Part 2 (1/2)

Jesus' miracles were proof of his divinity. When he healed bodies and fed hungry bellies, when he commanded the waves as casually as a four-star general does the private, when he called life out of Lazarus's dead body and sight out of the blind man's eyes, these miracles were G.o.d's endors.e.m.e.nt. G.o.d gave Jesus his seal of approval.

2. Then G.o.d delivered him to death. ”[He] had already planned and decided that Jesus would be handed over to you. So you took him and had evil men put him to death on a cross” (v. 23 CEV).

G.o.d deemed Christ worthy of G.o.d's most important mission-to serve as a sacrifice for humankind. Not just anyone could do this. How could a sinner die for sinners? Impossible. The Lamb of G.o.d had to be perfect, flawless, and sinless. When the Romans nailed Jesus to the cross, G.o.d was singling him out as the only sinless being ever to walk the face of the earth, the only person qualified to bear ”our sins in His own body” (1 Peter 2:24). The cross, a tool of shame, was actually a badge of honor, a badge bestowed one time, to one man, Jesus of Nazareth. But G.o.d did not leave Jesus in the tomb.

3. ”G.o.d set him free from death and raised him to life. Death could not hold him in its power” (Acts 2:24 CEV).

Deep within the dark sepulchre of Joseph of Arimathea, behind the secured and sealed rock of the Romans, amid the sleeping corpses and silent graves of the Jews, G.o.d did his greatest work. He spoke to the dead body of his incarnate Son. With h.e.l.l's demons and heaven's angels watching, he called on the Rose of Sharon to lift his head, the Lion of Judah to stretch his paws, the Bright and Morning Star to s.h.i.+ne forth his light, the Alpha and Omega to be the beginning of life and the end of the grave. ”G.o.d untied the death ropes and raised him up. Death was no match for him” (v. 24 MSG).

I envision Peter pausing at this point in his sermon. I can hear words echo off the Jerusalem stones. ”Death was no match for him . . . for him . . . for him.” Then for a few seconds, hushed quiet. Peter stops and searches the faces, his dark eyes defying someone to challenge his claim. A priest, a soldier, a cynic-someone, anyone, to question his words. ”You are insane, Simon. Come, let me take you to Joseph of Arimathea's tomb. Let's roll back the stone and unwrap the decaying cadaver of Jesus and put an end to this nonsense once and for all.”

What an opportunity for someone to destroy Christianity in its infancy! But no one defied Peter. No Pharisee objected. No soldier protested. No one spoke, because no one had the body. The word was out that the Word was out.

People began to realize their mistake. The gravity of their crime settled over them like a funeral dirge. G.o.d came into their world, and they killed him. This was the thrust of Peter's sermon: ”You killed G.o.d.” ”G.o.d proved . . . to you . . . All of you know this . . . You took him and had evil men put him to death.” You. You. You. On three occasions Peter pointed a verbal, if not physical, finger at the crowd.

The question of the hour changed. ”Whatever could this mean?” (a question of the head) became ”What shall we do?” (a question of the heart). ”Men and brethren, what shall we do?” (v. 37).

They leaned in to hear Peter's reply. So much was at stake. What if he said, ”It's too late”? Or ”You had your chance”? Or ”You should have listened the first time”?

Peter, surely with outstretched arms and tear-filled eyes, gave this invitation: Turn back to G.o.d! Be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ, so that your sins will be forgiven. Then you will be given the Holy Spirit. This promise is for you and your children. It is for everyone our Lord G.o.d will choose, no matter where they live. (vv. 3839 CEV) Peter would eventually speak about poverty. The church would soon address the issues of widows, disease, and bigotry. But not yet. The first order of the church's first sermon was this: pardon for all our sins. Peter delivered the bread.

Would you allow me to do the same? Before we turn the next page in the story of Acts, would you consider the offer of Jesus? ”I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry again” (John 6:35 NLT).

The grain-to-bread process is a demanding one. The seed must be planted before it can grow. When the grain is ripe, it must be cut down and ground into flour. Before it can become bread, it must pa.s.s through the oven. Bread is the end result of planting, harvesting, and heating.

Jesus endured an identical process. He was born into this world. He was cut down, bruised, and beaten on the thres.h.i.+ng floor of Calvary. He pa.s.sed through the fire of G.o.d's wrath, for our sake. He ”suffered because of others' sins, the Righteous One for the unrighteous ones. He went through it all-was put to death and then made alive-to bring us to G.o.d” (1 Peter 3:18 MSG).

Bread of Life? Jesus lived up to the t.i.tle. But an unopened loaf does a person no good. Have you received the bread? Have you received G.o.d's forgiveness?

We cherish pardon, don't we? I was thinking about pardon a few afternoons ago on a south Texas country road with hills and curves and turns and bends. I know it well. I now know the highway patrolman who oversees it.

And he now knows me. He looked at my driver's license. ”Why is your name familiar to me? Aren't you a minister here in San Antonio?”

”Yes, sir.”

”On your way to a funeral?”

”No.”

”An emergency?”

”No.”

”You were going awfully fast.”

”I know.”

”Tell you what I'm going to do. I'm going to give you a second chance.”

I sighed. ”Thank you. And thanks for giving me a sermon ill.u.s.tration on pardon.”

G.o.d has posted his traffic signs everywhere we look. In the universe, in Scripture, even within our own hearts. Yet we persist in disregarding his directions. But G.o.d does not give us what we deserve. He has drenched his world in grace. It has no end. It knows no limits. It empowers this life and enables us to live the next. G.o.d offers second chances, like a soup kitchen offers meals to everyone who asks.

And that includes you. Make sure you receive the bread.

And once you do, pa.s.s it on. After all, if we don't, who will?

Governments don't feed the soul. The secular relief house can give a bed, a meal, and valuable counsel. But we can give much more. Not just help for this life but hope for the next.

Turn back to G.o.d! Be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ, so that your sins will be forgiven. Then you will be given the Holy Spirit. This promise is for you and your children. It is for everyone our Lord G.o.d will choose, no matter where they live. (Acts 2:3839 CEV) So along with the cups of water, plates of food, and vials of medicine, let there be the message of sins forgiven and death defeated.

Remember the bread.

For G.o.d was in Christ, reconciling the world to himself, no longer counting people's sins against them. And he gave us this wonderful message of reconciliation. So we are Christ's amba.s.sadors; G.o.d is making his appeal through us. We speak for Christ when we plead, ”Come back to G.o.d!” For G.o.d made Christ, who never sinned, to be the offering for our sin, so that we could be made right with G.o.d through Christ.

(2 Cor. 5:1921 NLT).

My blessed Savior and Lord, I praise you for freely giving me the Bread of Life. You replaced my darkness with your light, my fear with your security, and my despair with your hope. Remind me every day, Father, that the Bread of Life I have in Jesus comes to me by your grace and through your love-and that it delights your generous heart when I tell others where they can find and partake. Make me into an eager amba.s.sador of Jesus Christ. Turn my fear into boldness so that heaven's streets may be filled with men and women who love the Savior, in part because they first heard of his grace and mercy from my lips. In Jesus' name I pray, amen.

CHAPTER 5.

Team Up.

Now all who believed were together.

-ACTS 2:44.

In 1976 tremors devastated the highlands of Guatemala. Thousands of people were killed, and tens of thousands were left homeless. A philanthropist offered to sponsor a relief team from our college. This flyer was posted in our dormitory: ”Needed: students willing to use their spring break to build cinder-block homes in Quetzaltenango.” I applied, was accepted, and began attending the orientation sessions.

There were twelve of us in all. Mostly ministry students. All of us, it seemed, loved to discuss theology. We were young enough in our faith to believe we knew all the answers. This made for lively discussions. We bantered about a covey of controversies. I can't remember the list. It likely included the usual suspects of charismatic gifts, end times, wors.h.i.+p styles, and church strategy. By the time we reached Guatemala, we'd covered the controversies and revealed our true colors. I'd discerned the faithful from the infidels, the healthy from the heretics. I knew who was in and who was out.

But all of that was soon forgotten. The destruction from the earthquake dwarfed our differences. Entire villages had been leveled. Children were wandering through rubble. Long lines of wounded people awaited medical attention. Our opinions seemed suddenly petty. The disaster demanded teamwork. The challenge created a team.

The task turned rivals into partners. I remember one fellow in particular. He and I had distinctly different opinions regarding the styles of wors.h.i.+p music. I-the open-minded, relevant thinker-favored contemporary, upbeat music. He-the stodgy, close-minded caveman-preferred hymns and hymnals. Yet when stacking bricks for houses, guess who worked shoulder to shoulder? As we did, we began to sing together. We sang old songs and new, slow and fast. Only later did the irony of it dawn on me. Our common concern gave us a common song.

This was Jesus' plan all along. None of us can do what all of us can do. Remember his commission to the disciples? ”You [all of you collectively] will be my witnesses” (Acts 1:8 NIV). Jesus didn't issue individual a.s.signments. He didn't move one by one down the line and knight each individual.