My Rescuer

Well, let me tell you how this all went down. It started with Herod. You’re probably familiar with the Herods. ‘Herod the Great’ slaughtered all those babies after the Magi came looking for Jesus. His son, ‘Herod Antipas’ beheaded John the Baptist. And now, the grandson of ‘Herod the Great’—‘King Herod Agrippa I’—attacks the church.

Like all the other Herods before him, Agrippa wants all the attention for himself. And anytime any attention is directed toward anyone else, anytime anyone else gains a following or popularity, the Herods set themselves against the movement. Herod Agrippa was a glory seeker and a Jesus-hater. He did what was going to make him popular, whatever was going to earn the favor of whichever people he was with. He was a political chameleon.

King Herod Agrippa, as he’s known, hates Jesus and His followers more than you could begin to understand; he loves to arrest and persecute Jesus-people. Those belonging to the church receive a great deal of persecution and torture at his hand. Just a few days ago, Herod had James, the brother of John, put to death with the sword...

Herod killed James simply for being one of Jesus’ apostles, one of Jesus’ disciples, one of the leaders of the church. He killed my friend…my brother in Christ. Cut off his head, just like his uncle did with John the Baptist.

Oh, how we miss James…James and John and I were close. We had, the three of us, spent more time with Jesus than anyone else. We were his closest friends, his “inner circle”; we witnessed a lot of Jesus’ incredible works and teachings, and, sometimes as friends do, we argued over some pretty silly stuff:

“I’m gonna sit next to Jesus!”

“No, I am!”

Poor James. We’re still sad he’s gone, especially his brother John. But, this we know: to live is Christ, and to die is gain. We miss our friend, our brother; we’re also pretty jealous of him. James is with the Lord. James is at this very moment, gathered ‘round the throne, worshiping our Heavenly Father and the Risen Lord Jesus. Lucky fella.

Herod, as you know, is just another in a long line of enemies. Pick your tyrant: Pharaoh, Jezebel, Nebuchadnezzar. God’s people have always faced persecution.

I can remember right where I was sitting when Jesus told us: “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”

As always, Jesus was right…on both counts!

Jesus has overcome the world. We know, even as we grieve James’ death, that Jesus has crushed the head of the serpent. Jesus triumphed over death as He vacated the tomb. Jesus ascended into heaven before my very eyes, and He sits there now, ruling and reigning over all.

Jesus could have saved James, but He didn’t—and this was, somehow, for His own purposes.

I have to believe:

God is Sovereign

God’s ways are fathomless. We can’t ultimately comprehend the works of God. Sometimes believers (dear James and Stephen) suffer terribly, and sometimes God delivers miraculously. We can’t predict the ways of God, but we can trust Him. We believe that His ways are wise, good, and just.

How do we know this? How can I believe this in light of what Herod has just done?

Because God gave us His Son. This changes everything. I don’t have a good explanation for James’ death, but I know, in Christ, God will raise us from the dead. We will dwell with Him in the new heaven and the new earth, where sin and suffering can’t touch us.

The death of my good friend, my brother, would’ve caused me to doubt, had I no belief that God is sovereign, in-control, using all this for His plan, working all this out for His glory, our good, and the advancement of the gospel message.

If I had no belief that God was the Almighty Sovereign of the universe, this would make no sense. I would despair. I would never get over it, the loss of my brother, if I didn’t believe God was Sovereign.

But, this I have to believe. God is sovereign. He is in charge. Nothing occurs outside His sovereign will and purposes.

It’s good I have that part of my theology settled, because I barely had time to process the death of James when Herod came after me.

You see, Herod’s killing of James was met with such approval—the Jewish people liked it very much; so much so that Herod thought, “Why not keep at it? Arrest and kill me some more ‘Christians’?”

So he sent some men to find me. They seized me, arrested me, put me in prison, and had me guarded by 4 squads of 4 soldiers. You heard me—4 squads of 4 soldiers. You kids can do the math. What’s 4 x 4 = ?

16 soldiers : one prisoner. Ha! That’s quite the ratio.

Maybe the story of me cutting off Malchus’ ear the night they came to arrest my Jesus had traveled and grown in lore, as most stories do. The probably had me pegged as some mean, lean fighting machine. Who knows! 16 guards was probably a little excessive, but there you go.

They might have thought back several months to when the high priest and his buddies arrested me and the rest of the apostles. Remember what happened? An angel of the Lord busted us out! 16 guards isn’t going to stop the Sovereign Lord or an angel of the Lord; it’s kind of cute they think it will...

I was being guarded until the Passover festival was over. Herod, I’m told, intended a public trial after the festival. Can’t interfere with Passover, so we’ll wait until it’s complete.

I was kept in prison, but the church was praying to God. Prison or prayer—which do you think has more power?

You might be thinking: “Prayer?!? All they did was pray?!?! Why not storm the castle, take up arms?!”

Of all the church could be doing for me, I’m glad they prayed. Prayer is the church’s weapon. Prayer is an act of defiance to opposition. Prayer is placing dependent confidence in the sovereign God who hears prayers and rules over all. When the church prays, they’re entrusting everything to Him—the One who can shut lions’ mouths and break chains and open prison doors.

Prayer is depending on God, trusting God to act in whatever way He knows is best.

Prison bars or prayer to God? Which of the two is more effective?

You’re right; the God who hears and answers prayers is neither intimidated nor inconvenienced by chains or guards or prison bars.

They’ve got prison. But we’ve a much more powerful weapon: prayer to the Sovereign One, the Creator God, the One who parted the Red Sea and keeps all things in ordered existence is not threatened by any scheme of man or power of hell.

Having a steadfast belief in the sovereign power of my Heavenly Father, when they chained me up between two guards, this is what I did:

I shared the Good News about Jesus with this one (right hand) and that one (left hand) and the guards standing outside my cell, I sang a couple of songs, told them I loved them, said a prayer for them, rested my head on the stone wall behind me, and went to sleep.

I wasn’t worried about it getting out. I stopped the nervous habit of biting my nails years ago. I didn’t even think about trying to negotiate a deal with the guards. I just went to sleep.

I can sleep anywhere, anytime. Inside, outside; at home, in jail—it makes no difference.

I can sleep anywhere, anytime, because I know that God—the Almighty Maker of Heaven and Earth— “will not let my foot slip. He who watches over me will not slumber; indeed, He who watches over Israel, will neither slumber nor sleep.” (Psalm 121:3-4) That’s from my favorite Psalm.

Because God does not sleep, I can. He’s got this. Sometimes, friends, the most spiritual thing you can do is take a nap.

Sleeping is good at reminding me: “Hey there, Pete. Remember, you can’t handle this. You have little to no power to do anything but mess things up. But God who neither slumbers nor sleeps is on top of it. You can’t handle this, but He can. You might as well go to sleep and let Him work it out.”

So I sleep. I slept there in that prison. Why wouldn’t I?

Turns out, I’m a pretty hard sleeper. When I sleep, I sleep. Like Jesus sleeping in the boat while the storm raged on, I completely missed the angel’s arrival. The light that shone all around didn’t wake me up; I wasn’t aware of any light until the angel hit me. Yeah, you heard correctly: the angel hit me!

Well, “hit me” might not sound right…the angel “poked me forcefully” on the side. It’s still a little tender, if I’m being honest. The light didn’t wake me, but that not-so-gentle nudge sure did. I’m not entirely sure the angel didn’t kick me in the ribs!

“Quick, get up!” the angel commanded.

I was about to say something snarky (I have a bit of history saying things I shouldn’t)—I was just about to say something like, “Uh, well, you see, I’m kind of chained to these two gentlemen...” when the chains just fell off.

I got up, got dressed, strapped on my sandals, wrapped my cloak around me, and followed the angel, and out of the prison, we went.

Can I be honest with ya’ll? Up to this point, I have to admit…I had zero idea that what the angel was doing was really happening; I thought I might be seeing a vision. It sure seemed like a dream. It kind of reminded me of that sheet with all the animals on it—that vision God gave me before I met my buddy, Cornelius.

All of this felt like a dream. The angel and I passed one guard, and then another, and then came to the gate that led from the fortress into the city.

And you know what? That gate opened all by itself! Kid you not! The big iron gate opened the same way the stone was rolled away: by God’s mighty power. Pretty sure it was the first automated gate in history (Greek: automate)!

We walked the length of one street, and suddenly the angel was gone.

I finally came to my senses. One of those A-HA! moments. The angel led and then left; rescued and then retreated. This I know:

God is My Rescuer

I remember saying out loud, right then and there: “Now I know without a doubt that the Lord has sent His angel and rescued me from Herod’s clutches and from everything the Jewish people were hoping would happen.”

I knew it.

Without a doubt.

It was clear as day.

God rescued me many years ago. He sent Jesus to me, to save me from myself. It was years ago now—almost 5 years ago—when I first met Jesus. Jesus called me to Himself, saying, “Follow Me!” I left what I was doing and followed Him.

It was the best decision I’ve ever made. Hands down. I was a screw-up, and I still am sometimes. But Jesus loved me, loves me, will always love me—in spite of myself. Jesus saved me. You see, God called me “out of darkness into His marvelous light.” (That’s a pretty good line. I should write that down. (1 Peter 2:9).

God rescued me years ago from a life of sin and selfishness, from an eternity spent apart from Him. He sent His only Son to save me, to rescue me from the muck and the mire. In order to reconcile me, Jesus took my place.

God rescued me. And He rescues me. He just did. I know without a doubt the Lord sent that angel to rescue me from whatever Herod was planning for me. He’s my Rescuer.

I know God rescued me all on His own, by His power alone; I had absolutely nothin’ to do with it. I thought the whole thing was a dream! All I did was walk where I was told, still half-asleep.

Because He rescued me and daily rescues me, I know He will rescue me from whatever I face, and will continue to rescue until He returns or calls me home; I am safe and secure in my Father’s hand.

“Now I know without a doubt that the Lord has sent His angel and rescued me from Herod’s clutches and from everything the Jewish people were hoping would happen.”

After that dawned on me—ol’ hard-headed Peter—I headed off to Mary’s house. There are a lot of Marys to keep track of; this Mary is John Mark’s mom. Her house was our favorite gathering place, big enough to hold all of us.

Actually, it was in the upper room of Mary’s house that we ate dinner with Jesus the night He was betrayed. The discipled hid out there after Jesus’ crucifixion. The church assembled at Mary’s house several times a week; I knew after the angel had left that Mary’s house was where I should go. My brothers and sisters would be there, and they were praying for me.

When I got to Mary’s, I knocked on the outer gate, the entrance into the courtyard that led to the house (Mary was fairly well-to-do; this was a fancy place with courtyards and paid staff. I wish you could see it). From the street, I could hear the church, all the Jesus-people, inside praying.

When I knocked, a girl named Rhoda came to answer.

“Hello!? Hello?! Knock! Knock!”

Through the narrow slats in the wooden gate, I saw Rhoda stop in her tracks, giant smile on her face, recognizing my voice. But, in her excitement, she turned around and ran back to the house without opening the gate for me!

Sweet, silly girl! I just kept knocking. “Knock, knock! Anybody home? How ‘bout letting me in!”

I overheard some of the people gathered at Mary’s tease Rhoda: “Ha ha ha! Your’e out your mind!”

Poor Rhoda. There I was, knocking on the gate, she recognized my voice, but they wouldn’t listen to her. Boy, were they going to feel foolish.

Some of them, I’m later told, were convinced it was my angel knocking and not me.

I laugh about it now. Here the church was, gathered, praying for me, praying that God’s will be done in this situation, that Herod would take it easier on me than he had on James, all the while the answer to their prayers was standing right outside the gate.

Here I am, standing right outside, and they decide it’s a good time to discuss the theology of guardian angels.

It was no angel at the gate.

*Knock* *Knock* “Rhoda,” I whispered, “Let me in!”

When the group finally decided to let me in, I had to quiet them down. I was, mind you, a wanted man. Herod didn’t need any help to hunt me down.

Once they were quieted, I described to them how the Lord rescued me, bringing me out of prison. I told them to make sure to tell James (not John’s brother, but Jesus’ half-brother, James—one of the main leaders of the church in Jerusalem); they had to make sure to tell James and the rest of the brothers and sisters this story.

This is one of those stories you tell and just keep on telling.

You tell this story over and over and over.

You corner people and tell this story; it’s among my favorite to tell.

We should tell the story of God’s great rescue over and over and over. We should never stop telling people about what Jesus has done for us, how He has rescued us. We should tell whoever will listen that God is able to do more than we can ask or imagine.

After I filled them in, I left Mary’s house and that gathering and headed out to tell some others about what Jesus just done for me.

The sinful and foolish part of me wanted to go back and taunt the guards. I even thought of a song and dance: “Can’t touch this!” I’m thankful the Holy Spirit didn’t let me...

I wouldn’t stay away for long, but I had to show and tell.

I heard later that there was quite a ruckus, a commotion among the soldiers who had been entrusted to guard me—you can imagine! Their lives were on the line, after all, according to Roman law. Herod searched thoroughly, all over town, and couldn’t find me. He interviewed all the guards, cross-examining them, and then ordered them be put to death.

I hated to hear that. I wished them no harm. I wanted them and Herod to come to know Jesus, my Rescuer, Redeemer, and Friend.

Things don’t go much better for Herod than they went for the soldiers. Herod, turns out, was immensely popular, and it was his popularity and pride that got the best of him. One day, Herod, dressed all fancy, took a seat on his throne, and gave an impressive speech. He was hailed as some sort of god. Herod took the praise, self-exalting himself to a place only One belongs.

Herod was struck down by the angel who led me out of his prison. And he was eaten by worms and died.

Yikes!

Here is the point: our Enemy, try as he might, cannot, will not overpower the Risen Lord Jesus or the Sovereign, All-Powerful God.

Herod was as powerful as they come (humanly speaking), but he was not more powerful than my God. Those who oppose the Lord will lose. The Lord doesn’t always settle accounts immediately, but He will vanquish every foe.

Try as he might, I tell all the Jesus-people, Satan cannot stop the church. The word of God will continue to spread and flourish; nothing’ll stop it. The Risen Lord Jesus continues to build His church.

Trust me, friends: you can trust Him. Pray to Him, believing He is able. Go to sleep tonight, believing He’s taking care of whatever you’re facing. He is Sovereign over all things. He breaks chains. He frees prisoners. He gives life. He rescues the helpless.

The True King’s mission is unstoppable. I have first-hand experience and can tell you, there is opposition, strong and fierce. But our King is triumphant, always.

And nothing, nothing, nothing can separate me from His love.

If you belong to Jesus, no trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword can separate you from the love of Christ.

Nothing, nothing, nothing can separate you who are in Christ from the love of God.

That’s the story of my rescue, and more importantly, the story of my Rescuer.

[Play Video]

“Father above, thank you for your rescue, for sending to us Jesus to rescue us from the grip of sin and Satan. We trust you, in your sovereign purpose; we entrust ourselves and those we love to your care, for you are good and kind and faithful. You give us grace, amazing and free. Give us the courage to share the Good News that Jesus conquered sin and death, that He reigns supreme, and that He’s coming again and soon! Come, Lord Jesus, come! Amen.”