We All Need to be Humbled

We have an enemy, and I’m not talking about Russia, China, or a political party. I’m not talking about different religions, different worldviews, or secularism. I’m not talking about terrorists or atheists. I’m not talking about demons or devils, or even Satan himself.

I’m talking about something that is anti-God, anti-truth, anti-gospel. I’m talking about something that often attempts to dethrone God and erase his word. I’m talking about something that will stab backs and detray friends. I’m talking about something that tears apart churches and ruptures fellowship. I’m talking about something so threatening, so dangerous, you could say it puts us in the dangers of hellfire itself.

And what I’m talking about is something that is right here in this room. More specifically, it’s in every one of our hearts: it is pride.

One Puritan once said that “humility makes men angels; pride makes angels devils.” And, if we’re being honest, we must face the fact that there’s devilry in all our hearts.

Now what’s particularly insidious about pride is that it’s an invisibility cloak. Whoever is clothed in pride is unable to see himself. Pride is a shapeshifter. It can look like rebellion or religion. It can look like a thief or a theologian. Pride can drive a man to be a movie star or a minister. We all have it, it’s dangerous, it’s destructive, and yet, we rarely have the self-awareness to address it, to repent of it, or to turn from it. And because we cannot see it, we cannot see how deep it goes, or how pervasive its influence is.

Pride. I wonder how aware of your own pride? The question isn’t whether or not you are in danger of pride. The question is how long have you left the cancer of pride untreated?

In our text this morning, as Jesus comforts his disciples by telling them exactly what’s going to happen in the next few days, Peter’s self-reliance and pride surges forth. The interchange between Jesus and Peter is instructive for us; and my prayer is that we are humbled and Jesus is exalted as we study this text.

Read Mark 14:26-31

We’ll break up this study into two major points: 1) Jesus’ comfort - which will have three subpoints, and 2) Peter’s protest - which will also have three subpoints.

Jesus’ Comfort. He leads them in song, he tells them their future failure, and he tells them their future restoration.

He leads them in song. Let’s get a little context. It’s Thursday night. Jesus has just eaten the passover meal with his disciples. He predicted in verse 18 that one of them would betray him. They were horrified, each in turn saying, “Is it I?” Jesus didn’t tell them exactly who. And as they continued to eat the Passover Meal, Jesus transformed it into the Lord’s Supper, communion, a meal for the church (22-25). During the meal, he spoke of his body and blood being given up - he knew he was going to die. He was comparing himself to that Passover lamb who was slaughtered so that his people could escape the judgment.

In other words, it was a somber time. The sun would have been setting. No streetlights or electric bulbs illuminated the roads or houses; it was getting dark. The arrest and betrayal have to be soon; they could feel it in the air. And in verses 26-28, Mark records how Jesus begins comforting his disciples in these dark, solemn moments.

Jesus comforts them by leading them in song. Verse 26 says “And when they had sung a hymn.” The final part of the Last Supper, and just as Jesus led them through the meal, he would have led them in this song. They’ve been told their friend is going to die; their hope is going to die; their Messiah is going to die. They’ve been told that one of them is going to be guilty of betrayal, and that the one who betrays will be damned (verse 21). And they wrap it up by singing a hymn. This may have been a number of psalms put to music.

How I would have loved to hear Jesus sing! Let’s observe something here. This isn’t the main point, but it’s certainly an implication. The modern American church has adopted a strange approach to its singing. The church is expected to create an environment where emotions run high, where enthusiasm is visible and expressive, where hands are raised and eyes are closed and hands are clapping. Those things become the metrics for evaluating our worship.

Some churches have even adopted new language to refer to corporate worship: they don’t have a worship service anymore, it’s a worship experience. And the songs they sing are mainly happy, mainly about victory, mainly about the glad things - great things to sing about. But what about laments? What about songs for the tortured souls? What about sad people? What about the miserable? What about the unhappy and the broken and those who weep? The Bible has a worship book - it’s called the Psalms - and half of those songs are laments - unhappy, tormented pleas in the midst of darkness. Where are those songs?

Jesus led his disciples in singing at one of the darkest moments of their lives. This is why we sing laments. This is why we sing, “I Asked the Lord that I Might Grow.” This is why we sing “Afflicted Saint to Christ Draw Near.” This is why we sing, “Lord from Sorrows Deep I Call.”

And if you think singing is a dispensable, unnecessary part of our gatherings, if you’re the type that wants to show up for the sermon only because you’re mature and you want meat and you don’t need any songs - then you’re standing opposite your church that commends it, your savior who modeled it, and your God who commanded it. Church, value corporate singing - even in the darkest of times.

Christian, have you learned yet, how much singing is a part of your following Jesus?

He tells them their future failure. Look at what he does, vs 27 “And Jesus said to them, “You will all fall away, for it is written, ‘I will strike the shepherd, and the sheep will be scattered.’

He tells them that they will “all fall away.” The Greek word is skandalizo, where we get the word scandal from. It refers to being made to stumble, to sin. It’s a powerful word, in some places it refers to complete apostasy. Here, it’s referring to a big, dramatic fall into sin. The scandal is that when Jesus is at the darkest moment of testing, they will abandon him.

The basis of this prediction is Zechariah 13:7, which is a prophetic passage from the Old Testament. The “I” in the passage is God; the “shepherd” in the passage is the Messiah, Jesus, and the “sheep” in the passage are his followers.

It indicated the moment where God the Father says he will “strike” the Messiah, and that as he does, the sheep - those who followed the Messiah, will scatter.

Jesus is saying that when he dies, the disciples’ loyalty will be tested, and it will be found wanting. The previous section said that one person would betray Jesus, now he’s saying all the disciples will leave him. They’re all going to fail. They’re all going to falter. For three years they’ve been following him, and now they’re all going to give up on Jesus. Jesus knows that it’s going to happen.

Pause and consider what Jesus is saying. He is saying that the Old Testament prophet predicted that God would strike down his own Messiah. Some have called this “divine child abuse” - that God the father would strike his own Son. But that betrays a fundamental misunderstanding of how it works: Jesus, the Son of God, willingly went to lay his life down to atone for the sins of God’s elect.

If you are not familiar with Christianity, this is the heart of it all. We believe that the God who is, the true God, the living God, the holy God, the just, righteous, and true God, the God who will judge the world, the God who will condemn the wicked; is a God of mercy, and that the way he provides mercy for the world is not by ignoring our sin. Instead, for everyone who trusts in him, God places their sins upon his Son, the Messiah, and punishes him in their place. So that all who turn from their sins and trust in him will experience their burden of guilt and sin removed, forgiveness granted, and eternal life.

God did not send his Son to die for heroic, brave, strong men. The men he came to save were literally running from him as soon as things got too hard. And he knew it would be that way.

He tells them their future restoration. Vs. 28 “But after I am raised up.” He would lay down his life and make payment for the sins of his people, and then he would take up his life again, vindicating all his claims and demonstrating his divine power. And then he says that after his resurrection he’ll meet his disciples again in Galilee. “I will go before you to Galilee.”

In other words, the way Jesus is comforting his disciples is by opening up his playbook and telling them exactly what’s going to happen. He is not surprised by any of these events. He is aware of all of this. This has been his mission: lay his life down for sinners, rise from the dead in victory over sin, and then to regather his people to himself for worldwide mission.

Everything Jesus predicts comes true. The disciples fall away, 14:50, Jesus dies on the cross, 15:37; he is raised from the dead in 16:1-8; they meet him in Galilee in Matt 28.

This demonstrates the divine nature of Jesus. He has an utter command of the situation. His perfect knowledge of the future and his certain promise of his resurrection both point to his divinity. To follow Jesus is not to follow one of the many great teachers humanity has produced. No, Jesus is in a category of his own. No one did anything like him. And that’s because he is in a category all by himself. He is God incarnate. He created all, knows all, rules all, accomplishes all his purposes, and cannot be thwarted.

But Jesus not only infinite in power. He is astoundingly merciful. Isn’t it amazing that Jesus chose them knowing that they’d fail him in the hour of his most dire need? He has called them, loved them, devoted himself to them. And all along he knew they were going to fail him. Jesus was not surprised at their failures.

There’s a scene in the movie Braveheart where William Wallace, the hero, is struck down by a man in a steel helmet on a horse. Wallace lies as though dead, and when the helmeted man comes to take a closer look at Wallace, Wallace leaps up and removes his helmet, only to discover it was his close friend and ally who had betrayed him in the most critical battle. It’s a moving scene, and the acting is superb. He is shocked, gutted, not angry but heartbroken, that a brother-at-arms would turn on him like that.

Jesus experiences no such shock, no surprise, no bewilderment, no perplexity when his disciples betray him. Personalize this, church. When he died for your sins, when he forgave you, when he welcomed you into his family, he knew all your past sins, yes, but he also knew the sins you would commit. He never thinks, “Wow, when I said I’d forgive her sins, I didn’t mean all those sins. Man, that’s a bit over-the-top.” He never sins, “Welp, your failure quota is full today, so from now on it’s judgment until you shape up.”

We are so conditioned to think that the love of Christ is based on our performance! But Christ’s love originates from within himself. We do not draw it out of him because of our loveliness. No, he pours it out upon us because he is love incarnate. And he has chosen to set his love upon us, knowing what we’ve done, how we fall short, and all the ways we’ll fail in life. We are the bundle of sin and folly and weakness he has decided to deluge with mercy.

One of the saddest conditions is a Christian, guilty and convicted of sin, who feels that he cannot come to Jesus for forgiveness and healing. Any Jesus who won’t receive and forgive sinners is not the true Jesus. That’s an imposter Jesus. The true Jesus already knew your sins, knew failures, and missteps, and he invites you to come!

Peter’s Protests

Verse 29 “Peter said to him, “Even though they all fall away, I will not.” Peter latches on to the falling away part of what Jesus says, and finds it impossible. Just a few verses ago, they all humbly asked “Is it I?” when Jesus said one of them would betray him. As they processed that, it’s as if each of them resolved to not be the one who falls away.

Now Jesus responds to Peter’s protest by not only confirming that he will, in fact, fall away, but that he will do it in a matter of hours, and that he will do it three times: 30 And Jesus said to him, “Truly, I tell you, this very night, before the rooster crows twice, you will deny me three times.”

Peter, in that moment feeling rather bold and courageous, taking on his Savior and Master and God, replies: “31 But he said emphatically,” that word is only used here, it is also translated “insistently,” or “vehemently,” or “he kept insisting” or he “insisted emphatically” - the point is that Peter is demonstrating his characteristic aggression: “If I must die with you, I will not deny you.”

And Peter, the natural leader, influences the rest of the group: “And they all said the same.”

Now, if we did not know that in a matter of verses, Peter would be cowering in fear before a schoolgirl, these might be heroic words. But since we know what is to come, we see they are actually expressions of his pride. He is not who he thinks he is.

The Peter in his head and the Peter in reality are two different Peters. There’s a Peter up in his head that is valiant, courageous, brave, noble, and loyal. And the Peter in real life is actually weak, feeble, panicky. Willing to betray his own friend and savior.

You know, I think we are like Peter in this way. I think we have an idea in our heads of who and what we are that is often much different that who we actually are. And most of our lives Christ helps us align the version in our heads with reality.

Are you aware of ways you think more highly of yourself than you ought? I want to analyze Peter’s response and see if we can’t learn from him.

He thinks he’s unique. Look at his words, “Even though they all fall away, I will not.” I’m different. I’m unique. I have something they don’t. I am more discerning. I am more resilient. I am better educated. I am more theologically sound. I have better training. This could never happen to me.

We believe the lie that we are not susceptible to the same temptations and dangers of other people. We forget that we’re human, that we’re fallen, and that we are in danger.

Peter set himself apart from the rest. “They might, but I never will.” Do you ever have those thoughts? They might fail, but I would never.

I read an article about the moral failures of Christian leaders. Invariably, they began with the same issue Peter demonstrates here: “That would never happen to me.” Have you convinced yourself that you are not susceptible to certain sins?

1 Corinthians 10:12 “Therefore let anyone who thinks that he stands take heed lest he fall.”

He thinks they’re worse. Did you notice the subtle way he insulted the rest of the disciples? “They might all fall. Not me.”

This is simply not how mature Christians think. Mature believers are like Paul. He spoke of himself as the foremost of sinners. He called himself the least of the apostles. He called himself the “very least of all the saints” (Eph. 3:8). He thought of himself as a “jar of clay.” He said, “Who is sufficient for these things?” In other words, he had a deep and profound humility. He was convinced of his own lowliness. As heroic as Peter sounds here, the mature apostle Paul never sounded like that.

Here, Peter has reversed it. These guys are the least of all the saints. These guys are failures. These guys are going to blow it. But I’m different.

And how did it express itself in his mind? He would not trust his friends. He had a high view of himself, which led to a condescending view of others, which led to his questioning of their faithfulness.

Your soul has a check engine light on if you are regularly criticizing the imperfect faithfulness of the other Christians around you. Peter felt superior to the other disciples. Do you feel superior to other church members?

He thinks he cannot fail. His pride made him self-confident. He felt able. He felt strong. He felt capable. I think this is a good test to know if someone is ready for leadership. The best church leaders don’t assert themselves into leadership. They are called into it. They come humbly. There’s a fear and trembling at the prospect of such a weighty responsibility. They know that their shoulders can only bear the weight if propped by divine strength.

John Piper recounts in his fantastic book, Brothers, We Are Not Professionals: “I was amazed once to hear a seminary graduate say how adequate he felt for the ministry after his years of schooling. This was supposed to be a compliment to the school. The reason this amazed me is that the greatest living theologian and missionary and pastor who ever lived cried out, ‘Who is sufficient for these things?’ (2 Cor. 2:16)...A pastor [or Christian, I might add] who feels competent in himself to produce eternal fruit - which is the only kind that matters - knows neither God nor himself.”

As pastors, our responsibility is to equip you, the church, for the work of ministry. If you ever swagger out of here confident in your ability to do everything God requires of you, we’ve failed.

You see, our biggest problem is not that we’re weak; it’s that we have delusions of strength. Our delusions of strength are far more dangerous than our weaknesses. According to Paul, the power of God rests upon us when we are weak.

When you are given a responsibility in service of the Lord, don’t rise up and say, “I can do it!” Get down on your knees and say, “Lord, only you can do it.”

This is, by the way, failure is God’s best classroom. It hurts to be humbled. It is painful to be embarrassed when our sins get exposed. But it is so good for us. Because it helps us see who we really are, and how needy we are.

You might be feeling failure right now. Failure as a husband or as a wife. Failure as a son or a daughter. Failure as a friend, an employee, a boss. Don’t despair; maybe you didn’t know it, but God has registered to take a class on humility. And lessons 1-10 require failure.

We need to be humbled. As heroic as Peter sounds, God does not need our heroism; he requires our humility.

The church doesn’t need more heros, like Peter, boldly declaring their allegiance to Jesus.

The church needs humble men, who know their weakness, who recognize their inadequacy, but are confident in God who uses the weak.

Humble yourself. So many of us refuse to get busy with the Lord’s work because we’re afraid that we’ll fail. Guess what: you will fail. So did the disciples. But the power of the ministry does not rest on your ability to perform. Christ always uses weak men. I like what A.T. Robinson said, “If God could not use poor instruments and feeble voices, He would make no music.”

There are some of you who came to our church a year or so ago, initially not sure what you had to offer. Somewhere along the line you were told you had spiritual gifts of helps or service. And so you never spoke up, never discipled anyone, never verbally encouraged people in the Lord, never saw yourself as a leader, never saw yourself as having much influence. And I’ve seen God work in you so that you’re meeting with people, reading Scripture, praying for the lost, encouraging the church. Because you stopped sitting there wondering if you had what it takes and you started realizing that you don't, but that Jesus does, and that’s all that matters.

Church, pride looks heroic but it kills ministry. Because our pride will make our ministry about our abilities. When you’re humble, and you want glory for God, and you trust in the sovereign power of Christ, then you stop staring into the mirror and you start moving outward toward others in love.

Jesus comforted his disciples by telling them: You will fail me in my darkest hour, and leave me to die. But I will conquer death, and forgive your faiture, and restore you to myself.

Church, you will fail Jesus. But as you humble yourself and look to him, he will conquer your failure, forgive your sin, and restore you to himself.