Setting the Scene (06/25/26-06/26/26)

This is a fairly large portion of text to consider, and there is much to contemplate in it.  It is also in the way of being historical narrative, and that may color how we look at it.  To begin with, we should be cautioned against supposing this is intended to set out a defining behavior for every believer.  That is to say, we are being told what happened on this occasion, not necessarily being instructed to make this our general practice.  Whether or not there is any such instructional application for us must be determined carefully, prayerfully, not taken as a given.

But I want to begin with some relatively minor considerations.  First, I find myself wondering as to why Luke presents this in the particular fashion he does.  For instance, having just wrapped up his presentation of Peter’s first sermon on that first Pentecost after Jesus’ ascension, why do we have John brought into the picture here?  So far as the narrative flow goes, and so far as the action presented is concerned, his presence seems an unimportant detail.  I will observe a few things that may apply.  First, we can look at the tendency Luke has had to present these two as a team.  It’s there repeatedly in his gospel account.  Peter and John, for instance, are sent by Jesus to prepare the upper room for their last Passover together with Him.  Peter and John, Peter and John.  We might also observe that this pair consists of the oldest and youngest members of that original crew.  As such, one could take this as a shorthand expression of the whole group.  That may be a stretch, though.  I don’t want to read more into this than pertains.

Another aspect of this mention is that it would appear to demonstrate that the Apostles continued, at least in these earliest days, to operate as they had been trained.  From the first, they had been paired up.  For Peter and John, this naturally translated to family pairs, particularly in those earliest days.  They had been called as brothers, it seems; Andrew bringing Peter in, James and John actually called together from their father’s boat.  We have a few interesting inferences in regards to these four, which might explain in some degree how they came to be so deeply connected with Jesus.  I see it posited that James and John in particular may have been Jesus’ cousins.  If so, then He was someone known to them, if not necessarily familiar as a close companion.  That might also explain Salome’s assumption of propriety in seeking that Jesus would assign them prominent position in His kingdom.  Then, two, these four seem clearly to have been partners in their family business of fishing.  Whether they often went out as a team or not is not directly stated.  What exactly the business relationship between Peter’s family and the Zebedees does not find definition in the record either.  But they worked the same waters from the same town, and it seems clear enough that they knew each other well.

Of course we know that Peter, James, and John formed the inner circle amongst Jesus’ disciples.  One might ask why Andrew does not find inclusion in this group, but there is no answer given.  At any rate, these three were those whom Jesus called to His side on the most intimate occasions of His revealed glory.  They are there when He restores life to the little girl.  They are there when He is transfigured on the mountaintop.  They are there as He prays on the evening of His arrest.  Clearly, these three had significance to Jesus, a greater purpose, if you will.  But then, by the time Luke is composing his account, James has been martyred.  As such, James is not known to Luke, whereas it is quite reasonable to think that he has met and spent time with Peter and John.  Those three, or perhaps it is James the brother of Jesus by that point, were accounted the pillars of the church according to Paul, the Supreme Court, if you will.  But James, whichever one, is not involved in this event.

So, why is John mentioned?  I don’t know as I have arrived at an answer, other than that he was present, and whoever had been the source of Luke’s information in regard to this event, which seems likely to have been Philip, considered it important to note John’s presence.  Clearly, John was significant to the church even as Luke was writing.  Perhaps he had already begun to take a more active role amongst the churches in Asia Minor, with Paul facing imprisonment in Rome.  Perhaps not.  I am not going to expend the energy to try and correlate those threads any further.  But he is mentioned, and I would observe that Peter, even in acting, involves him in the action.  This is not Peter’s show.  It is a unified action.  We’ll discuss that more, perhaps, as this study continues.  But it is a note that adds continuity to the narrative of the Gospel accounts.  It was Peter and John together then.  It is Peter and John together now.  And they are both, it would seem, keenly aware of the Spirit’s direction.  Peter’s command to the beggar is not, “Look at me.”  It is, “Look at us.” 

That, I dare say, is significant, and might well serve as a lesson to be learned for us in the present.  “Look at me,” is the instruction of one who seeks to make a name for himself.  “Look at us,” is more along the lines of presenting evidence, of drawing attention to what’s happening rather than the individuals through which it may happen to occur.  If we would serve Christ, then it must follow that we cease from self-serving behaviors.  If our contributions to ministry have become efforts at being seen, then we have adopted the ways of the Pharisees, and this has never had a place in the heart of God.  It is not so much that we must become nameless, faceless followers of Christ.  The Apostles could hardly be said to have taken such a course, nor those who labored alongside them.  But there is a selflessness to that labor, a determined lack of competition which seeks always to recognize the partnership, the fellowship of which we have all been made a part.  The lesson remains that we are not put into service so as to lord it over others, nor so as to have something of which to boast.  We are put into service primarily so that we can be assured of our faith, secondarily so that we may help others by that which has helped us.  Perhaps I should swap the order of those, for it does seem our prime function in the fellowship is intended to be that of building one another up in sound faith.  That this serves to bolster our own confidence in faith at the same time is something of a bonus.

Okay, switch of topic.  As Luke speaks of this man so familiar to all the regulars at afternoon prayer service, he twice speaks of him seeking alms.  Some of our newer translations incline to think that their readers no longer understand what alms are, and thus undertake to explain what this means, and that it was not in fact a thing to be stigmatized.  I expect, however, that most are familiar enough with the man or woman stationed at this intersection or that, seeking aid from those driving by.  Our opinion of them, and suspicion that they may not be on the up and up may be different than the view which would prevail in Jerusalem in that period, but then again, perhaps not.  I have little doubt that one would find some among those begging whose need was not so dire as all that.  But then there were those like the man being described, whose physical appearance would clearly indicate the veracity of his plea.  One might construe it as evidence of some terrible sin either in him or his parents, but one could not deny his immobility.  And that immobility would have severely constricted, if not wholly eliminated any possibility of gainful labor.  So, he is reduced to asking alms.  And I would suggest that his response to what happens this day gives clear evidence that he saw his condition in just such terms.  He was reduced to this, and would gladly have it otherwise.

In the course of describing the situation, Luke uses two separate terms to describe his asking.  The NASB hints at this in that the first speak of him begging alms in verse 2, and then say he was asking for them in verse 3, as he addresses Peter and John personally.  There are indeed two distinct terms, aitein and erota.  It could just be that Luke, being a rather good writer, seeks to vary his wording.  But it could also be more than that.  Now, it seems opinions vary as to the difference between the two, or if there really is any, and that latter question would appear to shift over time.  The suggestion is that the first term indicates the request of the inferior to the superior.  That is not necessarily implying anything as to quality, but rather a matter of position.  A slave seeking something of his master, or, we might suppose, a citizen seeking something from the governor, might be said to ask in such a sense.  Erota, in this understanding, shifts the situation to a request between those of equal standing.

Were we to read such a distinction into this account, it would suggest that in general, the beggar viewed those coming to temple as of superior standing, of higher class, but then saw in the Apostles something that marked them more as his social equals.  Again, bear in mind that being reduced to begging for one’s sustenance need not have declared this man lower class, as we tend to understand class.  But it would seem to me rather surprising for any such shift in attitude to apply here.  So, let us recognize that over time, where these two terms may have once held a particularly distinct meaning, they grew to be rather more synonymous.  But let’s consider a few other aspects of this before I move on to the meat of this passage.  Thayer indicates an alternate understanding of the distinction, with aitein being focused on the object of the request, and erota on the action sought of the one asked.  That difference would fit here, would it not?  The general description of this man’s plight gives reason for an initial focus on the goal.  He’s here in hopes of obtaining some bit of charity to get him through another day.  But something in Peter and John suggest that they might be more open to such an appeal, and as he focuses more directly on them, the nature of his begging shifts.  Now, he is asking specific action of these two.  The goal is no different, but perhaps something in the tone changes as he moves from general appeal to whoever might toss a coin to this specific addressing of the two.

Thayer offers one more tidbit in the discussion of these two terms, and that is to observe that this application of erota to the matter of begging is a particularity of Hebraic usage.  That is to say, one would have been far less likely to encounter this usage in, say, Philippi or Corinth.  I bring this up in that it offers us one more hint as to these early chapters of Luke’s account being sourced from somebody in or near Jerusalem.  Our introductory efforts brought the suggestion of Philip the evangelist as his source for these early years of the church, which I think we are to equate with Philip the Apostle, but I can’t swear to that.  Perhaps we’ll firm that up later when we come to it.  But whether it was Philip or somebody else, it does seem that Luke obtained the material for this first portion of Acts from those who had been present to witness events unfolding.  The level of detail suggests it.  The injection of these Hebraic linguistic tells gives further indication of such sourcing of his material.  Is this necessarily the case?  I suppose not.  He could as readily have picked up certain linguistic patterns from being around Paul for so many years.  But then, Paul was a more cosmopolitan sort, versed in Roman and Asian influences as much as those of his native Hebrew.

So, it is at least interesting to observe these details, though it may not serve any particular purpose as concerns our spiritual development.  I do think there is value in seeing the natural development of these writings, as well as seeing these incidental proofs of authenticity, of veracity.  Certainly, this is no whole-cloth manufacturing of myth about the man.  Indeed, if anything, I might expect Luke to downplay Peter’s role, and that he most certainly does not do.  There is a clear attempt to demonstrate the equal standing of Peter and Paul over the course of this book.  We see, for example, that Paul’s healing of one born lame comes up later.  And likewise, it seems for each miracle we find done through Peter, Paul is shown to have done the same.  And throughout the record of the New Testament, we find the equality and harmony of these two set forth.  Yes, Peter had the advantage of having been with Jesus those three years of His earthly ministry, but Paul had the advantage of three years in what would appear to have been private tutoring under the same Master.  Yes, they had their individual strengths, and their individual fields of endeavor, but they had one Gospel, one Truth, one God.  That is a testimony which Luke confirms, even as he presents the development of the Church from a remnant seeking meaning after the death of Christ to an international faith permeating the known world.

That harmony ought rightly to continue amongst us, though we may have our many denominations.  Yes, there are clearly boundaries beyond which harmony is not possible, even if those on either side call themselves Christians.  Many are those whose claims are made falsely, and the Epistles in particular make it clear that this was already the case before ever the Apostles left the scene.  So, it’s no surprise that we still deal with false teachers and false prophets to this day.  But praise be to God that we have the testimony of these Scriptures which He caused to be authored and which He has acted through the ages to preserve intact, in order that we might have a sure and attested resource to which we can turn when questions and conflicts arise.  Here is the Truth.  Let us be that much more determined to stand in it.  But where we consider mere distinctions of understanding that vary between men of good faith, let there be harmonious unity even if there is a dividing into separate bodies in pursuit of that unity.

On Whose Authority? (06/27/26-06/28/26)

So, Peter and John are on their way to the temple.  Luke does not suggest that this was unusual, nor that it was some immediate follow up to the events of Pentecost.  It reads more as though this had become a pretty common feature of life.  Now, whether the hour of prayer would have been a matter of daily occurrence or weekly, I’m not certain, and the footnotes I’ve seen thus far don’t go farther than to note that this would be about 3 PM, given it was the ninth hour.  But was it 3 PM on the Sabbath?  3 PM on some random day?  I’d have to know far more about temple practices to be able to answer that.  I do see some attempt to link this to the evening sacrifice, which would suggest more a daily pattern.  And we have that note that daily gatherings at the temple were part of their practice (Ac 2:46).  So, any given day.  And we can further surmise that this wasn’t the first time they’d been down this road.  As such, it wasn’t the first time that they’d encountered this man at the gate.

What this says to us is that this wasn’t some premeditated action on the part of Peter or John.  They hadn’t been chatting over breakfast and saying, “Hey, let’s see if we can’t heal that guy today.”  There had been no counsel of the Apostles the night before considering how they might advertise this new church and attract more followers.  For one, they already had far more than they could easily handle.  Remember – three thousand that first day alone, and it hadn’t stopped growing.  They had not need to advertise, nor as yet any need to burnish their credentials as leaders.  That wasn’t in question.  This was just the two of them going to church, as it were, seeing this man being brought to his usual spot.  Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing to suggest that this was something in which they needed to be involved.  Everything was just as it was every day.  So, it would not be unreasonable to ask why today proved different.

Indeed, I think it is rather critical to perceive why today was different for them.  Could it be that Peter was just being his usual impetuous self?  I mean, we’ve seen him over the years, and he’s always been the one to jump to conclusions, to dare more, if you will.  But then, this is a different Peter than the one who was so quick to speak whatever thought popped into his head.  He has matured.  He has grown.  He has been humbled sufficiently to understand that he must rely on Christ, on the Holy Spirit to direct.  I would expect that this new burden of what had become a seriously large church had only made this all the more the case.  Even with our much smaller church, I know well enough how the weight of the elder’s office rested on me.  It is not a position to take up for the excitement and prestige, and woe to that elder who thinks it’s his opportunity to push an agenda!  No.  It’s a shepherding task, and as an undershepherd at that.  It is more a conservatorship than a directorate.  After all, those we lead and serve are in no way our own, but rather the possession of our own Lord and King.  Add that they are family, and I think we perhaps begin to feel more the weight of responsibility, the concern that would accompany every decision.

All this to say that Peter and John did not happen upon this guy and just decide on a whim to see if they couldn’t heal him.  For one, they would know full well that they, in their own power could not.  For another, I think the both of them are by now fully disabused of any tendency toward presumption which they may have had.  Peter has ceased to be impetuous, but has, I suspect, become rather more attuned to hearing and heeding the Holy Spirit.  And that is an absolutely key factor to bear in mind as we contemplate this, and any other activity we find believers pursuing in these pages.  We are not being given some template to follow which would insist that wherever we see somebody with some physical malady, we ought to simply assume God wants to heal them here and now.  We are not hereby instructed or even advised that we ought to simply accost strangers, grabbing them and pulling them out of wheelchairs or whatnot, insisting they must now be healed.

If that had been the case, we should read of a greater immediacy connecting this scene to the last, for if that had been true of this day, it would have been equally true of every day preceding.  But the healing is not the point here.  I’ll have more to say on that in the next part of the study.  Right now, I’m focused more on Peter’s choice of acting.  And on that subject, the point is clear to me.  Peter did not presume.  Had he been presumptuous in hauling this man to his feet, I dare say we would be happening upon a scene of deep humiliation on his part, as the man quickly fell back to the ground.  And the involvement of John, however ancillary, confirms the case.  They both fixed their eyes on this man, not because they were only seeing him for the first time, but because they both perceived the Spirit’s prompting on this matter.  This was not, then, a testing of new powers, but rather a necessitated action.  The Lord said, “Do,” and so they must do.

Honestly, can you imagine?  Even with that prompting, even with the experience they had of Jesus performing such miracles, and yes, they had some small experience of doing such things themselves, it was not in a place like this, not with the whole city, as it were, looking on.  I reference, of course, the brief description we get of that first training in solo flight that Jesus gave His disciples.  And it wasn’t solo, of course.  They went out in pairs, just as here.  But they went out with authorization and power – delegated power, but power nonetheless – to heal, to cast out demons, to call believers; and they had used that power to good effect.  So, they knew it was a potential.  But I would still say that this occasion is very different.  For one, their Teacher is not with them anymore, but enthroned as Lord in heaven.  One might take that as reason for greater confidence, and probably should.  But I would venture that the more normal reaction would be that His remoteness would lead to greater doubts that any such result would transpire.  Add that on that earliest occasion they were functioning under direct orders.  The purpose and the authorization were clearly stated.  Now, they must proceed with more of an intuited perception of purpose and authorization as the days unfold.  But they are not without guidance.  It’s just that now the instruction comes from the Spirit, and that can prove a bit more difficult to receive with clarity.

Most of us, I expect, have found that as we grow in Christ and in the knowledge given us by Scripture, feel we have become more attuned to hearing the Spirit.  But I expect most of us also experience doubts in that regard.  Is this the Holy Spirit, or just my own proclivities?  Am I hearing Him clearly, or am I acting on some emotional response, some desire for a given outcome?  Look.  I have known of ministries that would in fact go out with just such an audacious presumption of God backing them up.  They would go out and pretty well insist on handicapped individuals rising from their wheelchairs.  Now, I can’t speak to whether they truly sought the Spirit on each individual case, or whether they simply felt that any and all sickness was to be thus addressed.  But their training material, what little I could convince myself to read, suggests the latter was more the case.  And who knows?  Perhaps God, on the basis of maintaining His reputation, would back them up even if they were presumptuous.  But I wouldn’t want to stake my reputation on that continuing.

So, what I perceive here is that Peter had clear instruction as to the thing he now does, and that indicates further that God had clear purpose in having Peter do so.  And, if life is a training ground for heaven, as we are often advised, then any presumption on Peter’s part would likely have been met with a humbling result, in order that he might learn to cease from such presumption.

We know that Peter could be a bit headstrong.  We have seen him in action before.  He is always ready to jump in with a question or a response to question.  He is always ready to act.  He’s a fisherman, after all.  I suppose life has trained him to act quickly and decisively.  John likewise, but perhaps to lesser degree given his younger age.  But he had learned, Peter had.  He had learned to temper that readiness with wisdom and counsel.  He is being shaped, after all, as a leader in the church Christ is building.  So, on this occasion, we must infer that Peter was hearing instruction to act, and John was hearing it as well.  It was not an audible call, but both of them recognized the Spirit’s prompting, and the one confirmed the other in that this was to be done.

Perhaps you’ve experienced such moments yourself.  It doesn’t necessarily involve healing somebody.  It might simply be a word that is to be spoken.  It might be in the course of preaching or worshiping or praying or some such.  But there is a feeling, an urgency that comes upon you, as the Spirit takes the reins, as it were.  I have felt it on occasion.  I felt it at times when teaching in Africa.  There’s a sudden call to shift the direction of what I planned to teach, to emphasize some particular point, or to take note of an application specific to the moment.  There are other times when, high on this realization of being used of God, I might mistake my urges for His.  Or, I might become too intrigued by His using me to be useful.  That, I think, happens more often in times of worship, when I discover myself playing beyond my means.  If I become too wrapped up in, “Wow!  Look what I’m doing!” it will come to a crashing end in short order.  If I retain the worshipful appreciation of what He is doing, that’s a different story.  And that is the key to perceiving the events of this passage.  Peter is not about what Peter is doing.  Peter is all about being available to God for what He is doing.  And that makes all the difference.

There will be time enough after the action to contemplate the wonder of being thus used.  And it is a wonder.  I remember that one point in our first visit to Lesotho when the lesson I was giving was received to so great an effect.  Now, I had been coming out of a cloud of doubt at the time, had been undergoing my own training in relying more on the Lord, less on my preparation, but to see such a response!  Oh my!  It takes some time to process what just happened, and I am thankful that our pastor was sensitive to that processing going on and spent some time with me as I regained my balance.  It’s the sort of thing that can make you hungry to experience more, and that hunger, left to itself, will lead to performance, rather than to prayer.  Such a misdirection of desire will doubtless lead to fruitless works.  We must remain mindful that it is God who acts and God who authorizes.  It is indeed a great joy to be an instrument in His hands, but far be it from us to try and play His tune without Him!

Here is something we need to recognize.  Observe that as Peter begins to speak to this man with authority, he first gives notice from whence this authority derives.  For you or I to walk up to some obviously impaired individual and demand that they do that which their impairment precludes would be not so much audacious as rude.  It would, and probably should translate as acting so as to ridicule that poor victim.  May as well ask your two year old to make supper tonight, or insist that your dog debate the significance of Plato with you.  It would serve only to demonstrate that you are a fool, or that your disdain for the one you make demands of knows no bounds.

Oh, you say, but I said the phrase!  I said, “In the name of Jesus,” doesn’t that mean He is now duty bound to back me up?  No.  No it does not.  But, but, Scripture says that whatever we ask in His name, God will do, and Scripture is true, right?  Well, yes, Scripture is true, and truly understood, you will ever find it so.  But what Scripture does not in any way teach is that this phrase is some sort of mantra or magical spell by which to bind God to our wishes.  To act thusly is to wholly misunderstand both the phrase and our relationship with the Almighty.  We have to get this settled, and when we do, it ought, if anything, to make us far more careful of uttering that phrase.  It’s not just formulaic.  It’s utterly inappropriate to make of it no more than a means of indicating we are done with our prayer.  And let’s face it.  Many’s the time that this is about all the significance we assign to those words.  For others, yes, there is this sense that this puts them in the driver’s seat, and they can make demand upon God to act.  Well, let’s set that aside right quick!  You and I will never be in any position to make demand upon God.  We are His bondservants, not His managers.

Settle in on this point.  To speak in the name, or to act in the name, either one; this is not a claim to be made lightly.  Indeed, to undertake to speak in the name of the Lord, or to claim to be acting in the name of the Lord, is but a very small step from prophesying, “Thus says the Lord.”  I suspect that from God’s perspective, they are much the same thing.  It is a claim upon His authorization, a claim to be exercising His power.  Certainly, in this instance we would have to conclude that Peter is doing both.  He is indicating to this man that what he is commanding is not commanded on the basis of his own non-existent authority, but rather is spoken under the compelling guidance of God Himself.  Hear it thusly.  “I am not telling you to get up, God is.”  Now, that is much softened by his preamble.  “I don’t have any money to give you, but I do have something, and what I have I gladly give to you.”  Yes, I am paraphrasing with great liberty here, but I don’t think I miss the sentiment intended.

Now, simultaneously with giving this man reason to heed that command, Peter is assigning the credit for his discovering himself able to comply to God as well.  It is on the authority of God that I command you to get up.  It is by the power of God that you find yourself able to comply.  Where this is true, we ought to be fearless both in speaking and in acting.  The problem, I think, is that we most often do not do so where this is true, but rather simply say those words with about the same power and sincerity as apply when we ask somebody in the coffee shop, “how are you?”  It’s polite, but it expects no real answer.  It’s just a formality.  It’s what one does in such a situation.  So, we offer or prayer, and we toss on the requisite appendage, “in the name of Jesus,” and then we move on to the next thing, expecting nothing and getting nothing.  And in doing so, in what manner can we say we have honored the Lord we claim to serve?  We have, if anything, damaged His prestige by making this claim when He had not in fact indicated that we should do so.  We have claimed to represent Him, but have done so falsely.  We may not even have been thinking in terms of making such a claim, but we did.  And we thereby made the outcome of our prayer, the efficacy of our deed, to be a measure of His power, of His reliability.  Thus, should He fail to respond in accordance with our words and actions, rather than finding us faulty in the exercise of our proper duties, those watching take it to be evidence that the God we serve is a powerless figment of the imagination.

Is it any wonder that God takes it so seriously when false claims are made to His authorization?  I mentioned that likeness to the matter of prophecy, and if you are familiar with my thinking at all, you will know that this brings up consideration of the Mosaic Law in regard to the prophet.  To speak, claiming to do so with the authority of God, when He has not in fact authorized your declaration, is a crime punishable by death.  A false prophet was to be purged from the land.  You see that same fierce response to falsely claimed divine authorization in how the Apostles dealt with false teachers in the foundling church.  It was one thing to speak with those who promoted a completely different religion with a completely different god.  They would seek to inform such a one of the true God, but it would be done with companionable manner.  I remain struck by the statement that when riots arose against Paul in Ephesus, it was the priests or managers of the religion of Artemis who came alongside him as counsel and friend, speaking up on his behalf.  But let Paul catch wind of somebody preaching a false gospel in the church!  Let him learn of Judaizers come to trouble the believers with unauthorized demands!  Then, you are faced with a lion of the faith.  John, the beloved disciple, so often thought of as the gentle, kind Apostle, becomes implacable when met with false teachers, or teaching the church how to address them.  “They went out from us because they were never of us” (1Jn 2:19).  “Don’t even receive such a one into your house.  Don’t even greet him, lest your greeting be taken as approval of his evil deeds” (2Jn 10-11).

This would ever be the question that the Sadducees and Pharisees insisted that Christians answer.  “On whose authority do you speak?  Who authorized you to act?”  This they demanded of the Son of God Himself!  How dare you heal on the Sabbath!  Who authorized this?  How dare you do miracles!  Who authorized this?  But while they thought themselves, perhaps, to be defending the holiness, the purity of the ancient faith, what this truly demonstrated is that they had no understanding of what those miracles were intended to do.  Or, if they did understand, they didn’t care.  He was a threat to their power and prestige, and that being the case, He must go.

So, we are here.  To make claim upon the name of Jesus is to make claim of acting as He has authorized, speaking as He has said to speak.  Now, let me just say, this does not mean to suggest that we ought to refrain from speaking or acting until and unless we have a clear prompting of the Holy Spirit, preferably an audible, indicating we are to say, to do.  We are, after all, called to mature in our faith.  We ought to have some reasonable understanding of how we ought to speak or act in a given situation, and not every situation calls for appealing for miraculous intervention.  We are, in this passage, rather concerned with the miraculous, but not as something which ought to become the focus of our faith.  Much like the phrase, “in the name of Jesus,” we have a propensity to assign far more significance to miracles than they are intended to possess.  Or perhaps it would be better said that we make the same mistake as the Pharisees, discounting the intent of the miracle, and focusing solely on the miracle itself.  That begins to move me into the next section of the study, but it bears consideration here, under the head of, “On Whose Authority?”

If our appeal to the name of Jesus is a claim made upon His authorization, the miracle done in response was and is intended as confirmation of that claim.  It is God’s way of indicating that yes, this one speaks for Me.  That is not in any way to suggest that where there are no such demonstrative miracles, we should conclude there is no authorization.  It is clear enough from the record that miracles were never the necessary companion of true teaching or of true godliness.  These were reserved for moments of critical development in the purpose of redemption as God unfolded His plan.  We have the cluster of miracles as Moses bears witness to Pharaoh, and as he leads God’s people through the wilderness.  Why?  God was doing something big, and establishing something new.  We have a flurry of miracles as Israel devolved from the height of the Davidic kingdom.  And why?  Because significant events were unfolding.  God was once again moving to crush idolatry, and would act so as to properly reprimand and punish His children in order that they might once more turn to Him.  We have the cluster of miracles which marked out the ministry of Jesus.  And why?  Because God was doing something decisive in regard to the issue of sin.  Here is the Son of God come.  Here is a new covenant established, a complete shift from what the Mosaic order had become.  And He speaking a new covenant and a new commandment, it needed clear indication of God’s authorization, just as Moses’ declaration of the law had required.  “This is My beloved Son.  Listen to Him.”  That is what every miracle done through Jesus proclaimed.  That is what this miracle done through Peter proclaimed.  It still proclaimed Jesus, the beloved Son of God.  But now, it also serves to mark out Peter as an authorized agent of heaven’s King.

Peter, it seems, understood this.  Go back to his sermon in the last chapter.  Hear again his words to Israel.  “Men of Israel, listen up!”  You might recognize a certain parallel between this and his insistence that this lame man, “Look at us!”  He continued.  “Jesus the Nazarene, whom God attested to you by miracles, signs and wonders, performed through Him before your eyes…” (Ac 2:22).  The miracles weren’t about the miracles.  They were about declaring God’s authorization, His approval of the Man and the Message.  That same held with the Apostles, as the appointed expositors and commenters upon that Message.  Theirs would be the task of establishing this church as authorized and empowered by God.  Theirs would be the task of explaining what it all meant, this new covenant, and of ensuring that said explanation was set down in such fashion as would preserve the Truth through the ages for those who would come after.  Theirs would be the task of countering the false doctrines of those who came to disrupt the work, doing so in such fashion as would serve to be the model for our own defense of the true doctrines of the Church.  As such, they needed strong evidence of their validity.

It may be that in various settings today the man of God still needs such strong evidence of their validity as the Gospel is brought into new territory.  It may well be that here in the West we have need of such stunning display once again, in order that the man of God may be heard.  But I rather think that such displays in this setting would do more to discredit the message than to validate it in the minds of the unbelieving crowd.  Go elsewhere, to Africa, say, and it might be wholly appropriate and necessary for the man of God to have signs and wonders following.  At the least, they would likely find greater receptivity.  But then, they would also be more likely to be discounted as just one more among a field of witch doctors and spiritists, and if this is the case, what is the value?  It shall only find value if it is demonstrably superior, as was the case when Moses faced the magicians of Pharaoh’s court.  They might be able to imitate, to produce wonders of their own.  But the true man of God, acting truly upon God’s authorization, will still be superior.  It may come in the form of signs.  It may come in the form of true words.  But where God has authorized, He will empower, and He will empower to good effect.

Let it be understood, then, that the man of God is ever to be speaking, acting, thinking as God would have him to do.  We have the Holy Spirit indwelling, to counsel, admonish, and encourage – and isn’t that the true prophetic office?  We also have the implanted seed of faith, enabling us to heed said counsel, admonition, and encouragement.  Yet, we remain volitional.  And we remain men in whom sanctification is still an ongoing process, as yet unfinished.  So, our volition must be managed, trained, corrected.  Our actions and words may only occasionally represent God’s true intent, and we shall in some fashion be responsible for our choices, whether to act or refrain.  It’s a stunning matter to consider that our every idle thought will be held up for assessment, come that day.  It would be entirely debilitating were it not for the clear recognition of God’s mercy and lovingkindess, expressed in the volitional giving of Himself in atonement for our sins. 

I don’t know how that day will play out for those who believe.  I have a mixed perspective, I suppose.  It does seem to be the case that we shall, along with every other human being, be brought before the throne to answer for ourselves.  And yet, we have that promise that on that day, it shall be evident what we have been, children of God (1Jn 3:2).  We shall have, after all, Christ Himself as our Advocate, and a large part of me suspects that as He is our Lawyer as well as our Judge, His first and fundamental instruction to us will be to remain silent and let Him defend.  Another part of me, reading such passages as are found in Colossians and Philemon, suspects that there will be no charge found against which we need defending.  For by His blood, all such record of our sins has been blotted from the page.  We will perhaps have awareness of our every sin in that moment, but we shall not, I suspect, be hearing about it.  And then comes that promise that every tear shall be wiped away, and no place found for sorrow as we enter into the inheritance that has been made ours by the loving choice of our Father, Who art in heaven.

Evidence (06/29/26-06/30/26)

The miracle is not the point.  It is fascinating.  It stirs the imagination as few other things can do.  But it was never intended to be the theme or mission of our faith that miracles should be our normative experience.  On a purely logical level, if miracles were our normative experience they would cease to be matters of awe and astonishment.  They would just be the natural order.  Take that perspective, and one could quite readily arrive at the position that the natural order is itself utterly miraculous.  That life exists at all is stunning.  That it exists in a form that has intelligence and reason, that pursues invention and art, is all but unbelievable.  Except that it is our daily experience.  That it can produce beauty in spite of the corrupting influence of sin ought to leave us dumbfounded.  But more than anything, the miracle of existence, as well as the existence of miracles, ought to have us seeking God through whom all these wonders have come to pass.  And that is the true design.

Look.  Jesus performed many miracles during His ministry.  But He never once made His ministry about miracles.  He did not send forth His disciples to announce a healing service.  He didn’t send out the Apostles to put on a show.  We see nothing of gold dust being drawn out of thin air or any other such thing.  Indeed, on many occasions, it seems the miracle performs itself, and the individual through whom it has transpired is as surprised by events as those watching.  Think, for example, of that woman with the issue of blood.  At least as the narratives depict things, Jesus did not intentionally seek this woman out in order to heal her.  Indeed, He seems utterly unaware of her until He feels the healing power flow through Him, or, as Scripture describes it, virtue went out of Him.  That, obviously, is not to say He was suddenly without virtue.  That is not how virtue works.  But when God moves, you know it.  Of course, He is God, and therefore all knowing, so He must have known this woman would be there and that she would be healed.  Yet, in His humanity, it was not a planned event.

Looking more at His occasions of mass ministry, these were not, so far as we can discern from the record, intended as healing services or miracle services.  His intent was to preach and to teach.  His purpose was to declare the favorable year of the Lord.  We can shorten that.  His purpose was to declare.  So, then, what was the purpose of miracle?  We’ve already identified one of the primary purposes, and that is to validate the authorization of the one through whom those miracles are performed.  Jesus had come with a rather startling message.  God was back, if you will.  He had been silent now for so many years, but now it was time.  He had a word for His people, and that word was, “Prepare ye the way.”  Indeed, that word was, “I have prepared ye the Way.”  Here was God With Us.  Here was Immanuel, of whom Isaiah had written.  Here was the kingdom of God breaking through into the realm of man.  Here was hope made real for the hopeless.  And here, too, was the hollowness of what religion had become made evident.

A large part of Jesus’ message was the declaration that the whole system of religion had been but a type, a shadow.  It had never been intended to be an end in itself, was never designed to be sufficient to answer the full need of dealing with sin.  It had always pointed towards something far greater, had done so from those first moments after Adam our forebear sinned and God found it needful to remove him from Eden.  God had made a promise to mankind in Adam, and He was keeping that promise.  Everything that had transpired in the intervening years had been geared toward fulfilling that promise.  The feasts were not about remaining mindful of the harvest schedule, nor were they ends in themselves.  They were not the purpose of their observance.  Each one of those feasts was pointing toward the fulfillment which would be found in Christ alone.  The Law, for all that it was right and holy and good, was not intended to tie us up in knots of guilt as we sought and failed to comply.  Neither was it intended to be reduced to a handy checklist by which we could declare ourselves righteous.  It had always been beyond us to bear, even as the terms of that covenant God made with Abraham were beyond him to bear.  And well did he know it.  Likewise Noah, assigned a task utterly impossible for man to fulfill.  Oh, he may well have been able to fashion a massive boat, though even that, a work of some hundred years, should stun.  He did not live on the shoreline, so far as we know, but well inland.  On what basis did he have the understanding to fashion such a craft, let alone the skill, the strength, the material?  But let that be set aside, and how as he to gather together all these animals, and convince them to board his craft?  It was beyond him to fulfill his end of the covenant.  But God…

The Law is the same.  It is impossible to fulfill our end of the contract.  Its terms are beyond us.  And as we saw with the rich young ruler, any supposition that we had met its terms revealed not a rich piety on our part, but a sad blindness to our true condition.  Paul writes of it that except the Law had revealed the matter, he would not have known sin.  Now, it is quite obvious that he would have known how to sin.  Man was sinning long before the Law came to spell out just how often he had done so.  But, as I was reading from Francis Schaeffer a night or two back, he would not have recognized the odious depths of his covetous nature, had not God stuck in the probe of, “Thou shalt not covet.”

Okay.  A rather circuitous route, isn’t it?  But I am arriving at my point, I think.  Miracles are in this same category.  They are not the ends in themselves.  They are not the point.  They are pointers.  They signify, but like the signs along the highway, if we take the signs to be the whole point of driving, we won’t get very far.  As we see too often, a stop sign has little value if one does not heed what it signifies.  An exit sign is of little use if you either don’t understand where the towns are to which it says this exit will take you, or disregard its direction and just continue straight when it tells you your intended destination is off to the right.  Miracles, if they become our focus, have failed.  No.  That’s not quite right.  The miracles haven’t failed, we have.  Then, too, as we were reminded yesterday, and as I have often reminded in these ramblings of mine, the man of God is not the only one capable of performing what appears to be miraculous.  The devil’s agents, whom John describes as antichrist, come with signs and wonders of their own, seeking to deceive, were it possible, even the elect.  And they may well deceive even the elect – for a season.  But we have this assurance, don’t we?  Jesus says that His sheep know His voice, and will not listen to another.  No.  But we may often be distracted by bells and whistles.  If Satan’s minions disguise themselves as angels of light, if false teachers are as able to certify their teaching with signs and wonders as are the Apostles, one has to ask, how are we to know Truth?  It won’t be through signs and wonders.  It won’t be through plausible arguments.  It will be through their consistent validation by the written word of Scripture, God’s message preserved to us through the hands of His authorized agents, and through the agency of His Providential power to preserve and protect.

So, what, then, is the point of this miracle, and why does Luke see fit to record it for us?  Well, Peter’s message, from the very outset, was shockingly confrontational.  “This Jesus, whom you killed…”  This was not seeker-friendly religion, certainly.  This was the doctor delivering an accurate prognosis, whether you wished to hear it or not.  Doctors are not given to flattering words or false hope.  Neither are those who proclaim the true Gospel.  Doctors aren’t in a popularity contest, hoping to develop a following amongst their patients.  Neither were the Apostles.  This was to a purpose – God’s purpose.  Now, given the stunning nature of their doctrinal claims – I mean, who was going to buy that this guy they had seen put to death by the colluding efforts of their own religious leaders and their hated oppressors, was in fact God Incarnate and able to save anybody?  He hadn’t even saved Himself, had He?  Surely God would not permit Himself to be thus humiliated.  It had to be nonsense, right?  Never mind that they had found it needful to suppress a great deal of personal experience to maintain this view.  They had seen the miracles He performed.  They had heard the words of His message, observed the example of His manner.  They had hailed Him as the coming King, if not quite realizing the King He was.  And then, they had demanded His execution, if only because He had disappointed their expectations.

I do seem to be finding it a challenge to stay on point this morning.  There is just so much to be said.  But let us come to this specific miracle and him upon whom that miracle alit.  He’s a nobody.  We don’t even learn his name.  We don’t learn anything about him beyond the fact that he had been lame from birth.  I have described him as something of a fixture.  He was so regular in his setting up by the gate leading into the Court of the Women that he might as well have been part of the landscape.  For many going by, he was probably nigh on invisible.  I mean, yes, they would see him there.  Yes, they would avoid stepping on him in the jostling of the crowds.  But he barely registered on the conscience.  Just another homeless guy camped out in the woods by the street, or on the sidewalk, if you want to put it in more recognizable terms for our current state of affairs.  But if we notice such a one at all, it is likely we do so as we would a feral dog, or a skunk.  He would be seen as a hazard to be avoided, not as a potential recipient of divine intervention.  In our limited perspective, we would see no hope for such a one.  We might take pity; might toss a coin, or offer a meal or some such, but we really don’t expect to see any change.

And honestly, this poor man likely didn’t expect to see any change either.  This was his life, and it would be until he died.  Yet, for whatever reason, he hung on to life.  Isn’t that the way of it, though?  However miserable life may be, something in us insists that we hang on, keep going, make the best of it we can.  And we recognize that the one who takes his own life, however awful his experience may have been, has done something that ought not to be done.  We learn of these countries which have been offering assisted suicide, or even, as we discover, encouraged suicide, and we see it for the darkness it is.  That medical practice, which for so long held to the prime directive, “First, do no harm,” should now have devolved to the point of encouraging death!  How can it be?  How can we possibly think it right?  Truly, the darkness thickens for those who dwell in darkness.  But the Light of Christ is yet able to pierce the darkness, and where He wills it will.

So, this man, I want to say this young man, but we don’t really know how long he had been alive, hears Peter say, “Look at us!”  And I have to think that this was a rather unusual response to his pleas for support.   But he’s conditioned by experience.  If there’s anything to expect, it will be some small token contribution.  I mean, as he looked at them, it would rapidly be evident to him that they were no men of substance.  As I suggested in the first portion of this study, the shift in the nature of his begging that we find hinted at in Luke’s word choice would seem to indicate that he saw these were just ordinary men, men not that different from himself, other than their ambulatory powers.  Peter’s response, we must feel, is compassionate rather than dismissive.  He’s not offering excuses.  Sorry, mate, I don’t carry cash.  I think some of us likely find it a bit of relief not to be carrying cash.  It gives us a ready reason to dismiss those at the door when we go shopping.  Sorry?  Nothing to give.  But that’s not where Peter is going, and as I discussed earlier, where he’s going is not something undertaken on a whim, but under the firm influence of the Holy Spirit.

Again, these two were as regular in attendance at the temple as this man was at the gate.  They had passed him perhaps a hundred times before.  But something was different today.  This was an appointment, a divine appointment, and with the two together, it was confirmed.  We are not given to know how they confirmed it one with the other, but that they acted as one is made plain.  Both fixed their eyes on him.  This was unified action, even if Peter was the primary actor.  And his actions are so audacious, he had to have known God’s clear prompting before undertaking such a move.

Now, to the man at the gate.  Note, that Peter does not instruct him to stand up.  He instructs him to walk.  This may well be quite significant.  The NET translators certainly think so.  They observe, in footnote, that this healing was highly symbolic.  We know, after all, how often Scripture speaks of our manner of living as a walk.  Christianity was first described as the Way, as in, “walk ye in it.”  The walk is our characteristic manner of conducting ourselves.  It is the defining pattern of our life.  We used to walk in sin.  Sin defined us.  But no more.  Now we walk in righteousness, as we are supplied strength and wisdom from God Himself.  We do not do so in perfection, for perfection is not in us.  But the pattern, even though we deviate more often than we would prefer to have it, is prevalent, evident.  So, then, restoring this man’s capacity to walk speaks rather directly to renewal.  It is, if you will, a very physical parable of rebirth.  Here is a fresh start in life!  Here is a complete and abrupt change in the course of your life.  We speak of God being a God of second chances.  Well, here’s your chance.  That which kept you from pursuing life in the prime purpose of loving God and enjoying Him forever has been dealt with, and you are now made able.  It will not do to simply stand up, find your legs now operational, and then simply drop back down again and resume the pattern of your old life.  This is a fresh start.  What Peter and John gave this man, what God gave this man, was of so much greater worth than any gift of silver and gold could have been.

We have that saying, often played with:  “Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day.  Teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime.”  That rather translates to our present scene, doesn’t it?  Give this man some coin, and however much you gave, it would eventually run out, and he’d be left none the better for it.  Just more days of the same.  But address the underlying issue?  Give him the capacity to transport himself from place to place, to take himself to some labor or other?  Now are all things made possible to him!  But, except he walk on this new path of life, it will remain no more than a possibility.  To make the possible the real, he must act.  He must set one foot before the other and then, proceed to assign purpose to his footsteps, supply direction to function.  Think of some of these robot competitions you may find on video.  That one could construct a robot capable of mobility and responsive action is pretty amazing, honestly.  But if the mobility lacks direction, if the responsive actions don’t fit the circumstances, and all its movements are but flailing about, amazement rapidly turns to amusement for the audience, and translates to embarrassment for the creator of that robot.

No, this is a fresh start, a removal of the impediments of a lifetime.  And clearly this man recognized the reality of that change.  Luke observes the energy of realization.  Peter grabs his hand and lifts him off the mat.  But if you’ve ever given a hand to one who is seated, you know full well you’re not going to haul them bodily to their feet except they contribute their own muscles to the task.  You may also recognize the action as something familiar to you from trying to get up from the couch or the easy chair.  Our couch, I find, is constructed in such fashion that, particularly from the middle seat, it takes a bit of concerted effort to gain sufficient momentum so as to arise.  And when you do, there’s a bit of a leap to it, isn’t there?  We jump to our feet.  There’s an energy involved.  It may be but a moment, but it’s there, and there’s that bit of a bounce to our first rising.  I think that is more or less what Luke is describing for us in the first moment.  “With a leap, he stood upright.”  Well, yes.  He’s not getting up from a couch, but from a mat on the ground, or so we can reasonably assume.  Arrive in a coach chair of some sort, and you’re hardly going to elicit alms, are you?  It would mark you as a man of means.  So, it’s a big move.  And recall that this man has had no practice in standing, in using those leg muscles.  They weren’t usable.  Now, suddenly they are.  Think of a baby’s first steps.  They are still discovering how these things work.  It may be awkward.  It may be overly pronounced in those first efforts.  So, he launches, as it were.  But he lands on his feet.  And they work!  Can you imagine?

Have you seen videos of these young children who have been deprived of one sense or another from birth?  Perhaps it was poor vision, and they’ve never really been able to see their parents or the world around them as more than some vague smear.  Now they are given glasses, their vision corrected, and the look of wonder on their faces as they see for the first time is something to bring tears of joy to the sternest face.  Or, perhaps they have been all but deaf from birth, and finally receive their first hearing aid, and suddenly, all the wondrous sounds of life around them become audible for the very first time.  The joy of it all but overwhelms them, and it shows.  And as such, that joy overwhelms us as well.  And now consider that this man has been alive rather longer than those children we see in the videos.  He’s had years now to grow bitterly resigned.  And now, of a sudden, life has opened up before him with hope.  Oh how fully he feels the wonder of this moment!  And he knows who to thank, too.  Look at that response.  He doesn’t begin fawning over Peter.  Neither does he simply run off to go enjoy life.  No!  He is finally able to enter the temple, and he does so, walking, jumping about in wonder at the full scope of this change.

Think about it!  A minute ago, his legs were withered, useless appendages, a constant source of sorrow and embarrassment.  Now, in a moment, they are not only able to lift him off the ground, not only able to bear his weight, which would be wonder enough.  They are fully functional!  And, rather more like a foal, he has quickly mastered the basics, and even some of the more advanced uses of these never before exercised features of his body.  Oh yes, he’s excited.  He wants to explore the capabilities.  But he’s also praising God.  He’s not praising Peter.  He’s not looking at them as some sort of great power such as we will find the Samaritans positing in regard to Simon the Magi later.  He’s assigning cause and honor where it’s due.  Whoever the instrument, God did this, and God shall have the honor, the recognition for it.

And there it is:  the function of the sign.  Here is what it points to.  God is actively involved.  God is providentially involved.  God is directing the events of this day and every day.  He has heard the prayers of this man, though we do not hear of them.  And He has been faithful to answer in a fashion above and beyond anything he could possibly have expected.  But the sign is not for him alone.

The sign is also for those who had seen him so often that he was to them little more than part of the landscape, a nameless fixture seen each day and dismissed from thought.  Oh, there would be those whose piety sought recognition as they made display of tossing him a coin, but as to compassion, there was nothing.  Given what we see of perspectives in regard to such maladies, it would not surprise if many or even most of those passing by held rather negative opinions of the man.  After all, why was he lame?  Wasn’t such a malady evidence of sin?  You may recall the disciples asking Jesus a similar question in regard to a blind man.  “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents?” (Jn 9:2).  They were expressing the common understanding such as it was.  You can somewhat understand it.  There had to be a reason for one to suffer such a malady.  After all, God is good.  He wouldn’t just let such a thing happen for no reason.  And isn’t that us?  We see suffering and we must have explanation of it.  If we don’t find an answer ready to hand, we’ll concoct one, and convince ourselves it must be the case.  We cannot leave such a thing down to chance.  And to a degree, we are quite right.  God, being author and controller of all things, must indeed have had a hand in this situation, though of necessity without that involvement being in any way sinful or evil on His part.  Yet, He is not ashamed to declare that He causes calamity as well as blessing (Isa 45:7).  We may, however, take comfort in knowing that it is to good purpose, and for the good of those who love Him (Ro 8:28).  So, they were right to see purpose, but wrong to see sin as the only possible cause. 

They had learned the lesson.  Others coming to temple likely had not done so.  They would still assume that sin lay at the base of this man’s obvious impairment.  Those legs, having never been used, would be quite visibly useless, I expect.  Indeed, if I am not mistaken, there is significance to his being in the Court of the Gentiles, and not brought farther, into the Court of the Women.  Deformity of any sort was seen as a mark of unacceptability.  I recall reading in regard to the high priestly office, that any such disfigurement or handicap would preclude one from holding such office.  I forget which one, but I believe it was one of the Maccabees who had cut the ear off his brother to prevent him vying for that position.  Leave aside the impropriety of vying for the office, rather than being anointed for it by God.  But for our present case, I am reasonably certain that this man could not proceed any farther into the temple grounds than this gate.

This gets us back to the wonder signified by his healing.  Not only was he now able to walk, now physically capable of more useful employments, he was also, for the first time in his life, able to walk through that gate into the temple proper.  He could go into the Court of the Women, or beyond to the inner court so as to offer sacrifices.  So, come back to this scene.  The man is healed, and he is excited.  The Apostles, having done as they were instructed by the Spirit, continue on their way, entering into the temple grounds for prayer.  This likely meant proceeding right on into the inner court.  And lo!  This man joins them, walking, leaping on his feet in his excitement, and praising God.  Now, such a thing in the Court of the Women might have been somewhat less of a spectacle, but if they had gone into the inner court, the place of reverent prayer, one suspects silence and solemnity were expected.  He was going to be noticed.  Had this occurred prior to healing, to be noticed would likely have been to be stoned.  But no.  He is quite evidently hale and whole.  And this itself would be a sign to those who had written him off as a sinner beyond redemption, to be pitied, perhaps, but not to be accepted.

Yet, all of this, as significant as it was, as wonderful as it was, remains ancillary to the purpose of miracle.  Amazing the locals wasn’t the point.  Relieving physical malady wasn’t the point.  The point was, and ever is, that God is present and active, and these two, Peter and John, were authorized agents of His kingdom.  When the spoke, which Peter would do almost immediately, as the crowds gathered in amazement that this man, whom they knew as a feature of the outer court, who was clearly not faking his injuries, was here among them, walking on his own, jumping even, and clearly excited as he praised God for this sudden change.  Oh!  That sudden change!  What had happened?  If, as they assumed, his malady had been due to his sin, then what could his healing mean except that his sin had been forgiven?  And what might that mean for them?  Now, I don’t know how far down that avenue their thinking ranged.  It may not have gone very far.  We tend to stop pretty quick when we witness something like this, even if it’s the rather quieter affair of a sinner praying what we have termed the sinner’s prayer.  We rejoice for him, at least a little.  We perhaps give thanks to God for this evidence that our church isn’t a dead thing.  We might even hark back to our own coming to faith as a sweet memory.  But as to personal significance?  Not so much.  We’re saved after all.  We’re past this point, right?

Be careful!  That is very much how the Jews thought of themselves in that day.  We are the chosen people!  We have the temple!  God is practically beholden to us, to protect and preserve.  After all, look at all that we do each day in the name of our religious devotion.  Why, we even gave that guy a donation on the way in, we’re so good.  It takes a work of the Holy Spirit to move us beyond self-congratulation to self-recognition.  Yes, we still have sins of which to repent, and to try as best we may to repent earnestly, not just in words and empty gestures.  For such as come to this realization, whether for the first time, or by way of a reminder, how wonderful a sign this truly was.  But for those who would gather, it was not only a sign that Peter should be heard and heeded.  It was a sign that this Jesus whom he served was in fact God, and worthy to be praised.  And that, at base, gets us to the most fundamental significance of any miracle.  It’s not the thing done, nor is it the person to whom it’s done, nor is it the person by whom it’s done.  It’s the finger pointing directly to God, in whose power alone such things transpire.

Let us therefore take care to test our own religiosity, our own propensity to pat one another on the back for how well we have performed our duties.  It’s all well and good to encourage the pastor when he preaches well, to note appreciation for the worship team when the songs have drawn us into a place of praising God.  There’s nothing inherently wrong with recognizing talent or gifting.  Indeed, we ought to appreciate one another’s contributions.  But if that’s where we stop, we’ve stopped short.  If we serve in hopes of accolades, we do not serve.  If we measure our church’s effectiveness by eloquence, erudition, and artistry, then we have made our church a temple to the humanities, and that is not what it should be.  The Church is to be a place where those who are God’s temple may gather together for mutual edification and consolation, a house of prayer, not of commerce.  It is not a path to fame and fortune, but rather a place of humble worship unto the God Who Is.  Let us be ever mindful of this, in whatever capacity we may serve or receive.  Whoever may be involved, whatever their gifts or foibles, it’s God who acts, God who speaks, God who does any good in any one of us.  And may He have every bit of the praise for it.

Witness and Wonder (07/01/26)

The miracle of this man’s healing was not a matter of wowing the crowd, nor was it an advertisement to, “Come and see the show.”  It was not a promise that should anybody else in that temple need healing, they could come to Peter and the others and be healed.  Perhaps they could have, but this is no promise of assured result.  It was an announcement.  God is with us.  God is with you, should you be willing to receive Him.

One might have thought a crowd such as these three thousand new believers, all coming together daily to listen as Peter or one of the others taught might have been a notable thing already, though, if I’m not mistaken that was generally happening in Solomon’s Portico, which would be on the edges of the Court of the Gentiles.  In that setting, the noise would be familiar.  Perhaps seeing groups like the Essenes clustered together in some spot would not be all that unusual, and the Apostles with their group might seem just one more sect amongst many.  But now, we are at the gate leading into the Court of the Women, a different matter, a smaller space.  And it is at the hour of prayer.  One presumes the men would be proceeding to the inner court, where prayerful quietness was the norm.  But we haven’t gone that far yet.  We’re in this middle ground, and here is our man, leaping about, shouting out praises to God.

If I remember correctly, Jesus had been known to teach in this court on occasion, so perhaps large groups gathering to hear some preacher would not be that unusual even in this setting.  I recall an occasion, many years ago, when I had gone to my the church where my father was serving, since I was home at the time.  As would happen in a church of that denomination and neighborhood, the choir came walking up the aisle, all in their matching robes, to be seated in the choir section at the side of the pulpit.  Having grown up with such things, this was nothing out of the ordinary, just part of the landscape of church.  But I had my friend, a Jewish lass, who had come with me, and for her, this was something entirely new.  We had a bit of a laugh later, because in her mind, they looked rather like the Romans come, with knives under their togas, to deal with Caesar.  I don’t know exactly what brings that memory to mind, but my point is simply this.  We get used to those things that are constants in our experience.  We go to temple, and there will be crowds.  There will be beggars begging, and people stopping to drop them a coin or two. There will be folks going over to deposit their offerings, some loudly, some quietly.  There will be groups gathering together, people shouting their message so as to be heard over the noise.  None of this raises an eyebrow anymore, because it’s always like this.  It’s just the rhythm of life.

So, God has arranged something extraordinary, out of the usual flow of things, and why?  Because something important is occurring, something that should result in a permanent shift in that rhythm.  Being a musician, musical examples come to mind.  There’s Miles Davis who, as I understand it, would have little motifs or licks to signal that a key change was coming.  Or one could go to Genesis, with their epic “Supper’s Ready,” and there some distance into the song, we hear the announcement, “Chord change!”  Things are going in a new direction.  Whatever the setting, something signals a change is coming, and one had best take note of that change and adjust accordingly.  That is the thing marked out by this miracle.  Something has shifted.  The temporary relief offered by the typical activity of sacrifice is being superseded.  The type has been replaced by antitype.  Jesus, the Lamb of God, has been offered, and true forgiveness of sins, forgiveness that persists into eternity, is now accomplished.  The real result of this real sacrifice is now made available to you, should you repent and receive it.  This man, whose evident malady marked him out as a sinner in your eyes, is now walking about, nay, leaping about for the sheer joy of it, before your eyes.  And he has clearly perceived the significance!  He’s praising God.  He’s entering into the courts of prayer and thanksgiving.  What about you, then?  Have you sinned?  Have you come to seek some ameliorating result from your offerings?  Are you still suffering from conscious guilt, even though those offerings have already been made?  There’s hope!  There’s hope for you.  That’s the significance.

Add to it.  These men know.  They have the word of God, and are here on His authority.  They are not just some new sect.  They are not just a bunch of folks excited by yet another Johnny-come-lately preacher.  This is real.  “These are my beloved children.  Listen to them.”  No voice came this time, but the message was clear all the same.

Now, then, we have considered much about the nature of this event.  There remains a most critical matter to address.  Why is it written here?  If the sole purpose of this is to present us with a bit of history, then it’s interesting enough, but it doesn’t really rise to the level of Scripture.  All Scripture, Paul advises, is inspired by God and profitable for teaching, reproof, correction, and training in righteousness (2Ti 3:16).  And while he may have had the Old Testament in view as he wrote that, Peter affirms Paul’s writings as being likewise Scripture.  These things were written for our benefit, who live in the last days.  If they are for our benefit, then there is something in this passage which ought to inform our own life and practice.  But it’s not that we ought to be going about insisting that the lame stand up, or grabbing the tongues of the mute and insisting they speak, or anything of that nature.  No.  But what we ought to learn from this that the celebration of what the Lord has done for us is not a matter for private appreciation, nor is it to be restricted for those places where we are gathered together with our fellow believers, away from the gaze of others.

Observe the central event here.  “All the people saw him walking and praising God.”  Everybody saw what God was doing in his life, and they saw the change in him.  It was not just the physical change.  Think of those ten lepers healed by Jesus.  All but one, having been healed, just got on with life, went back to whatever it was they had known before.  Only the one recognized that God had done something wonderful and wonderfully undeserved.  Presumably, those who knew the other nine recognized the change in them.  Leprosy is, after all, a rather evident malady, and its elimination would show just as clearly.  But so far as we know, nothing was said as to how this came about, no credit was given either to Jesus or to God.  Here, however, this man has responded as one should, praising God for this incredible blessing, and ready to follow.  Peter had told him to rise up and walk.  He had said nothing about coming in and offering up prayers, or sticking around to hear a message.  The man could have gone his way, happy and anonymous, and nobody would have paid him much mind.  But he has opted for living his faith, newly blossomed though it may be, out loud and in public.

That, I think, is our primary lesson here.  Christianity is to be lived out loud and in public.  We may have the occasional testimony service at church, and they may stir a bit of interest or even excitement amongst us as we learn just where our brother or sister has come from in the course of life.  But testimony to one another has never been the point, has it?  I mean, there’s value to it as it may stir our faith a bit, encourage us at a low point, or what have you.  But the purpose of testimony is to declare Christ to those who haven’t known.  The purpose of testimony is to insist that they, “Look and see what the Lord has done!”  We can have a tendency to make our testimony more a matter of, “Look at us!”  And that’s simply inappropriate.  Yes, we are involved, and must include such personal matters as explain the wonder of God’s action.  But it ought ever and always to point to Christ.  The miracle did.  And understand, whatever else may have happened, your rebirth into this new life of the Spirit is a miracle.  It is every bit as much a miracle that one such as I have come out of a determined unbelief into a place of settled, trusting faith in God.  It is beyond me to this day how I came to say I would go on that retreat, and certainly there were myriad divine arrangements happening during the course of that retreat.  The man who came back was not the man who went.  And life thereafter should be a case of, “Look what the Lord did!”

This doesn’t need to be a matter of in your face buttonholing testimony.  It need not have us cornering our poor victim to harangue them with tales of our transformation.  There’s a time and a place for that, but to my mind, the time and the place involve established relationship.  They involve having established a basis to be speaking into this person’s life.  Perhaps I am merely making excuses for my own inactivity in this regard, but I don’t think I’m far off from the truth here.  What I am driving at is this:  The change ought to be evident.  This man was walking, rejoicing loudly not to draw attention to himself, but because he couldn’t help but rejoice loudly.  God had done something wondrous on his behalf.  And everybody there could see it.

When we come to faith, a great change has transpired in our lives.  It may not involve limbs refashioned.  It may not involve some chronic disease suddenly gone.  It does not require us to deny or disregard the language and understanding of medical science.  And it certainly shouldn’t have us claiming our condition is other than it really is.  If you are visibly ill and insisting that God has healed you, how does that serve to convince anybody to pursue this God of yours?  What it convinces them of is that you are a loon.  And who wishes to formulate their beliefs or decisions on the basis of a loon’s advice?  No.  But there ought to be that about us which announces of its own accord that something is different.  For those who knew us when, there ought to be a clear distinction between what they knew and what they see in us now.  For those who have not known us, there ought to be just as clear a recognition that there’s something different about us.  There ought to be a peace amidst the strife that is evident in us, for our trust is not in events, but in the Lord.  There ought to be a manifest joy.  That is not to say that we ought to be laughing in the face of danger or pain.  But if our eyes are on Christ, and our assurance is soundly resting on His promises, then such dangers or pains as we may face, seeing as they have come our way within His providence, can be faced as producing something good in us or for us.

When we come to faith, a great change has transpired in our lives.  It may not involve limbs refashioned.  It may not involve some chronic disease suddenly gone.  It does not require us to deny or disregard the language and understanding of medical science.  And it certainly shouldn’t have us claiming our condition is other than it really is.  If you are visibly ill and insisting that God has healed you, how does that serve to convince anybody to pursue this God of yours?  What it convinces them of is that you are a loon.  And who wishes to formulate their beliefs or decisions on the basis of a loon’s advice?  No.  But there ought to be that about us which announces of its own accord that something is different.  For those who knew us when, there ought to be a clear distinction between what they knew and what they see in us now.  For those who have not known us, there ought to be just as clear a recognition that there’s something different about us.  There ought to be a peace amidst the strife that is evident in us, for our trust is not in events, but in the Lord.  There ought to be a manifest joy.  That is not to say that we ought to be laughing in the face of danger or pain.  But if our eyes are on Christ, and our assurance is soundly resting on His promises, then such dangers or pains as we may face, seeing as they have come our way within His providence, can be faced as producing something good in us or for us.

Everybody saw this man.  Everybody saw Peter and John, and shortly, it would be the case that everybody heard what they had to say.  They had just earned a hearing.  Well, God had earned them a hearing.  And they would not waste it.  Be ready in season and out of season to preach the word, to reprove and rebuke, to exhort with patient instruction (2Ti 4:2).  Don’t jump on the poor unsuspecting stranger, but when they ask, be ready to explain the hope that is in you (1Pe 3:15).  That’s the instruction.  That’s the lesson of this scene.  Live your faith, and be ready when others notice.

Be ready, as well, should your example and your message not receive the response you hoped for.  You are not in charge of the response.  You are in charge of you, albeit in such fashion as leaves you wholly submitted to Him.  Act in His name.  Live in His name.  As we have seen, this is not a matter of making claim to His authorization when it has not in fact been given.  It’s not just a formulaic addition to our prayers.  It’s purposefully, humbly walking with our Lord and seeking to say and do such things as He directs us to say and do, such things as we know are pleasing to Him. How do we know?  Because we have been training under His word.  We have been meditating on His word.  We have been praying and listening, and growing in maturity as the Holy Spirit, God Himself, works within us to will and to work for His good pleasure (Php 2:13).  But the results are for Him to decide.

For those observing this event, there was a clear response.  “They were filled with wonder and amazement.”  They surely could not deny that something remarkable had just transpired.  This was not the ordinary stuff of afternoon prayer at the temple.  This was all but unheard of, and seemingly all the more so on temple premises.  They knew.  God had moved.  God had done something wonderful.  And they did not lose the sense of wonder.  I would hope that Peter and John had not lost their sense of wonder, either.  They may have been somewhat more used to the miraculous happening, but that had been when Jesus was here.  And yes, the Holy Spirit had come upon them in power, and taken up residence, so they would have that inner conversation running, informing their actions, and perhaps tempering their reactions.  But that does not preclude a sense of wonder.  Wow!  What God just did, and He chose to use me!  Amazing.  For Peter, especially, this must surely have been a marvel itself.  Me!  Who had denied association with Him as He stood trial before the Sanhedrin!  And He has chosen to use me for such a thing as this!  Amazing.

What is not entirely evident for us, and rarely is, is whether the response of the people was evidence of real faith.  Nor, in general, is it our task to determine the case.  The NET adds a footnote here at verse 10 to say, “In terms of response to what God is doing, amazement does not equal faith.”  We do well to take that to heart in our own reactions.  The sermon may stir us as we hear it, the sounds of worship may elicit participation and joy from us.  But these do not necessarily provide evidence of real faith.  The emotional response is not the evidence.  I’ve known too many who came forward in emotional response to the message, said the sinner’s prayer, and maybe even came back a few times, but then drifted right back to former ways.  And I know in myself just how readily I can revert to form, as it were.  The life of faith, the reality of faith, is not a matter of keeping the emotions stirred to fever pitch.  It’s quieter.  And it’s more purposeful.  It’s deliberate.  It requires attention and maintenance.  What it does not require is losing our sense of wonder.  God is amazing, and He is forever acting in amazing fashion toward us.  It matters not whether he acts through ordinary means or extraordinary.  The bonus that comes in just at the point of need, the accident narrowly avoided, the availability of medical treatment, the birth of a child, the preservation of love in a marriage, any and all of these things are wonders.  And they are all by God’s hand.  Be amazed.  Be thankful.  Be evident with your faith, and may God have all the glory of it.

What these people witnessed was the real deal, and they knew it.  They sensed the significance.  God was doing something in their day!  What people around us witness in us needs to be the real deal, not forced expressions of piety, but lived faith, evident change, open expression of faith.  A willingness and propensity to give God thanks for whatever will go farther than insistent dissertations on your love for God, or listing off the things you do for Him.  “Praise God!”  That’s it.  I remember my employers down in Texas.  Their faith would not fit the mold for most churches, I don’t suppose.  Yet it served.  When difficult times came at work, they prayed.  They didn’t gather the company together to pray, nor wander the halls loudly proclaiming.  They prayed in private quietness.  And when God answered, they let it be known.  “We prayed, He answered.”  That was it.  No demands that we believe.  Nothing.  It was simply conversation between friends, for such we were.  But that testimony carries weight.  It demonstrated faith far more effectively than, let us say, somebody on the streets of Boston accosting strangers with a questionnaire about beliefs.  Our testimony doesn’t need to be brash or bold or lengthy.  It needs to be honest and open, a faith strong enough to be freely expressed.  Let this be our story.