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Sermon: Two Interrogations

John 18:12–27 Mid-week Lent 2  2-21-24

It’s dark. The disciples have fled. Jesus, with hands tied, is led by the soldiers through the winding streets of Jerusalem to the house of Annas, the father-in-law of Caiaphas the high priest. It was Caiaphas, John reminds us, who accidently prophesied that it was “expedient that one man should die for the people” (v 14; cf 11:50). John and Peter follow at a distance and then enter the outer courtyard of the house.

John puts our attention on two events happening at the same time: the interrogation of Jesus before the high priest and the interrogation of Peter in the courtyard.

Jesus had prophesied Peter’s threefold betrayal before the rooster crows. It’s coming true. The servant girl at the door asks Peter, “You also are not one of this man’s disciples, are you?” He says, “I am not” (v 17). This should ring in our ears as we recall Jesus in the garden, saying, “I am.” The text leaves Peter warming himself by the fire and brings us inside to Jesus.                                                                                                                     Jesus answers Annas’s questions by indicating that he always taught in public. His is no secret teaching. An officer strikes Jesus on the face, the first of many blows that Jesus will suffer. “If what I said is right, why do you strike me?” Jesus asks (v 23), reminding us that all that he will suffer and endure was undeserved.

Then we’re back to the courtyard. Peter is standing around the fire and is asked again, “You also are not one of his disciples, are you?” “I am not” (v 25). Peter is getting irritated, uncomfortable. A relative of Malchus, the man whose ear Peter had cut off and Jesus healed, also asks, “Did I not see you in the garden with him?” (v 26). A third time Peter denies it; he denies Jesus, and a rooster crows.

The other Gospels tell us that Peter was cursing and vehemently denying Jesus, and at the exact moment of his third and most fervent denial, three things happen: the rooster crows, Jesus turns to look at Peter, and Peter remembers the prediction of his denial. He knows what he’s done, and he comes unraveled. He begins to weep bitterly, and he runs out of the courtyard into the night.

John simply tells us, “Peter again denied it, and at once a rooster crowed” (v 27).

Two interrogations. Tonight, we’ll consider how these

Two Interrogations Confront and Comfort Us.

First, Peter. Peter had gone from napping to sword swinging in a matter of minutes. He had run away with John, gathered his wits, and stirred up his courage to follow at a distance. He was shaking, unsteady, nervous about the drops of Malchus’s blood on his robes. He wanted to know what was happening with Jesus, but he certainly did not want to be known as a disciple. That was too much of a risk. Peter is undercover, a secret follower of Jesus.

But there is something about Peter that causes those gathered around the fire to question him. His look. His accent. His nervous glancing around.

The servant girl at the door, the people standing around the fire, a relative of Malchus: “You are not one of this man’s disciples, are you?”

I wonder what would’ve happened if Peter had been bold to confess, “Yes, I am his disciple and friend.” Would he have been brought before the high priest, called on to make a testimony, bound and led with Jesus to Pilate? Would Peter have been crucified alongside Christ? We’ll never know, because he did not confess but denied him. He was afraid of the ropes, the whips, the threat of punishment and death.

There is a temptation and a danger in the fear of death. Hebrews 2 warns us about this. This is a beautiful and comforting text, but it has a warning for us: “Inasmuch then as the children have partaken of flesh and blood, He Himself likewise shared in the same.” Just as we have a body, Jesus assumes our human nature, our flesh and blood, “that through death He might destroy him who had the power of death, that is, the devil.” The devil, the text tells us, has the power of death, but Jesus’ death is the devil’s destruction. That power can no longer be wielded against us. What’s the result? “[He] release[s] those who through fear of death were all their lifetime subject to bondage” (Heb 2:14–15 NKJV™). Jesus’ suffering releases us from bondage, but this is a very specific bondage; it is the bondage to the fear of death.

Here’s where we must pay careful attention. If we are afraid to die, the devil has us in a kind of bondage, and he can use that fear against us. He used it against Peter. Peter was afraid of suffering, afraid of crucifixion. “Are you his disciple?” “I am not.” He was a fearful and faithless witness. He was interrogated, and he failed.

Jesus used Peter’s failure to teach him humility and the blessing of forgiveness. Jesus would find Peter some days later, after his death and resurrection, and on the shore of Galilee ask him three times, “Do you love me?” Then Peter confesses and is restored. “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you” (see Jn 21:15–19). Peter repented, was forgiven, and put into the office of preaching the Gospel and forgiving sins.

But Peter in his weaknesses and failings is also put before us as an example, a warning. We, too, will be interrogated. “Are you a follower of Jesus? Are you a Christian?” A confession might be costly. No matter. We confess Christ. We make the good confession. We see this in the second interrogation, Jesus before Annas. The stakes were high, but this is why Jesus came. This is his hour. He is asked to give an account of his teaching and disciples. He replies that he taught nothing in private or in secret. He was in the temple where everyone could hear. No doubt Annas and those gathered that night had heard Jesus teaching on many occasions.

Jesus is telling the truth, but, we notice, he does not defend himself. He does not make an argument for his own innocence. He does not turn the tables on his accusers and show them as law breakers. Like a lamb who is silent before its shearers, he opens not his mouth. Jesus is the righteous One, but he doesn’t claim his own righteousness. He is the innocent One, but he doesn’t defend himself. He has no guilt, but he is bearing the guilt of the world.     So Jesus stands in this earthly courtroom and does not defend himself. Why? So that he could stand in the heavenly courtroom to defend us. “We have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous” (1 Jn 2:1). Jesus before Annas reminds us of the comfort of Jesus before the Father.

You might be interrogated about your faith here on earth, and we pray that we will have faith and courage to confess the Lord Christ. But we will not be interrogated in heaven. The Judgment Day is not an interrogation, to inspect our works and check up on our sins. Jesus stands in your place, and he promises, “Most assuredly, I say to you, he who hears My word and believes in Him who sent Me has everlasting life, and shall not come into judgment, but has passed from death into life” (5:24 NKJV™).

Jesus goes to court, but like everything he does, it is not for his benefit, but yours. The Holy One stands in the place of sinners, suffering for our guilt, so that he can stand before the throne of God and advocate forgiveness—for Peter, for all sinners, for you. He declines to defend himself in order that he can defend you, forgive you, cover your shame with his blood and your guilt with his suffering. Amen

Lent 1 2-18-2024

“Get Behind Me, Satan! I’m Baptized!”  Sermon Theme: “Get behind me, Satan! I’m baptized!” Text: Mark 1:9–15 Other Lessons: Genesis 22:1–18; Psalm 25:1–10; James 1:12–18 Goal: That you are equipped by the word of Jesus’ saving work, begun at his Baptism and temptation, to resist the devil, confidently saying, “Get behind me, Satan. I’m baptized!” Thoughts from CPR by  W. Mart Thompson, Associate Professor, Concordia Seminary, St. Louis, Missouri

Sermon

When you experience temptation, say, “Get behind me, Satan! I’m baptized!” The devil tempts us to set our mind on the things of man and not God. He tempts us to sin, to despair, to doubt God’s love and mercy. It’s a battle we face all the time from a hidden enemy. It’s why the Lord’s Prayer teaches us to pray, “Lead us not into temptation. ”Get Behind Me, Satan! I’m Baptized!” is not a mere mantra. It is a confession of faith in the very work of Jesus, who defeated the devil. So how can we be so confident in saying this?

Mark, in his account of Jesus’ temptation, closely connects Jesus’ Baptism with his temptation. He writes that after his Baptism, the Spirit immediately hurled Jesus into the wilderness, where Satan tempted him for forty days. The word “immediately” connects these two events.

Here’s what happened: Jesus’ earthly ministry began as he was baptized by John in the Jordan River. It was a Baptism for sinners. That is important, as we’ll see. When Jesus came out of the water, an amazing cosmic event took place. Mark writes that Jesus saw the heavens “torn open and the Spirit descending on him like a dove” (v 10). As Jesus sees this, he hears God the Father say, “You are my beloved Son; with you I am well pleased” (v 11).

The Father says this because Jesus has set in motion his messianic work to save sinners. He is baptized with the sinners’ Baptism. He has come to be joined to our sinful condition. This pleased the Father. The Holy Spirit is also intimately involved as he now descends upon Jesus, anointing him for his messianic mission.

Jesus’ Baptism, therefore, was a huge inaugural event. The Baptism of our Lord is a very significant part of God’s plan of salvation. Jesus insisted on being baptized with sinners, and the Father commends and the Holy Spirit anoints him for it. The fulfillment of the messianic covenant, made long ago by Jeremiah and other prophets, is now being fulfilled!

If Jesus’ Baptism was the announcement that the Messiah had come to fulfill the covenant God made to save sinners, then Jesus being hurled into the desert was a declaration of war against Satan and the forces of evil. Yes, God had come to take on and defeat the devil!

Once a declaration of war is issued, it is going to happen. You’re committed! In the United States, it takes a two-thirds vote of Congress to declare war against an enemy. In the battle against sin and evil, there’s unanimous consent of the Trinity—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—at the Baptism of Jesus. The evil enemy will be attacked. The Holy Spirit immediately drives Jesus into the wilderness to take on the devil. But it is a very strange battle plan. Mark’s account simply says that out in the wild Satan was tempting Jesus for forty days. Imagine what a spiritually immature Peter might have said. Perhaps something like, “Come on, God. Knock this guy out! Don’t put up with this. He’s no match for you!”

Yet Jesus suffers Satan’s temptations for forty days. Why did he do this? It’s God’s plan to save sinners. Jesus must suffer temptation with and for us. He does this for forty days. He’s the promised Messiah who took the place of Israel, which fell into sin and unbelief. Jesus never yielded. He never fell to temptation. He trusted that God would provide for him. The writer to the Hebrews says he was “tempted in every way, just as we are—yet he did not sin” (Heb 4:15 NIV).

After the forty days, however, the devil didn’t stop. Luke writes that the devil “departed from him until an opportune time” (Lk 4:13). He would hide his attacks. He would come at Jesus as he did through Peter during his earthly ministry. As he did at the cross, when hecklers taunted, “Save yourself, and come down from the cross!” (Mk 15:30). All were still Satan’s attacks, his temptations to abandon the mission to save sinful humankind.

That final attack on Jesus was at the cross, where the war had its crucial battle. There, Jesus’ Baptism would reach its fulfillment (cf Mk 10:39). When Jesus says, “It is finished” and breathes his last (Jn 19:30), the battle is over; the war is won. He descends into hell, as Paul writes, to make “a public spectacle of [Satan and his evil angels], triumphing over them by the cross” (Col 2:15 NIV). After the triumphal procession in hell, Jesus rose from the dead on the third day. His resurrection announced to the world God’s victory over sin, death, and, yes, the devil!

“Get behind me, Satan! I’m baptized!” is not a mere mantra. It’s a confession of faith that Jesus defeated the devil. A Christian can confidently say this because Baptism gives the promise of that victory to you. The Baptism of Jesus resulted in the defeat of Satan. Your Baptism into Jesus’ death and resurrection promises that same for you (cf Rom 6:3–4).

This is why telling Satan to get lost, that you are baptized, is a good strategy. You need such a strategy because the devil, though defeated, is still on the prowl. When an enemy is defeated in war, the leaders of the defeated country are to meet with the victor to acknowledge defeat and ask for terms of peace. However, the devil remains the “father of lies” (Jn 8:44) and acts as if he isn’t defeated—even though God has declared it so. For now, God allows this. So Satan still goes about prowling and seeking whom he may devour with his temptations, accusations, and lies.

But when he tempts you to doubt that Jesus completely paid for all of your sin, say, “Get behind me, Satan! I’m baptized!”

When the devil tempts you to despair, thinking life is hopeless, when he tempts you to indulge your sinful nature, say, “Get behind me, Satan! I’m baptized!”

And, when you fall and he accuses you of guilt before God, say, “Get behind me, Satan! I’m baptized!”

Therefore, when you face any of these attacks, you can confidently say, “Get behind me, Satan! I’m baptized!”

Now, though, a time is coming when you’ll no longer need such a strategy. Jesus has promised to rend the heavens again and come down a second time. When that happens, the devil will no longer be on the prowl. He will be cast from the earth and “thrown into the lake of fire” (Rev 20:14).

Until that time, you and I do well, in the face of Satan’s temptations, to look to the promise of Jesus’ victory in our Baptism and say, “Get behind me, Satan! I am baptized!” Amen.

The Powerless I Am John 18:1–11 Sermon:

This Lenten season, we will give close consideration to the Passion of our Lord Jesus from the Gospel of John. We will hear John 18–19, Jesus’ betrayal and arrest, Jesus facing Annas and Caiaphas, Jesus before Pilate, Jesus delivered, Jesus crucified, and Jesus’ death and burial. We’ll especially consider the divine majesty and glory of Jesus that’s hidden under his suffering and death. We pray that God the Holy Spirit would, by this meditation, imprint the image of Christ crucified in our minds and hearts and on our consciences..

Tonight we are in the garden. The Passion begins and ends in gardens, different gardens. Tomorrow night Jesus will be brought to a garden on the other side of Jerusalem with a new tomb, but now Jesus and his disciples are in the Garden of Gethsemane, an olive grove on the west-facing slope of the Mount of Olives, just east of the city.

Jesus has washed the disciples’ feet. He has instituted the Supper and fed them his body and blood for the forgiveness of their sins. He prayed for the disciples and warned them of all the things about to happen. When all this is finished, the disciples leave the Upper Room and travel east out of Jerusalem, down through the Kidron Valley, and into the garden. Jesus asks the disciples to pray with him, but they sleep while his agony begins. “Father, if possible, let this cup pass from me. But not my will. Your will be done.” Three times he prays with sweat like great drops of blood. The Father’s answer is clear: there is no other way. Jesus will drink this cup of suffering, this cup of God’s anger over sin. The angels comfort him. He rises from prayer and goes to find the eleven disciples.

Judas, who had left earlier and had arranged the betrayal, now comes to the place with soldiers and officials from the Sanhedrin. He indicates to his band which man to arrest by greeting him with a kiss, and then Jesus addresses these soldiers. We’ll pay particular attention to this conversation.

It has often been noted that John gives us seven “I Am” statements from Jesus: “I am the bread of life” (6:35); “I am the light of the world” (8:12); “I am the door” (10:7); “I am the good shepherd” (10:11, 14); “I am the resurrection and the life” (11:25); “I am the way, and the truth, and the life” (14:6); and “I am the true vine” (15:1). These are key to understanding the Gospel of John and to understanding who Jesus is and what he has come to do. Very importantly, they remind us of the conversation Moses had with the Lord in the burning bush: “I am who I am” (Ex 3:14). Jesus is the Lord, God of God, Light of Light, very God of very God.  What’s sometimes missed is the number of other times in John’s Gospel when Jesus says, “I am.” Not “I am something”—“I am the door” or “the way”—but simply “I am.” This gets hidden in our English versions, which will translate it, “I am he,” to make more sense. But this misses the significance. Jesus is claiming to be God. “Before Abraham was, I am” (8:58). “Now I tell you before it comes, that when it does come to pass, you may believe that I Am” (13:19, author’s translation). Here in the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus is about to say this again, twice. And two very different things happen. This is amazing. The soldiers come to Jesus. “Whom do you seek?” Jesus asks. “Jesus of Nazareth,” they declare. Jesus says (ready for it?): “I Am” (vv 4–5, author’s translation).

With that word, Jesus reveals the truth of who he is, and he demonstrates the power of his divine majesty. That word knocks them over. At that word, all the soldiers “drew back and fell to the ground” (v 6). It’s like they’re hit by a tornado: lanterns drop, swords and spears fly, men falling all over one another in a cloud of dust. This is a miracle, a wonder, a sign. One little word, and they are like bowling pins.

But they are not destroyed. They stand up, dust themselves off, pick up their spears. A little dazed, they look at Jesus, who again asks, “Whom do you seek?” Perhaps they’re a little more tentative this time. They look at each other; no one wants to say it. They grit their teeth and grasp their swords and plant their feet: “Jesus of Nazareth” (v 7). And Jesus says it again, “I told you, I Am” (v 8, author’s translation).

And nothing happens. No one falls over. No one teeters. The first “I Am” sent them flying. The second “I Am” doesn’t move them at all.

The first “I Am” shows that Jesus is God in the flesh. The second “I Am” shows that Jesus is not using his power to protect and serve himself. The first “I Am” demonstrates that Jesus could avoid the cross. The second “I Am” shows that he won’t, that he is willingly and quietly led like a sheep to be slaughtered. The first “I Am” is a miracle of God’s power. The second “I Am” is the miracle of God’s weakness, and this is the greater miracle . . . and the greater wonder . . . and the greater gift. The Creator of the universe, the One who spoke and the sun and moon and stars jumped to their place, is here in the garden. The One who spoke and all that existed came to be is about to be arrested. This One speaks, and the band of soldiers is repelled and knocked over, and he is safe. This is no surprise. But then, this One speaks again, and nothing happens. The soldiers are still standing.  They approach Jesus. Nothing happens. They touch him. Nothing happens. They grab him and bind him. Nothing happens. They lead him away to Annas, to Caiaphas. They strike him in the face, spit on him, pull out his beard, strip him, whip him, drag him to Golgotha. Nothing happens. They crucify him, and there is no resistance, no fighting back, no knocking them over with a word. It is all weakness and suffering. And this is all for you. Behold this miracle of weakness! Behold this wonder of humility! Behold the suffering of God for sinners, for you! This, after all, is why Jesus came, why God took up our flesh and blood, so that there’s a back to whip and a brow to crown and hands and feet for the nails and blood to spill, to carry our sin and sorrow, and be the King of our salvation. Jesus Shows His Love for Us in the I Am That Doesn’t Knock the Soldiers Over. So, dear saints, whom do you seek tonight? Jesus of Nazareth, we ask, are you the Savior? He says to you, “I Am.”

Jesus, are you a friend of sinners? “I Am.”

Jesus, are you our light and hope? “I Am.”

Jesus, are you for me? “I Am.” In that promise, we stand. Amen.

Sermon Theme: Jesus lights up our lives.
Text: Exodus 34:29–35
Other Lessons: 2 Kings 2:1–12 (alternate); Psalm 50:1–6;
2 Corinthians 3:12–13 (14–18); 4:1–6; Mark 9:2–9

Jesus is “the light of the world” (Jn 8:12)! In him we see both God and ourselves as we really are, for the Lord Jesus is both the light and the truth (Jn 14:6). Today, Transfiguration Sunday, we see this illustrated in a most dramatic way! We see in shining glory how Jesus Lights Up Our Lives.

Light and truth tend to go together, as do the opposing concepts of darkness, deceit, and peril. All of us are aware of the problem of darkness. Most of us have stumbled in the dark and have a healthy and proper fear of the darkness—especially in unfamiliar situations and environments where danger can be anticipated. Scripture speaks of spiritual light and darkness and warns us: “In their case the god of this world has blinded the minds of the unbelievers, to keep them from seeing the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God” (2 Cor 4:4).

Ironically, we can also be blinded by light. Television commercials try to sell us special visors and glasses that filter out the blinding glare that renders our sight useless in averting danger. The appointed Old Testament Reading for this Transfiguration Day deals with both of these conditions on the opposite sides of the spectrum—blinding and giving vision.

Our text takes place almost a millennium-and-a-half before Jesus’ transfiguration. Was he lighting up the lives of God’s people already way back then?

God is omnipresent, that is, present everywhere. David affirms this in Psalm 139. Today’s Old Testament Reading recounts how Moses was given the privilege to come into the special presence of God and how it caused his face to radiate with a special bright light as a result of that encounter. Moses has been up on Mount Sinai receiving the Ten Commandments—for a second time, by the way, since earlier he shattered the two tablets of stone when he saw Israel shattering the commandments themselves by worshiping the golden calf. Moses has been face to face with God, and now, for the children of Israel, even this reflection of God’s glory on Moses’ face was more than they could look at with steadfastness. It might be likened to driving with the intense light of the rising or setting sun in one’s eyes.

So Moses put on a covering or veil to shield the people from the brightness . . . and also so that their appreciation of the God-given authority with which he spoke would not falter when the glow on his face would lose some of its luster over time, until it was “recharged” by another intimate meeting with God. In this and the other encounters mentioned beforehand, God is hidden and revealed at one and the same time. The light shines, but God must veil his glory so that the people not be blinded.

No human can look at God in the fullness of his glory. Thus God uses what Luther called “masks” to shield sin-ridden humans from his unapproachable light. They give us glimpses of what we can understand about God but hide that which is too profound for us to take in.

The Old Testament constantly points forward to the fulfillment of God’s great plan of salvation in the promised Messiah. While the picture of God’s plan of salvation is most clearly seen in its fulfillment in the person and work of Jesus, God’s gracious and redemptive work is already there to behold in the Old Testament sacrifices and prophecies of God’s spokesmen. Salvation has always been the work of our gracious God and fulfilled only through the atoning work of the Lord Jesus Christ.

Moses wrote that God would not abandon his created people to be taken over by Satan and his evil angels, but that he would raise up a “seed of woman” (cf Gen 3:15) to overcome Satan (identified in Rev 12:9). That “seed of woman” was none other than our Lord Jesus, born of the virgin Mary.

So while it often seems that the Old Testament covenant was primarily a promise that God would grant his people blessings as a nation in this life if they lived under his Lordship, that covenant was actually already shining brightly the light of God’s eternal grace and love in Christ. Old Testament believers already had faith that God would raise them from the dead (Heb 11:17–19). Job, who belonged to the time of the patriarchs, beautifully expressed that faith that God would raise him from the dead when he declared familiar words, “I know that my Redeemer lives, and at the last he will stand upon the earth. And after my skin has been thus destroyed, yet in my flesh I shall see God, whom I shall see for myself, and my eyes shall behold, and not another” (Job 19:25–27).

Of course, the reason this Old Testament Reading was chosen for Transfiguration Day is that Moses makes an appearance with Jesus in today’s Gospel. And here, in Jesus and his transfiguration, the light of God’s grace and love was shining even more brightly than it had through Moses.

Jesus knew what awaited him as he made his way to Jerusalem for the final time. He knew that it would jolt the disciples whom he had prepared for three years to broadcast the Gospel throughout the world. So he gave three of those disciples—Peter, James, and John—a revelation of himself that was unforgettable and spectacular. There, on the Mount of Transfiguration, Jesus’ appearance was suddenly altered—bright, shining white, “as no one on earth could bleach them,” Mark says (Mk 9:3). And standing with Jesus were Moses and Elijah. How the three disciples came to recognize Moses and Elijah is not explained in the biblical account, but to have such spiritual hall of famers support Jesus’ claim to be the one and only prophesied Messiah cannot be dismissed as anything less than stupendous. The glorious light that emanated from Jesus’ body and even his attire was absolutely remarkable.

People often struggle with what Luther called the “Theology of the Cross.” We naturally would prefer a painless “Theology of Glory.” Although Jesus explicitly told his disciples about the betrayal, persecution, and death that awaited him in Jerusalem, the disciples did not process that until after his resurrection. The three undoubtably told the rest of their colleagues about the transfiguration of Jesus they had witnessed, and in God’s perfect time they departed from Jerusalem to the uttermost parts of the known world—and turned it upside down.

Sometimes our light burns brightest to those around us when we encounter and endure hardship and challenges. But certainly the light of God’s grace and love will shine brightest of all when Jesus inaugurates his eternal kingdom. Jesus says to his church, “You are the light of the world” (Mt 5:14). As the moon reflects the light of the sun, so we reflect the light of the Son, that is, the light of the Lord Jesus Christ, who is very God of very God. May we shine brightly and be used by God’s Spirit to aid in the rescue of people who without the Gospel light will exist forever in the outer darkness. Amen.

Folks of a certain age may be familiar with a 1985 movie called The Breakfast Club. The whole movie takes place in one day, specifically, March 24, 1984, when five students from Shermer High School have to report at 7:00 a.m.—hence Breakfast Club—on a Saturday for all-day detention. A voice-over at the beginning describes the five as “a brain, an athlete, a basket case, a princess, and a criminal.” That’s what makes the movie so good—that these five students are so different. If it weren’t for detention, the quintet would never be in the same room, let alone speak to one another. What makes the movie so profound—profound enough to serve as a sermon illustration!—is that they not only talk but also joke, argue, laugh, cry, and become great friends. So, question: Why did that not happen before?

If you’ve been to high school (and in one sense I’m not sure we ever truly get out), you know the answer. Because when your identity, your who-you-are, is a brain or an athlete or a basket case or a princess or a criminal, you hang out with the brains or the athletes or the basket cases or the princesses or the criminals—because if you don’t, if you fail to live up to the expectations of those groups, those tribes, those cliques, then you risk getting the boot, having no identity at all, and eating your cafeteria Tater Tots all by yourself. So what happened with the Breakfast Club? Well, they got a new identity, specifically one as detainees, a new common identity that trumped all those others and freed them, in this case, to be friends.

     Freed just the way Paul was, and we are . . . kind of.

Imagine a pre-Damascus-road Paul as a student at “Shermer High School” (a metaphor for a world in which we’re enslaved to one identity or another).What’s his group/tribe/clique? A Jew? A Pharisee? Top of his class? Zealous enforcer? (See Phil 3:4–6; 2 Cor 11:22–29.)

          Before Jesus met him on the way to Damascus, these are what Saul just was, what drove his every action and interaction, and without which there was no Saul.        Imagine yourself at “Shermer High School.” What’s your group/tribe/clique? Perhaps try some diagnostic questions to help identify the tribe from which you get your “who am I?” Whose approval do you need or crave?

Whose disapproval would crush you? Whom would you most like to see fail (and there are some!)? If you’re exhausted right now, is it because you feel you can’t keep up? And, if so, with whom are you trying to keep up? Why do you live where you live? It is hard to see and admit (confess!) how we get enslaved to the expectations of the brains, athletes, basket cases, princesses, criminals, and so on—but we do!

Often those who most deny it are most enslaved.

Since I am free from all . . . (v 19).    “Since” may be a better rendering than “though.” At the very least, “though” should include a “since.” What happened to Paul so that he could recognize his earlier life as Jew/top-notch-Pharisee/enforcer to be slavery to the group/tribe/expectations? Jesus! Jesus happened to him. Jesus transformed Saul! Jesus showed up and gave him a new identity! The risen Jesus gave him a sure identity, surer than death! The gracious Jesus gave him an identity he didn’t have to prove/earn/virtue signal again and again! The forgiving Jesus gave him an identity he can’t mess up! (My-Everyday-Struggle with-Sin) Is-Annihilated by Him) MESSIAH Priceless treasure Jesus gave him an identity that made all the other stuff pulling his strings and that he’d thought was so important look like a pile of rubbish (Phil 3:8).

     Just like you! All the same is true of you! Who are you? A brain, an athlete, a basket case, a princess, a criminal? No—at least not first, and definitely not only!

Your name tag reads Baptized Child of God! Eternally beloved! Fully forgiven! Then, March 26, 1984, for Paul—and you. While in detention at Shermer High, each of the five was supposed to be writing a thousand-word essay answering the question: “Who do you think you are?” While they don’t get around to writing until the end—actually “the brain” writes one essay on behalf of all five—the point is that by 4:00 p.m., March 24, the detainees were not who they thought they were at 7:00 a.m.

      A question that goes left unanswered in the movie is what happened on Monday, March 26, when the brain, athlete, basket case, princess, and criminal went back to Shermer High. Did the common identity forged on March 24 stand, or do they go back to the “slavery” of the cliques? By the time Paul wrote his well-over-a-thousand-word essay to the Corinthians, he knew very well who he was and to what he was or wasn’t beholden.

Paul doesn’t have to live up to the Corinthians’ expectations for him (as one of the strong ones). The now-believing-in-Jesus Paul has a new identity. In Jesus, Paul is free. Since he is free from all the enslaving identities/expectations, he is free to, well, do what comes naturally to the new identity! Gripped and captivated by the gracious call of Jesus, secure in an identity that cannot be taken away, he does what he cannot help but do: namely, preaching the Gospel by which enslaved sinners are set free. With no one left to impress, Paul is free to “become all things to all people” (v 22). So now it’s your March 26, 1984. You Are Free in Jesus. What are you—Child of God—now free to do? Your calling is probably different from Paul’s, but your identity is the same. You’re possessed by Jesus. You are a member of the Body of Christ. If you can stand the hokeyness, welcome to the Jesus Club! So, Child of God, what are you now free to do? A brain, an athlete, a basket case, a princess, a criminal . . . butcher, baker, candlestick maker. Whoever you are, you’ve been transformed by Jesus. He’s marked you as his own. There’s no one to impress. Just people to love. Amen.