It’s Holy Week — Passion Week — the last seven days of Jesus’ mortal life — and as I read through the events and conversations that led to Jesus’ death, I’m grappling with how severely Jesus drew the line between what was and was not His purpose.
Jesus predicts His own death, His disciple Peter rebukes Him for doing it, and Jesus says, “Get behind me, Satan!” (Matthew 16:23). Peter’s rebuke, well-intentioned as it may have been, was a gut reaction spewing forth human concerns at divine purpose. That’s like taking the laws of gravity to outer space: the logic of one realm won’t hold up in the other.
Peter doesn’t understand that the rocky road of human “interference” is exactly what God declares will usher in the reign of the Messiah. He doesn’t understand God’s will done God’s way. (Not that any of us have a good grasp on this). Full of trusty, this-world logic, Peter tries to course-correct Jesus’ declared path to Messiahship.
Jesus doesn’t dismiss him with, “Get behind me, human!”
That’s because anything that sought to deter Jesus from His purpose was satanic.
Either Jesus is being too harsh here — or I am being too soft.
Fulfilling His purpose was a matter of life and death — or else His resurrection doesn’t matter.
When I initially read Peter’s rebuke in Matthew 16:22, it sounded to me like one of those bulldog-loyal friends trying to confront and prevent unjust suffering. I wanted to commend what I perceived as loyalty until I read Jesus’ response: Jesus saw right through it, knew the voice behind Peter’s voice: it was the same voice that offered Him food when he was hungry, protection against the threat of bodily harm, and the world’s glory at the price of a bended knee. Jesus already deflected these offers straight from Satan himself (Matthew 4:1-11), and He wasn’t going to accept them now just because they came in a different package.
No, he “set his face” to go to Jerusalem (Luke 9:51 ESV, KJV), fulfilling prophetic words in Isaiah 50 as the Sovereign Lord helped Him set his face like flint and move forward in the knowledge that He would not be disgraced nor put to shame (50:7).
No stumbling block of Peter’s short-sighted loyalty would stand in Jesus’ way. No human passion for immediate justice would trip Jesus up on His path to the cross.
His purpose was too precious.
…What about yours? And mine? Do we value our own God-given purpose this way? Or like Peter, are we setting our minds on humanity’s purposes rather than God’s? The difference here isn’t a matter of preference, and it isn’t an all-roads-lead-home scenario, either. It’s the difference between life and death.
Recently, a combination of sun exposure plus liquid of some sort found its way into my work ID protector, causing ink from my photograph to affix itself onto the clear plastic. It’s currently serving as my reminder to not live in the shadow of my calling, to not shrink back from a costly call to settle for convenience and comfort. Jesus’ sharp rebuke to Peter reminds me that purpose is a matter of life and death, heaven and hell. When I am tempted to “make sense” of my calling by taming it, by saying God really wouldn’t require that much of me, by reaching for a more appealing alternative, I remember Peter’s attempt to reject Jesus’ — and I remember the rebuke he received.
His story doesn’t end there, of course: let us not forget that Peter, forgiven and restored by God, was a disciple and apostle whom Jesus utilized to build His church, against which hell’s gates will never prevail. He died as a martyr for Christ’s cause. He lived God’s will in God’s way after all.
One of the most humble and perhaps most terrifying things we can pray is a line from Jesus, uttered in the Easter story as a large crowd of accusers was assembling to take his life: “nevertheless, not as I will, but as you will” (Matthew 26:39).
This prayer is the difference between life and death, between shadows and substance. Whatever the cost, may it be God’s will done God’s way.
This Easter prayer is the prayer of my life. Let it be yours, too.