Making things happen
... with integrity
Monday October 25, 2004 Volume VI Number 43
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by Ken Kemp |
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t’s not hard to imagine the confusion. One wonders how this band of followers felt. What they talked about. According to Luke’s account, they were just days away since their final moments with their Master.
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In a dazzling instant, he left them. He disappeared into the clouds. They stood together, mouths agape, stunned. He’d given final instructions before his departure - something about the coming of a spirit that would empower them to carry on his work. The Holy Spirit, he called it.
But now they were huddled together in a little room. About
a hundred of them. They must have been, at the core, fearful. Only weeks
before, they witnessed the open hostility of the crowd. There was murder in
the 
air. What, for one
short day, was praise and adoration - all turned to bitter rage. The
authorities aimed all the powers of public justice against him. Religious
leaders scorned him, seeking his elimination at the highest levels of
government. The supreme religious court called him into the dock. He was
rejected. Guards beat him bloody. They deemed a fraud. He was crucified.
His followers scattered.
But now they all sat in a room, bewildered. The eye-witness accounts were unmistakable. The tomb was empty. He appeared alive. Jesus continued his teaching. They laughed with him again. They dreamed again. They must have confessed their doubts to him – he forgave them.
They studied their scriptures. They looked for hints – affirming what they’d learned as he taught. They looked for clues – what do we do next?
It was Peter who took the lead. He found passages from the Psalms and the Prophets – so clearly identifying the next steps.
And it was Peter who stood and addressed the Pentecost crowds in Jerusalem.
Think about it, Pastor Todd said - Peter. The same Peter who promised he would follow Jesus no matter what – even into the flames.
Todd cued up a scene from The Passion of the Christ. There he was, Peter, in the crowd witnessing Jesus before the Sanhedrin standing in judgment. The people joined in – BLASPHEMY! Jesus’ fate was sealed. Peter knew it. He felt terror he’d never known. As the crowd chanted condemnation, Peter shrank back. And then he said it – No. No. I never knew him. The denial was repeated. Three times.
And as you heard the faint crowing in the distance, Jesus,
through his blood and tears and pain, looked
over at Peter, found him
in the crowd, and their eyes locked into a gaze that only lasted just moments.
But it seared a memory into Peter’s mind that ultimately penetrated his heart.
He would never be the same again.
What was that look? A look of condemnation? Of annoyance? Irritation? I-told-you-so? None of the above. It was a look of compassion. Peter dissolved into a puddle of tears. He knew his own frailty. He had committed his life to this man. And now, that commitment was affirmed in a way that would change his life forever.
Here’s the heart of the matter: does Jesus, who is the Good Shepherd, abandon his own because of their frailties? Is he surprised when we slip and fall? Does he expect perfection?
We know the answer. No, he loves us in spite of our failures and frailties. When asked, we can give the right answer. But do we really get it?
Peter was transformed on the Day of Pentecost. The spirit got hold of him, and never let go. His sermon that day was powerful. It came from his head, but more important, from his heart. The power and the truth of it could not be denied.
Three thousand people heard it, and were transformed just like the preacher.
And once transformed, they changed the world.
Forever.
* * * * * *
It’s Monday morning. You are a leader.
This will a briefer than usual LeaderFOCUS.
For Carolyn and me, life altering events are in the works. This Sunday morning’s worship service(s) marked a turning point in our lives.
To suggest that we have something in common with the Apostle Peter on the day of Pentecost would be a stretch. But the same power that energized his transformational message has also touched us in an irreversible way.
I can’t tell you the whole thing this week. But next week, I’ll fill in some of the gaps.
Just know this: your being there, following my verbal wanderings, walking along the path with me, all make you a fellow sojourner.
We’re on this journey together, you and me.
And it is good.
Way good.
Posted in Valley Center, California
© Copyright Kenneth E. Kemp 2004
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