rambling thoughts of mine who has not yet encountered the living God, I pray you will.  I pray that as He broke through and made Himself known to me, He would do the same for you.  I cannot give you some formula to follow to make it so.  It’s not like that.  I know for my case, His approach was tailored to me.  He knew what would click.  Of course He did.  He made me!  But He didn’t demand some ritual approach.  He approached me, in terms I would find acceptable and intriguing, and did not demand belief, but offered the test upon which belief could be established.  I tested, and having tested, I have believed, and having believed, I continue to believe because He has continued to demonstrate Himself true.

What more can I say?  He lives!  And as the old song goes, because He lives, I can face tomorrow.  Because He lives, I can rejoice in today.  Because He lives, though this life may seem painful, unreasonable, even pointless at times, I know there is purpose in it.   And I know that He still holds me fast.  I shall reach the goal He has set.  I shall know a time when sin is no longer my inevitable course.  I shall meet Him on that day He has set in His calendar and be received into that inheritance He has established for me, there to enjoy the full wonder of His presence forever.  And it shall be glorious, for He is glorious.

Implications (05/12/26)

We have had something of a lesson in biblical interpretation, which is well and good.  But if that is all we take away from the exercise, then all we have had is a bit of exercise.  What we need is change.  What we need is God.  Having been a Christian for some time now, I think my tendency is to identify with those up in that room, standing alongside Peter, already convinced of the truth of salvation.  But we will be better served to identify with those below.  Some, perhaps most, thought themselves sufficiently knowledgeable of Scripture, and all were fully trained in the traditions and the vocabulary of worship as commonly practiced.  But here was something old become something new.  Here was this Galilean fisherman speaking with unwarranted authority, talking of familiar passages, but causing us to stop and think a minute.

He spoke of David, the great hero of Israel, and in many ways, the emblem of her hope.  Yes, there was the promise Moses had made of another prophet like himself to come.  But David!  David was the man!  He had made the kingdom thrive.  He had driven off her enemies.  That’s what was needed here, surely?  That’s what everybody expected Messiah to be.  And Peter is speaking right into that expectation.  “God swore to put one of his descendants on his throne.”  And though the notice of ‘forever’ is absent from that quote, it’s there in what he had already said, “You won’t allow Your holy one to undergo decay.”

But David’s dead, as he so kindly reminds us.  The kingdom’s as good as dead.  What have we got when Rome rules the temple and the throne?  That’s the problem with heroes.  They don’t last.  The high points don’t persist.  So the question must arise.  What is it to us?  David had this promise, but David’s dead.  There was this assurance of one on the throne, but that throne is long gone.  Are we fools to continue this belief in God?  Are His words untrustworthy after all, no better than Greek oracles or Roman omens?

Of course, Peter doesn’t leave them in contemplations of a glorious past.  He brings them to the present, insisting that David was looking to this very future in which they were walking.  “He looked ahead and spoke of Jesus resurrected.”  And it has happened!  That’s the glorious reality of current events, folks!  This Jesus, whom you killed, was not left among the dead.  His flesh is not decaying in the tomb.  He lives!  And living, He lives forevermore.  What does this mean for you?  For me?  What does it say about this God we have followed?  He doesn’t lie.  He has not failed.  He has not been defeated.  It’s not about Rome.  It’s not even about Jerusalem, such as she is today.  It’s about the kingdom of heaven and her King, our Savior.  How does this inform life here and now?  One far greater than David has come.  One far more powerful than all the combined empires of the world has come.  One so great as to have conquered death not just for Himself, but for all who belong to Him, all who are citizens of His kingdom.  And that kingdom, folks, isn’t confined to tiny Israel.  It’s not dependent upon the might and wisdom of some mortal hero.  It rests secure under the lordship of heaven’s eternal King.

Now, that’s all well and good, but unless we are citizens of that kingdom, I’m not sure we can account it good news.  And that must especially apply to those whom Peter had just finished saying had put this eternal King to death.  You killed Him!  You, who should have known better.  You, with all your expectations of Messiah, knocked Him off because He didn’t meet your expectations.  You wanted a hero, and you got one, but you didn’t recognize it because He didn’t perform to your specifications.  What of it?  He is King, not you!  But you!  You have been too focused on earthly matters.  Your concern has been solely for power in the present.  You think of God’s kingdom and only arrive at political Israel.  Let us bring it forward to the present.  You think of God’s kingdom and think only of America.  You conflate the two, and honestly, concern yourself primarily with the political.  Let’s just leave it there.  Specifics of nation don’t particularly matter.  It’s the mindset.  Christianity becomes a matter of nationhood.  Our faith becomes just one more aspect of tribalism, and our identity, rather than being lifted to considerations of our true citizenship in heaven, remains earthbound, tribal, combative, perhaps defensive.

So, the questions come to us.  How have you responded to the message of Christ, and how do you respond going forward?  Do you live in hope, or are your hopes vested in trends in the news?  Is your faith in God, really, or is it resting on circumstance?  What matters more to you, public opinion or divine judgment?  Look, we all know the answers that should apply.  But that’s not the issue.  It’s not about reciting the correct responses.  It’s about truly living them.  To be in the Church is to be invited to recall former ways, and to receive not just the wishful hope, but the powerful potential to live according to this new way.  But it’s not just about lifestyle choices.  It’s not just swapping one set of patterns and habits for another.  It’s true life change.  All of us who have come to faith can surely look to former habits, former attitudes, which have gone the way of the dodo.  All of us, sadly, can also bring to mind moments when former habits have reasserted themselves.  Battles we thought done and over come back to roil our present.  Do we recall God’s past faithfulness, or do we assume abandonment?

We are surrounded by a post-Christian culture, invaded by proponents of alternative religions, or irreligiousness.  We are derided as backward fools.  Well, recall the immediate response to what had transpired here in this scene.  Ah, it’s just a bunch of Galileans.  What do they know?  They’re probably just drunk.  Ah, it’s just those Christians with their anachronistic clinging to religion.  Pay them no mind.  Laugh at them in their benighted, backwater ways.  And how do you respond?  Faced with militant unbelief, do we remain ashamed of our past?  “You were like them!”  Or do we become ashamed of our present?  Do we seek to fit in, go along to get along?  Or do we pursue our purpose of transformation and seek to change the culture by the evident change in us?  If we are not proud of the Gospel, excited to share it with whomever will stop long enough to hear it, why not?  Is it not that we remain too focused on the stuff of earth to truly lay hold of the stuff of heaven?

If we really believe in God, that entails far more than being convinced of the message on a given Sunday.  That entails far more than agreeing with Scripture in our private times.  It means living it, whenever and wherever.  It means when I go to work later today it is not as some different persona, but as a child of God.  When I deal with finances, doctors, or whatever it may be, I do so as a child of God.  Whatever it is I may face today, or tomorrow, or in whatever days remain to this life, I do so as one who knows he has a hope and a future.  Even when my time comes and my days are done, I have a hope and a future, because He has said so.

A later sermon, delivered by Stephen as he was on trial for his life, makes the point beautifully in Acts 7.  He recalls the judges of religion of their own history, the proud descendants of their patriarchs, and in so doing drops in briefly on the record of Joseph which comes as the climax to the first book of Moses.  Here was one who had God’s promise upon his life, and what transpired?  His own brothers conspired against him in their jealousy, caused him to be sold off into slavery!  And then comes that declaration which comes as the beating pulse of this book.  “And yet God was with him” (Ac 7:9b).  He rescued him from all his afflictions, granted him favor, and set him over all Egypt!  So, the reminder unfolds.  God’s promise stands unaltered by the machinations of man and devil alike.

This still holds true even in our day.  Yes, there were those in the first century who were convinced Jesus must return in their lifetime.  And there were those who, because of this conviction, became doubtful as they saw their fellow believers dying and still no Jesus.  They felt their own lives fading and still no Jesus.  They learned of the Apostles passing, and still no Jesus.  Was it all just another tale?  Had hope been in vain after all?  No!  Would that that “No!” would thunder from the page!  No, His purpose goes forward.  All is proceeding according to His good and perfect, unfaltering plan.  The world around us seems to plunge headlong into darkness and still it holds true.  “Thy will be done.”  Thy will is done.  It cannot be otherwise.  And this reality, perhaps hitting afresh this morning, demands response.

Those who stood outside hearing Peter could not just brush this off.  They were listening and they were hearing, hearing with understanding.  And having heard, they would be required to choose.  Will you come to this One you killed and be forgiven?  Or will you walk away and be condemned?  Will you hear this message and continue unchanged?  Or will you allow the transforming work of God?  Will you believe?

Now, I posit that as an exercise of the will of man, and to be sure, the will of man is quite certainly involved in the matter.  But let me tell you this.  The will of man never once brought a man to faith, never could respond in faith.  The choice to walk away or seek forgiveness is ours, and yet it is inevitable that we will choose as we choose.  It is inevitable because God speaks and it is so.  He knew, even as He prompted Peter to deliver this message, exactly who in that crowd outside would respond in faith, for He sent His Spirit forth in that very moment to transform hearts of stone into hearts of flesh able to receive and respond.  He knew, as well, every one of those who would walk away, and for the same reason:  He had not sent forth His Spirit into their hearts.  God remains, per His own declaration, both the Author and the Finisher of our faith (Heb 12:2).  It cannot so much as make a beginning without Him, and it cannot have the slightest hope of final victory without Him.

So, then, believer, this is our story.  “And yet God was with him.”  That’s me.  That’s you.  That’s the true reality, whatever the stuff of this life may be shouting to the contrary.  And the question comes.  What will you do with that understanding?  Will you respond?  Will you stand proudly, gladly with your Savior and King?  Or will you hide away your true citizenship?  And if you hide it away, what do you suppose will be your reception when our King comes to receive His kingdom in full?

Lord, help us.  Help us to walk boldly amidst the doubts.  Help us to set aside concerns for personal reputation, personal acceptance, personal safety, and truly put our trust in You.  These Apostles were hardly assured of a comfortable life.  Quite the opposite.  To a man, they faced torture, pain, sorrow, and death.  And they did so with humble joy in being found worthy to suffer with You.  We have become too comfortable, too addicted to comfort.  Strengthen us, my God, that we may, like our forebears, stand firm, stand boldly proclaiming our trust in You.  And may we, even at this late stage, bring about change in those who witness Your work in us.  Forgive us our programs and initiatives, and let us commit ourselves to a faith lived out in public, trusting Your program to achieve Your ends.