God’s Providence in the Death of Jesus Christ

If I may, I’d like to add, if you like, a correlative passage to that in Acts chapter 4, if your Bible is still open. Those words from Acts chapter 2 are then followed by a significant response to this first sermon. I don’t know that any of us have ever had such a reaction to a sermon. Some three thousand people apparently believed and were baptized. It must have been quite an encouragement for him when he went home for his supper and then… (Wonderful to be able to tell your wife, “How was the evening service?” “Pretty good, actually.”) And then we have the healing of the lame man and all the confusion that emerges from that and the response of religious orthodoxy to it. And in the imprisonment of Peter and John, we’ll pick it up from 4:23.

They are then released. And “when they were released, they went to their friends and reported what the chief priests and the elders had said to them. And when they heard it, they lifted their voices together to God and said, ‘Sovereign Lord, who made the heaven and the earth and the sea and everything in them, who through the mouth of our father David, your servant, said by the Holy Spirit, ‘Why did the Gentiles rage, and the peoples plot in vain? The kings of the earth set themselves, and the rulers were gathered together, against the Lord and against his Anointed’—for truly in this city there were gathered together against your holy servant Jesus, whom you anointed, both Herod and Pontius Pilate, along with the Gentiles and the peoples of Israel, to do whatever your hand and your plan had predestined to take place. And now, Lord, look upon their threats and grant to your servants to continue to speak your word with all boldness, while you stretch out your hand to heal, and signs and wonders are performed through the name of your holy servant Jesus.’ And when they had prayed, the place in which they were gathered together was shaken, and they were all filled with the Holy Spirit and continued to speak the word of God with boldness.”

Thanks be to God for his Word.

A brief prayer—an old Anglican prayer:

Father, what we know not, teach us. What we have not, give us. What we are not, make us. For your Son’s sake, we pray. Amen.

Simon Peter was by no stretch of the imagination a straight-A student in the school of the Lord Jesus Christ. It’s perhaps not fair of me to single him out for special attention, but quite frankly, he pretty well brings it upon himself. The rest of the group were not, I think, any better than himself, but he was masterful at immediate advances and then colossal reverses. His pilgrimage was a series of bursts of enthusiasm followed by chronic inertia. He was masterful, on the one hand, of getting questions right, like “Who do you say that I am?” and he said, “[Well,] you are the Christ, the Son of the living God.”[1] And as he was basking in the glow of having been successful in that class, he was then assigned to the dunce’s seat with the words of Jesus, “Get behind me, Satan! Because you do not have in mind the things of God but the things of men.”[2] Such a quick reversal! He’s a great encouragement to me as I think about not only my school days but also my Christian life.

And then, of course, he’s good at doing it in reverse, isn’t he? “You, Jesus, will never wash my feet.”

Jesus says, “Well, if I don’t wash you, you have no share in me.”

“Oh, then,” he says, “not just my feet but also my hands and my head.”[3]

“Jesus, you should know that if even everybody else bails out on you, including some of my friends here, you can count on me. I’ll be with you through thick and thin.”[4] And while he was warming himself at the fire, the rooster crowed, and his eyes met Jesus.[5]

Now, I begin there because it serves as a backdrop to the words that we have just had read for us in Acts chapter 2. Because it serves to show us how remarkable this transformation truly was in the life of Simon Peter and, indeed, of his colleagues. Because the promise of Jesus had been made clear to them, although it is obvious from reading the Gospels that the clarity of Christ’s words were not matched by the clarity of their own understanding. Jesus had to prepare them for the fact of his departure. They couldn’t understand why he who had been their teacher and their guide and their Lord and Master would be able to say that it was better for them if he went away.[6] And as they were trying to get their heads around that, Jesus is teaching them. “When the Spirit of truth comes,” he says to them, “he will guide you into all the truth.”[7]

And in that Upper Room Discourse, which is there in the heart of John’s Gospel, Jesus labors to make this very, very clear. Let me quote to you just another brief part of it: “But when the Helper comes”—he’s referring to the Holy Spirit—“whom I will send to you from the Father, the Spirit of truth, who proceeds from the Father, he will bear witness about me. And you also will bear witness, because you have been with me from the beginning.”[8] Jesus, in addressing his Father in his High Priestly Prayer, says, “Father, the only words that I had to speak were the words that you gave me. You gave me your words, and I spoke your words. Now those words that I spoke to the disciples they haven’t made much of a go of. Therefore, it is wonderful that we’ve already planned that the Holy Spirit should come and take the words that I have spoken to them, which they have not yet fully grasped, in order that when that truth dawns upon them, they may then be able to declare to the world the things that you have declared to me.”

And it is in that context, after the pouring out of the Holy Spirit on the Day of Pentecost, that the real manifestation of God’s intervention in this way is not so much in the revelation of various languages and tongues as it is in a remarkable sermon—that the Holy Spirit is poured out in fulfillment of the promise of Jesus, and here we have Peter himself declaring, with a masterful clarity and with a comprehensive grasp of the history of the dealings of God, the wonder of what has been done.

And at the very heart of that we find that in this first sermon, dealing with the person and work of Jesus, as Howard Marshall observes, we immediately confront “the paradox of divine predestination and human freewill in its strongest form.”[9] This is not something that is tucked away in some obscure passage of the Old Testament. Here we are in the very birth, as it were, of the expansion of the church. And at the very first sermon that is preached, this matter of the providence of God is now being worked out. And as it was read for us, you will notice the language and the verbs: “This Lord Jesus Christ,” he says in verse 23, “is delivered up for us.”[10] (I was looking for light, not for encouragement there, when I looked up. Although I could do with a little encouragement as well, but we’ll leave that for now.) “Men of Israel, hear these words: … as you yourselves know—this Jesus, delivered up according to the definite plan and foreknowledge of God, you crucified.”

Now, you have the exact same thing as we read it in Acts 4:28, as he quotes from the Old Testament and he says, “The fulfillment of this Old Testament psalm you have seen manifested among you in Herod, representing the kings, in Pontius Pilate, the rulers, and so on. And these things have unfolded,” he says, “as a result of them doing whatever your hand, Father, and your plan had predestined to take place.”

Now, if I may just belabor this one moment longer: Peter’s explanation in Acts 2, in his sermon, the believers’ affirmation upon their release from prison in Acts chapter 4 has to be understood in light of Jesus’ resurrection appearance and that masterful Bible study that we have provided for us in Luke chapter 24. I don’t know if it struck you in the same way as it struck me. I’m a simple soul when it comes to these things. But I often wondered why, in that great drama on the Emmaus Road, as you have this amazing irony unfolding as Jesus in his risen personhood walks alongside the two disconsolate disciples and basically says to them, “So how are you fellows doing?”

The Spirit of God brings the Word of God home to the people of God.

And they said, “Well, not so good.”

“Oh really?”

“Ah, yes.” And they say to Jesus, “Are you the only person that doesn’t know what has been happening in Jerusalem?”—which is one of the great ironic questions of all time.

And at that point, Jesus doesn’t go, “Hey, shazam! It’s me! It’s me! What are you talking about? Look!” Why doesn’t he do that? Well, of course, we’re not told why he doesn’t do it. But it would seem to me, with a moment’s reflection, that it is entirely purposeful that he turns his disciples to the Scriptures, for the confidence of heaven is in the Scriptures—that the Spirit of God brings the Word of God home to the people of God. And were it not for the fact that they were given this panoramic unfolding of the history of redemption, then they presumably would just have gone hastening back to their colleagues to say simply, “We saw him. We saw him. We saw him.” But they don’t say that. They say that their hearts were stirred and moved within them.[11] Their lives were transfixed as a result of the things that he unfolded to them from the Scriptures as he showed to them these things concerning himself. It’s lovely that that was taking place.

And indeed, Luke then goes on to tell us—and incidentally, I always feel a little sorry for these fellows when they go running back—“And they rose that same hour and returned to Jerusalem. And they found the eleven and those who were with them gathered together, [and they were] saying, ‘The Lord has risen indeed.’”[12] That’s kind of anti-climactic. They went flying back there in order that they could tell them that, but they actually knew the story. And “as they were talking about these things, Jesus himself stood among them, and said to them, ‘Peace to you!’ But they were startled and frightened and thought they saw a spirit.”[13]

You see, they’re not really making much progress to this point, are they? What a hopeless group! If you’re kind of disappointed with your elders, relax. Look at this! And he said to them, “What a miserable group you are. I should have got rid of you a long time ago.” No! He says, “Why are you troubled, and why do doubts arise in your hearts? See my hands and my feet, [this] is I myself. Touch me, and see. For a spirit does[n’t] have flesh and bones as you see that I have.”[14] This was a literal, physical resurrection from the dead. “If Christ be not risen, your faith is futile. Those who have died are dead and gone and buried and for good, and we have no basis upon which to preach a gospel to a world such as our own.”[15] It is at the very epicenter of it all.

“Look at me,” he says. “I am alive from the dead.” And having shown them that, he says, “And by the way, can we get something to eat around here?”[16] And “they gave him a piece of broiled fish, and he took it and ate [it] before them.” And “then he said to them”—here we go— ‘These are my words that I spoke to you while I was still with you.’”[17] In other words, “I don’t have a new story for you. This is what I was telling you all along. What was I telling you?” “‘That everything written about me in the Law of Moses and the Prophets and the Psalms must be fulfilled.’ Then”—Bible study again—

he opened their minds to understand the Scriptures, and said to them, “Thus it is written, that the Christ should suffer and on the third day rise from the dead, and that repentance [and] forgiveness of sins should be proclaimed in his name to all nations, beginning [with] Jerusalem. You are witnesses of these things. And behold, I am sending the promise of my Father upon you. But stay in the city until you are clothed with power from on high.” [Then] he led them out.[18]

Then and only then! For were they to go before then, they would have been as clueless as they had been in the earlier days. “Here,” he says, “is the explication of the purposes of my Father from all of eternity. And in a moment or two, the Holy Spirit will descend upon you. And when he comes, then all of these things—the pieces in the jigsaw puzzle that have somehow or another not seemed to fit together, even when you take the front and look at the picture on the front—when all of this comes together, then,” he says, “you will be able to speak and to preach as you should.”

And so, Peter, in the fulfillment of that, explains to the gathered crowd in Acts chapter 2, “I know some of you think that the bars have been open early and the people are completely plastered, but the fact of the matter is, this is nothing other than what the prophet said of old.” Where did he get that from? From Jesus. He should have known it in the first place, but there again, so should you, and so should I. How patient the Lord Jesus is with us, how kind and gracious to teach us again and again, to say, “Remember, remember, remember”!

And as I say to you, when he preaches—and this brings us, of course, to the reason for our topic this morning—he confronts us with the doctrine of providence in the life of Jesus, at the very center of the life of Jesus. When you have a difficult doctrine, or when one finds a doctrine difficult, one of the questions to ask to try and navigate our way to some semblance of understanding is to ask of this particular area of theology, “How does this, or how did this, play out in the life of Jesus?”—and because we can almost with certainty say if it doesn’t work in the life of Jesus when we consider it, then we must be thinking wrongly about it. Because ultimately, all the promises of God find their Yes and their Amen in the Lord Jesus Christ.[19] And therefore, we ought to expect that that would be the case.

Says Calvin in relationship to this, “We must not follow the lead of many clever types who, when they talk of God’s providence, engage in circumlocutions and in obscure and tedious speculations.” It’s even hard to pronounce most of that—thereby removing myself from any of the clever types. No. Calvin is saying that we must look to the Lord Jesus Christ, because, he says, in Jesus we find the true mirror in which to contemplate God’s providence. I found that a very helpful sentence when I discovered it. He said, “You know, Jesus is the true mirror by which we contemplate the providence of God.”

And so, lest I be guilty of that same circumlocution which Calvin warned us against, I want to tell you that I’m going to give you the outline of someone else’s sermon. If you do that, make sure it’s no one who’s alive. (And I have that covered.) And make sure if you do, that you mention it; otherwise, they’ll come and chase you down for plagiarism. And if you do that, make sure you choose somebody good. I think I probably am guilty, along with many of my colleagues, of dabbling a little with Charles Haddon Spurgeon. You know the old doggerel about Spurgeon:

There once was a preacher called Spurgy
Who really detested liturgy,
But his sermons are fine,
And I use them as mine,
And so do most of the clergy.

But I’m not going to preach someone else’s sermon, but I found this outline in Favel, where he says… (When you quote sources, that’s research, for goodness’ sake! You understand?) He says, quoting “a grave divine”[20]… He doesn’t identify the “grave divine.” He says, “I’m quoting a grave divine.” And then he’s just got these three little phrases. And when I found these phrases, I said, “That’s fine. That’s as good an outline as I could possibly come up with if I spent the rest of the life trying to figure it out.”

So, it’s from a Scotsman, I’m convinced. I think it is an outline from a sermon of John Knox. All right? This is an intelligent group; you can go figure it out for yourselves, and then send me an email and tell me you were right or you were wrong. But here’s the outline—providence in the death of Jesus. Number one: “In respect of God, Christ’s death was justice and mercy.” “In respect of God, Christ’s death was justice and mercy.”[21]

Through the death of Jesus, the purpose of God was being worked out.

Now, at this point, as Peter preaches on the Day of Pentecost, clearly Saul of Tarsus is still Saul of Tarsus. He’s not Paul the apostle. We don’t have his theological treatise in the book of Romans. Therefore, we have yet to await a more unfolded, extrapolated, explained doctrine of the atonement. We’re not at the point where, as Paul says in Romans chapter 4, that he was “delivered up for our trespasses and raised for our justification.”[22] Remember that in the Gospels, Jesus is revealed; in the Acts, he is preached; in the Epistles, he’s explained—so that by the time you get to the Epistles, you have the explanation of that which is described for us in the Gospels and which is preached in Acts. So Peter is preaching here in Acts, and he says that this event that has taken place here in the death of Jesus is on account of the fact that God delivered him up. And the terminology there is worthy of your further consideration. I leave it to you.

In other words, there is already on the part of Peter, as a result of the instruction of Jesus and the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, an understanding that through the death of Jesus, the purpose of God was being worked out—a purpose that is rooted in eternity, a purpose that was unfolding throughout the pages of the Old Testament.

And when you ponder that and you think in terms of Jesus giving this study to those who were listening, you have to wonder whether… As Luke says, he explained to them all the things in the Bible concerning himself.[23] It’s hard to imagine that he went through the entire Old Testament. He may have done, I suppose. And I often wonder: Where did he stop? You know, where were his points of emphasis? What did he use? When he went to Isaiah 53—surely he went to Isaiah 53: “Who ha[s] believed our report? and to whom is the arm of the Lord [been] revealed?”[24] But I wonder: Did he stop on verse 10? It would fit with this, wouldn’t it?

Yet it was the will of the Lord to crush him;
 he has put him to grief;
when his soul makes an offering for [sin].[25]

In respect to God, the providence that is revealed in the death of his Son is an expression of justice and of mercy.

What does that mean? Well, it means at least this: that Christ’s death was not something that was contrived in time in order to fix a defect in a theological system, but rather, it was that which was conceived from all of eternity. Theologians talk about the covenant of redemption, trying to peer, as it were, back into the eternal counsels of God and putting together the fragments of things in such a way as to be able to conclude that the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit entered into a covenant of redemption—that the Son was assigned a task to accomplish, and the Father would glorify him in return, so that when Jesus prays to his Father, again, in John 17, he prays exactly along those lines: “Father, the hour has come; glorify your Son that the Son may glorify you.”[26] Peter, by the time he writes his first letter, he is able to say, “He”—that is, Jesus—“was chosen before the [foundation] of the world, but was revealed in these last times for your sake.”[27]

It is this, you see, that allows Peter to use language that is so unequivocal. “This Jesus” is the one who has been in this position as a result of God’s “definite plan” and in relationship to his “foreknowledge.” There’s nothing vague again about that, is there? “You crucified and killed him, but he was delivered up according to the definite plan and the foreknowledge of God.” In the NIV, I think it is “the set purpose of God.”

Now, let us just note, then, that on the cross, the mercy and the justice of God are equally expressed. In the cross, the mercy of God and the justice of God are equally expressed. In the cross, God pardons those who believe in Christ even though they have sinned and deserve his condemnation. Without this, we would be banished from the presence of God forever. But it is also true that in the cross, he displays and satisfies his perfect justice by executing the punishment on sin that we, as sinners, deserve.

Again, classically stated at the end of 2 Corinthians 5: that he “who knew no sin” became sin for us “that in him we might become the righteousness of God”[28]—this amazing and great exchange which is at the heart of this strange providence whereby God is delivering up his Son.

Again, poets and hymn writers help us with this, don’t they?

How deep the Father’s love for us,
How vast beyond all measure,
That he should give his only Son
To make a wretch his treasure.
How [deep] the pain of searing loss—
The Father turns his face away,
As wounds which mar the Chosen One
Bring many sons to glory.[29]

Or, in an older hymn that begins, “Beneath the cross of Jesus I fain would take my stand,” and that amazing verse:

O safe and happy shelter!
O refuge tried and sweet!
O trysting place where heaven’s love
And heaven’s justice meet![30]

In relationship to God, an expression of his justice and his mercy.

Secondly: “In respect of man”—humanity, men and women—“in respect of man,” Christ’s death “was murder and cruelty.”[31] “In respect of God, …justice and mercy. In respect of man, … murder and cruelty.” That’s what he says.

And it is important for us to allow the Word of God to adjudicate on our thinking: “delivered up according to the definite plan and foreknowledge of God.” Well, that seems to take everybody off the hook, doesn’t it? Well, we can just relax now. “No,” he says. “You are culpable”: “You crucified and killed.” And it happened “by the hands of lawless men.” And the same is true again in chapter 4 and around verse 28, isn’t it, and as he identifies these individuals, “Herod and Pontius Pilate, … with the Gentiles and the peoples of Israel, to do whatever your hand and your plan had predestined to take place”? But it was at “your hand.” It was at “your hand.”

So, here we are at the mystery of it all, aren’t we? The fact that the primary cause of the death of Jesus lies in the definite plan of God—because that’s what it says—that does not relieve the instigators (the Jews) or the perpetrators (the Romans) of their violence and of their responsibility. This, of course, is the paradox, isn’t it? “The fore-knowledge and [the] counsel of God … did,” says Flavel, “no more compel or force their wicked hands to do what they did, than the mariner’s hoisting up his sails, to take the wind to serve his design,” as if somehow or another by doing so, he “compels the wind.”[32] He doesn’t compel the wind to do anything. He chooses to hoist up his sails, and the wind moves.

And here is the great mystery. It’s the mystery that we had in the unfolding story of Joseph, to which we alluded just briefly last night: that all of the badness, and the cruelty, and the animosity, and the spite, and the jealousy that was represented in being the mechanism, if you like, whereby Joseph ended up in such a privileged place… He eventually, in the great denouement with his brothers, says to them, classically, “You intended [this for evil], but God intended it for good.”[33] It’s paradoxical. And the exact same thing is here: that the purpose of man in the death of Jesus was cruelty and malice; the purpose of God in the death of Jesus was justice and mercy. Here we are: “You put him to death.” “We will not have this man to [rule] over us.”[34] And frankly, the deeper truth is that the whole of humanity participates in this responsibility. None of us is free from this.

And before I come to my final point by John Knox, let’s just pause and acknowledge something: that “the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing.”[35] I mean, we can sit in here today, and I don’t know where everybody is in their head or in their heart. God knows that. But frankly, the things that we’re affirming in these moments are, as I said last night, absolutely radical. They’re radical! The affirmations that we are seeking to make as we bow to the instruction of Scripture is that the very epicenter of the entire human existence is to be traced to the cross of Jesus Christ, a Galilean carpenter, dying in a miserable bit of real estate in a backwater province of the Middle East. Are you going to go out into the coffee shops and byways of Princeton and declare this, are you? Well, be prepared for people that say, “You’re a complete loony. You’ve absolutely lost your mind. I knew you weren’t that bright when I studied with you, and it’s very obvious to me now.”

No, you see, we’ll never get to this by way of investigation. The only way we get to this is by way of revelation. You see, there is an unseen boundary between ourselves and the living God. We cannot access God on our own time and on our own terms. He is beyond the scope of our “intuitive radar.”[36] We know enough about him as a Creator to be held accountable for the fact that we are as we are, but we do not know enough about him by creation to be saved and changed by him. For that, we need the Word of God, and we need the Son of God.

In terms of God, then, it is “justice and mercy.” In terms of man, it is “cruelty and murder.” And in terms of Jesus himself, it is “obedience and humility.”[37] You see why I say this was such a find? What a great find! Because it’s very clarifying, isn’t it? If you forget all of the sandwich in the middle—if you forget all of the tuna, as it were, that I’m putting in between these slices—then you can always remember the slices, and you will be fine.

It’s true, then, that the Father gave the Son, but it is equally true that the Son gave himself. He steps forward when they come for him in the garden. He says, “Are you looking for somebody? Maybe me? No, don’t do that, Peter, for goodness’ sake! How many times have I told you? Either you’re really good with that sword, or you’re really bad. If you were going for his head, that was hopeless. If you were going for his ear, that is remarkable. But you don’t need to do that. You don’t need to do that, because I could call twelve legions of angels, and we could take care of this thing in a moment.”[38]

No, no; the Father gave the Son, and the Son gave himself. Augustine said the cross is the pulpit from which God preached his love to the world.[39] “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that who[ever] believe[s] in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.”[40]

“My Lord,” writes Graham Kendrick,

My Lord, what love is this
That pays so dearly
That I, the guilty one,
May go free?[41]

Ian Murray, who’s a friend to many of us here at this conference, in a little book that he did on Augustine, which was entitled The Pulpit of God’s Love, I think—something along those lines—he says in that, “The men that sweeten the church the most are those taken with, captivated by, carried away by God’s love for sinners.”

The Father gave the Son, but it is equally true that the Son gave himself.

Are you captivated by, carried away by, captured by, constrained by the love of God for sinners? It’s very possible that a conference like this—that has some measure of at least supposed theological erudition to it, that delves into some of the mysteries of God vis-à-vis providence—for us simply to be notetakers, affirmers, realigning ourselves to make sure that we fit within the bounds of historic evangelical orthodoxy, and walking down the street, and forgetting that the one under whose banner we march was the Good Shepherd who lays down his life for the sheep.[42] No, you see, this is the real test, isn’t it?

John Murray, in conversation with William Mackenzie, the publisher in the north of Scotland, years ago, driving in the car, engaged in a little playful theological banter. Murray, the professor from Westminster, says to William Mackenzie, the publisher from the Highlands—he says, “William, what is the difference between a lecture and preaching?” And as they drove in the car, Mackenzie tried his best to come up with a decent answer and failed miserably, according to the professor. He gave him zero in his test.

And looking out of his one good eye, quizzically, as they drove in the car, he said to him, “No, you don’t have it, William. Let me tell you what it is.”

So Mackenzie said, “Well then, what is it?”

And Murray says, “Preaching is a personal, passionate plea.”

Mackenzie says, “In what sense?”

Says Murray, “In the Pauline sense: ‘We beseech you on Christ’s behalf: be reconciled to God.’”[43]

And where is that reconciliation provided? In the cross. And from where is that reconciliation to be proclaimed? From the pulpits of God’s church. And where is that reconciliation to be modeled and displayed? Among the community of God’s people.

You see, the real impact of the Bible, the primary aim of preaching the Bible—whether it is on preaching this topic or any other topic—is not in order that you or I may have a little bit of information about this theological framework or about this passage of Scripture and then, at the end of it, three practical points of application so when you go home you can talk about it over lunch. That’s all well and good, but that’s not the primary aim. The primary aim in teaching the Bible is that we might have a life-shaping, life-changing encounter with God—that ultimately, Jesus Christ is the preacher. He preaches through his Word. It is to him we are to listen—he who gave himself up freely for us all[44] in this amazing and strange, mysterious event. So, persuading men of the love of God, says Ian, is the great calling of Christian ministry.

Well, I spoke too long last night, so I speak shorter now, as an encouragement to you—and merely to reinforce, in saying all of this, that we bow before the mystery of the cross. You see, one of the problems for some of us (especially the theological eggheads) is that we think we’re going to do a better job than we could ever do—you know, that Deuteronomy 29:29 is in there for everybody else except us, you know? “[There are] secret things [that] belong to the Lord our God.” “There’s things that have been revealed, which most people know, but I know the secret things.” Well, I got news for you: No, you don’t. And therefore, to bow before the mystery is right.

’Tis mystery all: the Immortal dies:
Who can explore [this] strange design?
In vain the firstborn seraph tries
To sound the depths of love divine. …

Amazing love! How can it be,
That thou, my God, [would] die for me?[45]

I take courage in the fact that truths that look contradictory to us are not contradictory in the light of heaven and that it is not the preacher’s responsibility to explain the unexplainable. What a relief! What a great relief!

Let us pray:

O God our Father, we put our toe, as it were, in the waters of the vastness of your eternal counsels and purposes. How could we, as puny men, somehow or another search out the mind of God? We would know nothing of you had you not chosen to disclose yourself. I could have stood here for thirty minutes and said nothing, and nobody would have known whether anything was going on in my head or nothing, but only as my voice is heard is there some indication of cognitive understanding and reason. You have breathed out your Word to us in the Scriptures. We search the Scriptures in order that in them we might find life—life in the Lord Jesus Christ, life by his death, healing by his suffering, restoration by his brokenness, forgiveness on account of his being forsaken.

So help us as we proceed in the day. Save us, Lord, from just idle speculation. We want to know you. We want to know you in a manner of intimacy that allows us, by the Holy Spirit and in the pages of your Word, to be able to speak and to live our lives, in an environment that is increasingly confused and unsure of itself, in a way that commends this wonderful love—that you, the Father, in dealing with your Son in this way, deal in justice and in mercy; that we, in our rebellious hearts, deal in murder and in cruelty; and Lord Jesus Christ, you, in your self-sacrificing love, deal in obedience and in humility.

Hear our prayers, O God. Meet us where we are today. You’re the only one that can soften a hard heart. You are the only one that can open blind eyes. Hear our prayers, and let our cry come unto you. For Jesus’ sake. Amen.

[1] Matthew 16:15–16 (ESV).

[2] Matthew 16:23 (paraphrased).

[3] John 13:8–9 (paraphrased).

[4] See Matthew 26:33; Mark 14:29.

[5] See Luke 22:55, 60–61.

[6] See John 16:7.

[7] John 16:13 (ESV).

[8] John 15:26–27 (ESV).

[9] Howard I. Marshall, The Acts of the Apostles, The Tyndale New Testament Commentaries (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1980), 75.

[10] Acts 2:23 (paraphrased).

[11] See Luke 24:32.

[12] Luke 24:33–34 (ESV).

[13] Luke 24:36–37 (ESV).

[14] Luke 24:38–39 (ESV).

[15] 1 Corinthians 15:17–19 (paraphrased).

[16] Luke 24:41 (paraphrased).

[17] Luke 24:42–44 (ESV).

[18] Luke 24:44–50 (ESV).

[19] See 2 Corinthians 1:20.

[20] “Of the Nature and Quality of Christ’s Death,” sermon 26 in The Fountain of Life, in The Whole Works of the Rev. Mr. John Flavel (London: W. Baynes, 1820), 1:321.

[21] Flavel, 1:321.

[22] Romans 4:25 (ESV).

[23] See Luke 24:27.

[24] Isaiah 53:1 (KJV).

[25] Isaiah 53:10 (ESV).

[26] John 17:1 (ESV).

[27] 1 Peter 1:20 (NIV).

[28] 2 Corinthians 5:21 (ESV).

[29] Stuart Townend, “How Deep the Father’s Love” (1995).

[30] Elizabeth Cecilia Clephane, “Beneath the Cross of Jesus” (1868).

[31] Flavel, “Nature and Quality,” 1:321.

[32] Flavel, 1:321.

[33] Genesis 50:20 (NIV).

[34] Luke 19:14 (KJV).

[35] 1 Corinthians 1:18 (NIV).

[36] David F. Wells,What Is the Trinity?(Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R, 2012), 11.

[37] Flavel, 1:321.

[38] Matthew 26:52–53 (paraphrased).

[39] Augustine, quoted in Thomas Watson, A Body of Divinity (1962; repr., Edinburgh: Banner of Truth, 2015), 175.

[40] John 3:16 (KJV).

[41] Graham Kendrick, “Amazing Love” (1990).

[42] See John 10:11.

[43] 2 Corinthians 5:20 (paraphrased).

[44] See Romans 8:32.

[45] Charles Wesley, “And Can It Be That I Should Gain?” (1738).