John 18:10-11 “Then Simon Peter, who had a sword, drew it and struck the high priest’s servant, cutting off his right ear. (The servant’s name was Malchus.) Jesus commanded Peter, ‘Put your sword away! Shall I not drink the cup the Father has given me?’”

To understand Peter better, approach this episode a little like a question on Jeopardy. “If the death of God’s Son on the cross is the answer, then what is the question?” Or put it this way: “If Jesus’ death on the cross is the solution, then what is the problem?”

If my salvation required God to leave heaven, become a human being, subject himself to his own rules, keep them all perfectly, then permit himself to be unjustly arrested and condemned, submit to beatings and tortures that would have killed many, be nailed to cross and hung there to die, and be forsaken by God the Father (essentially the experience of hell), then my sins are not a minor, insignificant bending of God’s rules. They must be unspeakably evil, dangerous far beyond my poor ability to measure or understand. My condition must be dead and lost far beyond my powers to help. If Jesus had to do all that, what do I think I am going to add?

It’s a little like chemotherapy. When the solution is to pump a body full of hundreds of thousands of dollars’ worth of deadly poisons for months or years, the threat isn’t just about feeling a little sick. This problem isn’t going to be solved with just a slight adjustment to diet and exercise. Similarly, my sins put me beyond all normal expectation of help or survival. Only God’s own miraculous intervention can save me.

Jesus cross, and the horror that he suffered there, teaches us this. The solution helps us see the full extent of the problem. But that was just Peter’s problem. He didn’t want to see it. He didn’t want to believe it. He had big plans for that first class cabin on the promenade deck. Jesus’ cross took them all away. The first time Jesus openly mentioned his cross to the disciples, Peter pulled him aside and contradicted him in the strongest terms. You remember: “Never, Lord. This shall never happen to you.” And Jesus replied, “Get behind me Satan. You are a stumbling block to me. You do not have in mind the things of God but the things of men.” Here, when the plan is finally going into effect, Peter has drawn his sword and will fight to prevent it from happening.

Like Peter, we need to stop fighting God’s plan. Like Peter, we need to let Jesus drink the cup the Father has given him (as if we could prevent it, anyway). Like Peter, we need to learn to stop struggling with the cross and let Jesus lead us to accept all that it means for us. The cross may mean that I am sinner who cannot save himself, but it also means forgiveness for every sin and a place as God’s holy child. The cross may mean that all my life and accomplishments in this world are going to come to nothing. But it also offers escape to a new life in a new world infinitely better than the one we are leaving behind.

Sometimes children fight the very things that save them–the shot with the antibiotic their bodies need, the seat belt that makes it possible to survive an accident. Sometimes even God’s children have resisted the very thing that saves them–the cross, and all that means for our sin and for our world. Stop struggling. Let the cross do its work. Life is waiting on the other side.

Revelation 1:16 “In his right hand he held seven stars, and out of his mouth came a sharp double-edged sword. His face was like the sun shining in all its brilliance.”

We are not left to wonder about the identity of these stars in Jesus’ hand. Verse 20 tells us, “The seven stars are the angels of the seven churches.” These aren’t some kind of guardian angels for these churches. The word angel literally means “messenger.” These are the men who deliver Jesus’ message to the churches. We commonly refer to them as pastors.

Jesus holds his pastors in his right hand. That’s a thought that could fill a man with a sense of holy awe and fear. You want to be careful that when you claim you are speaking for him, you are actually speaking for him. One of my best friends in college was the son of the pastor at Redemption Lutheran Church in Milwaukee, WI. One of the things that always struck me about their sanctuary was the cross suspended from the ceiling by a chain. It hung directly over the pulpit. It seemed to me that you would want to be particularly careful about what you said while you were standing in that pulpit. That cross provided the Lord a convenient way to show his displeasure if the preacher dared to preach something false.

We don’t need something hanging over our heads to remind us to be careful with the message. Jesus holds not just pastors, but all of us, in his hand at all times. His hand can close in judgment at any time.

I don’t think that is the main thing he wants us to think about here, however. If Jesus holds those who serve him in his hand, who is going to take them away from him? If Jesus holds you in his hand, who can hurt you in the end? Even if an angry mob with pitchforks and torches should attack and make this your last day on earth, “what can man do to me?” Jesus makes the promise to all of his sheep: “No one can snatch them out of my hands.”

One last thought on Jesus holding us in his hand. I don’t know whether Jesus was right handed or left handed, but the many Bible references to the right hand, like the one here, suggest that Jesus is speaking about the skilled hand as well as his powerful hand. This is the hand with which most people do their most work.

Jesus makes the people he holds in his right hand his chosen instruments. You are his tool to reach out to others and save them. We all understand that only Jesus is the sacrifice for our sins. Only his word, his gospel, is the power of God for the salvation of everyone who believes.

But faith comes from hearing the message, right? Pick up the Sword of the Spirit, and start swinging. Speak the gospel. You yourself are in Jesus’ hand. That’s not just a safe place to be. It is a useful one.

1 Samuel 17:48-50 “As the Philistine moved closer to attack him, David ran quickly toward the battle line to meet him. Reaching into his bag and taking out a stone, he slung it and struck the Philistine on the forehead. The stone sank into his forehead, and he fell facedown on the ground. So David triumphed over the Philistine with a sling and a stone; without a sword in his hand he struck down the Philistine and killed him.”

There is a time for the child of God to retreat when under attack. When the kinds of temptations that appeal to the lusts of our own sinful natures are luring us, especially sexual sins, God’s word to us is “Flee!” Nothing in Scripture suggests that we should engage the temptation to see how long we can hang in there before we finally give in. That would be foolish, not faithful.

But David was facing an entirely different situation here. The Giant Goliath had insulted God. He had called into question God’s power and grace. God’s reputation as the Deliverer of his people was at stake. And when God’s reputation suffers, so does the faith of his people.

The real issue was not the physical battle between an impetuous teenager and a godless Giant. It was the spiritual attack on the hearts of God’s children. There was an entire army standing behind David. But their faith had been compromised by Goliath’s size and threats. That’s why they were behind David, not out there meeting the challenge themselves. That meant that more than lives were at stake this day. Their very souls were in danger.

For that kind of battle, you can’t get started fast enough. David ran to meet the giant. There is an appropriate sense of urgency for us to get going, to engage our spiritual battle with the world for the hearts of neighbors who don’t know Jesus or church members who are losing their grip on him. For this the signal is never “Flee!” but “Charge!” when we are acting on faith, not fear.

Doesn’t David’s story make you want to do something? Doesn’t it make you want to act? Let me share with you a little story told by a pastor at a youth conference: “My kids have “Dave and the Giant Pickle,” (The Veggie Tales version of this story) and after they watched it a few times, I watched it with them and I thought, ‘That’s enough.; And so we read this whole narrative and my little son Johnny, he’s four years old, and he says, ‘Dad, he killed him all the way dead, didn’t he?’ I said, ‘Yeah, he did.’ He says, ‘He chopped his head off with a sword, didn’t he?’ I said, ‘Yes, he did.’”

“I have a sword in my office. It’s an unsharpened sword. We came in the next Sunday morning and I was out making copies—Johnny was in my office—and I could hear—it makes a certain sound—a “shing” when it comes out of the sheath, and he pulled it—and he comes out in the office and he’s almost in tears, and John says…it never dawned on me that he didn’t think Goliaths were still around today.  He says, ‘Dad,’—he’s almost in tears and he’s dead serious and he says, ‘If Goliath comes in this office, I will chop his head off.’” “I’m on your team, that’s where I am.”

That’s the power of God’s word in the heart of a young man, the power and faith that makes him ready to act. The battles God gives us to fight for him today may be spiritual, not physical. We fight with words, not swords. But his word gives us the faith to engage the battle, and trust him for victory in the end.

1 Samuel 17:45-46 “David said to the Philistine, “You come against me with sword and spear and javelin, but I come against you in the name of the Lord Almighty, the God of the armies of Israel, whom you have defied. This day the Lord will hand you over to me, and I’ll strike you down and cut off your head. Today I will give the carcasses of the Philistine army to the birds of the air and the beasts of the earth, and the whole world will know that there is a God in Israel.”

David was absolutely convinced of the reality and power of our God. The God of the armies of Israel was the one who destroyed the chariots of Egypt and brought down the walls of Jericho. In both cases, Israel did not have to fire a single shot or swing a single sword. This was the God who allowed just 300 Jewish soldiers under Gideon to defeat a Midianite army of over 100,000. This God, who could flick Goliath away like an irritating fly, was as real and as present for David as a person sitting next to you at this moment.

Here we have our Christ window into this Old Testament account. Here we see our Savior, because the God of the armies of Israel is the same God whose love and power have delivered us in way that makes all of this look tiny. Our hero and champion Jesus is this same God of the armies of Israel. He has defeated the devil and all his demons. He canceled every one of our sins and destroyed death itself. We didn’t even have to lift even a finger in that fight.

He did it all for us by giving up his own life at the cross, then taking it back again in his resurrection from the dead. This same Jesus is present with us every time we take the sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God (Ephesians 6:17), out of its sheath and use it today. Confronting sin and overcoming unbelief is not about our power. It’s not about our cleverness, our persuasive arguments, or skills in debate. It is about the power of Jesus Christ working in his word. He says this word “will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.”

With this gracious, saving God on our side David was completely confident of victory. And we should be just as confident for our battles with God’s enemies, too.

That’s not to say that our success will always look like David’s on the outside. The early Christians were often forced to defy the Roman empire of their day in order to remain loyal to Christ. In thousands of cases that meant beatings, torture, and even death. Did that mean failure and defeat? Even when their bodies were lying lifeless on the sands of the arena, their souls were living and reigning with Christ in heaven. Beyond a personal victory over the powers of this world, their example of faithfulness in the face of death inspired many more to hear the gospel, know Jesus as their Savior, and spread his love to others.

It has often been said, “the blood of the martyrs was the seed of the church.” The more Christians died, the more the gospel got out, and the more the Church was winning. These early Christians were courageous, not cowards. They believed the truth, not the world’s brash claims. God give us the faith to be as courageous and loyal as they were.

1 Samuel 17:42-44 “He (Goliath) looked David over and saw that he was only a boy, ruddy and handsome, and he despised him. He said to David, ‘Am I a dog, that you come at me with sticks?’ And the Philistine cursed David by his gods. ‘Come here,” he said, ‘and I’ll give your flesh to the birds of the air and the beasts of the field!’”

Trash talk is not a phenomenon that began with late 20^th Century sports. This kind of psychological warfare goes back at least 3000 years. Goliath used it against David. Right away the giant went to work trying to destroy David’s courage.

First, he attacked David’s person. He despised the young man. Goliath seemed offended that the Israelites would send a teenager to fight him. His words and body language said, “You are an inadequate little wimp.”

Some still use that kind of trash talk against those fighting on God’s side. Many years ago a pastor was attending a conference where an agnostic professor was speaking. After the speech the pastor questioned the speaker about something unbiblical he had said. The professors just dismissed him by saying, “Oh, you’re from one of those churches where they have no scholars.” He was saying, “Intellectually, you are an inadequate little wimp. You can’t win this argument with me.” The same thing is going on when you stand up for the truth and others call you a “fundamentalist,” “Bible-thumper,” or “dinosaur.” “You’re too stupid to figure this out,” they imply.

Second, he mocked David’s weapons. “Am I a dog, that you come at me with sticks?” David had nothing more than his slingshot, a little bag of stones, and a staff in his hand. They didn’t look like much use against a giant whose spearhead alone weighed 15 pounds, not to mention his sword, shield, and armor. “You don’t have the tools, the weapons, to beat me.”

Do our weapons for fighting God’s battles look even weaker? We have nothing more than a message about God’s love, a ritual involving words and water, a little taste of bread and wine mixed with a promise of Jesus’ forgiving presence. They look harmless compared to the money, the fun and excitement, the reasonable sounding arguments, and sometimes the raw power and influence of those who find Christianity old-fashioned, restrictive, unscientific, or too boring to take seriously.

Sometimes we even begin to believe the trash talk. We doubt whether word and sacrament are enough. Then we reach for gimmicks or lose courage. We begin to fold, because we don’t think we have the tools, the weapons, or the resources to win.

So are we just going to let the giant win? Should David have resigned himself to the conclusion that Goliath was going to feed him to the birds that day? Should we accept that we are going to lose the next generation to the world and the false teachers, that we can’t compete with worldly pleasures for the hearts of our neighbors, that we are too small and too poor and too outgunned to make a difference in a culture that seems bent on overturning everything that is good and true and godly?

Or are we going to stand and fight? Our weapons don’t look impressive, but we wield divine power when we use them. The gospel is enough to protect ourselves and drive back the enemies of biblical faith in every era.

Mark 1:32-34 “That evening after sunset the people brought to Jesus all the sick and demon-possessed. The whole town gathered at the door, and Jesus healed many who had various diseases. He also drove out many demons, but he would not let the demons speak because they knew who he was.”

The whole town showed up. If they came, Jesus healed them. He didn’t limit himself to standard office hours, though he had already put in a full day. As long as people kept coming, he kept serving. Take note the next time you wonder if you are good enough to come to him, or if you have come too often, or if you can come right now. If you come, he serves you. He wants you to know that about him.

In fact, he had a grave concern that the people who were coming to him would know him truly. It may seem strange to us at first that he would not let the demons speak when he threw them out. “They knew who he was,” Mark tells us. Apparently they were trying to identify him on their way out. But Jesus wouldn’t let them do it. He wanted people to know who he was, but not this way.

I don’t think it is hard to understand why. Later in his ministry Jesus called the devil the father of lies. The very first temptation into the very first sin that plunged the human race into death and hell was all about lies and half-truths. He isn’t a reliable witness.

About 10 years ago Jim Carey was in a movie called Liar, Liar. He is a lawyer, and his son makes a wish that, for a whole day, his dad can’t tell any lies. The wish comes true. In many scenes telling the truth gets him into trouble. But in one scene in which he is asked what he thinks of his colleagues, his past lying leads everyone to think he is merely being funny when he tells them what he thinks.

Maybe you have heard of “paltering.” It is telling the truth in order to deceive. Salespeople do it. Politicians do it. You carefully choose the truths you express to give someone the wrong impression. A potential client asks you, “Do you think your sales will grow next year?” You answer, “Our sales have grown consistently the last ten years.” It may be true, but it hides the fact you do not expect growth in the year to come.

So the devils are clever. They couldn’t resist Jesus power to throw them out. They knew that this would lead people to believe his power came from God. But they also knew anything they said would be questioned by the people. So they tell the truth, or at least they try to, in order to deceive. Their well-known reputation for lying would help to cast a cloud of doubt over Jesus true identity.

That’s why Jesus won’t let them speak for them. He doesn’t want their witness. He lets his power and love do all the talking so that we can know him as God and Savior.

Mark 1:29-31 “As soon as they left the synagogue, they went with James and John to the home of Simon and Andrew. Simon’s mother-in-law was in bed with a fever, and they told Jesus about her. So he went to her, took her hand and helped her up. The fever left her and she began to wait on them.”

This was far from the most dramatic miracle Jesus ever performed. Nothing indicates that Simon’s mother-in-law was at death’s door-step. She was in bed at home with a fever. Maybe she had the seasonal flu. Maybe her body would have fought it off in a few days. But Jesus did what no Theraflu, Tylenol, or chicken soup could do: he dispatched the fever immediately. He helped her up, and it was gone. His power makes him Lord even of seasonal upper respiratory infections.

Good thing these four disciples had thought to say something to Jesus about the woman. It helped that they had just witnessed his quick and decisive removal of a demon from a man at the local synagogue. They had every reason to believe he had the power to remedy this woman’s fever. More than that, they had the faith to believe his love would move him to act.

They say that there are no atheists in fox holes. When bullets are whizzing past your ears, or grenades are being lobbed in your direction, people suddenly find religion. They beg God to spare their lives. But what about the less urgent crisis, the less deadly discomfort, the hundreds of irritations and inconveniences that plague our lives each year? Those who don’t know Jesus have an excuse to think that maybe these don’t merit the Almighty’s attention.

But we have more than Peter, Andrew, James and John’s fresh evidence of Jesus’ power to help, more than a recent example of his mercy born of love. We have the whole history of his miraculous interventions to bring relief from hunger, storms, diseases, devils, and even death. We know that love took him to the cross as our substitute, and led him to die for our sins.

In logic there is something called an argument a fortiori, from the greater to the lesser. It is legitimate to apply it here. The disciples concluded that if Jesus could defeat a demon, he could lick a fever, too. If he can do the greater, he can do the lesser. Jesus invites us to believe that if he could work all the wonders he did during his ministry, if he loved us all the way to torture and death in payment for our sins, then we can come to him with the little things as well. It may be that, for reasons unknown to us, we need our aches and pains to continue, so God leaves them alone. But he wants us to be certain he is in control. He acts in love, and to live in such a relationship with him means we can seek him even for the coughs and sniffles, the bumps and bruises that trouble us along life’s way.

When his power and love do bring us relief and strength, there is a response he seeks. “The fever left her and she began to wait on them.” Don’t misunderstand. This was not a condition for helping her. There was no bargain between Jesus and Simon’s mother-in-law before he removed her fever. He did not obligate her to get up and wait on these men. He was not a chauvinistic male expecting the woman to do the women’s work.

No, her service was an unsolicited “Thank-you.” Jesus’ powerful act of love made it possible for her to serve this way. It inspired her to serve this way. That’s how Christian service works. That’s what Jesus intends. Love begets love.

Have you ever noticed that so often it is the new Christians who are so eager to give their time and energy to God’s work? A couple I once served barely completed my Bible Information Class, and they were volunteering for everything. He became the maintenance chairman on the church council. She poured herself into our Christian school, proposing new programs, even teaching new courses. No one ever told them, “You have to do this.” But fresh with assurance of Jesus’ love on the cross and power in his resurrection from the dead, they were new people. It made it possible for them to serve this way. It inspired them to serve this way.

Jesus comes with power and love so that we can serve him this way, too–just like Simon’s mother-in-law.

Hebrews 3:3-6 “Jesus has been found worthy of greater honor than Moses, just as the builder of a house has greater honor than the house itself. For every house is built by someone, but God is the builder of everything. Moses was faithful as a servant in all God’s house, testifying to what would be said in the future. But Christ is faithful as a son over God’s house. And we are his house, if we hold on to our courage and the hope of which we boast.”

The Lord has different metaphors to describe the relationship we have with him and each other. We are the flock, and he is our Shepherd. We are the family, and he is our Father. We are a body with its many parts, and Christ is the head. We are his nation, and Christ is our king.

Here the picture is of a house. Not all the parts of my house serve the same function. Some are more structural and some are more cosmetic. Some make the house sturdy. Others make it comfortable. Some parts are very visible, while others are hidden behind the walls–the plumbing, wiring, and such.

In God’s house, Moses was like a great support beam preventing a major portion from collapse. The Lord used Moses to preserve his plan to save the world. He saved the family that would give birth to the Savior from extinction. He led God’s people to the land where all God’s promises were to be kept. Moses wasn’t perfect, but he was faithful and deserving of the honored place he has in story of God’s people.

Still, Moses was one of those people himself. “Moses was faithful as a servant in all God’s house.” Jesus is the architect and the builder. “Christ is faithful as a son over God’s house.” Take away Moses and you have a house in need of repair. Take away Jesus and you have no house at all.

For the people to whom this letter was originally written, Moses was a consensus candidate for the Hebrew Hall of Fame. Everyone agreed his name belonged next to greats like Abraham, David, and Elijah, maybe even at the top of that list. His story should be told, his deeds recited, his memory passed on to the next generation.

But if that was true, Jesus deserved even more attention and honor, because Jesus and his mission were greater still. Without Jesus saving the world from sin and death, Moses’ work didn’t much matter.

For you and me, the question isn’t likely, “Who is greater, Moses or Jesus?” For us, it is hundreds of lesser lights, like the founding fathers of our nation, or some recent political superstar. We make idols out of athletes and entertainers, but a hundred years from now the music of Elvis, Michael Jackson, or Taylor Swift will seem quaint if it is remembered by anyone at all. Patrick Mahomes or LeBron James won’t be footnotes in a history book, and no one may even know what football or basketball are.

But Jesus will still be the one whose birthday is celebrated even by the people who don’t like him. The years will still be numbered by whether they took place before or after he was born. His faith will likely claim more followers in more places around the world than any other (and if you add those in heaven it will blow the rest away). He will still be the world’s only Redeemer from sin, and when the last day comes, he, and no other, will sit on the throne and judge the world for its deeds.

By faith, we are the house Jesus built, the house he owns and keeps. Give the owner his due.

Hebrews 3:1 “Fix your thoughts on Jesus, the apostle and high priest we confess.”

Later chapters of this letter to the Hebrews describe Jesus’ high priestly work in detail. Ordinarily, so long as you didn’t mind butchering animals for sacrifice, the position of high priest was highly desirable. People waged political campaigns and paid money to secure the position. You were a highly respected member of society. You were a powerful national leader. You were part of a religious tradition over a thousand years old and had access to parts of the temple where no one else could go.

But ordinarily, you weren’t asked to become one of the sacrifices you offered. You weren’t expected to die for the people you served. That was part of Jesus’ mission from the beginning. He came knowing full well it would cost him his life.

There are other religious leaders in history who were put to death for what they believed and taught. But none of them volunteered. It was not part of the plan from the beginning. Jesus came with the full knowledge he would die a violent death at the hands of the people he came to save.

More than that, he embraced that death as the substitute for the world that rejected him. He accepted that justice would be served on him for crimes and sins others had committed. Jesus knew that he was dying for you, and for me. He was faithful to that mission.

Are you paying attention? What’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for you? What is the biggest sacrifice anyone has ever made for you? My father, a manager at a small midwestern company, worked a second job selling suits at JCPenny for twenty years so that I could attend a private Christian high school and college. As a nation we get regular reminders of the sacrifices our soldiers have made, sometimes giving up a limb, or even a life, so that we could be safe and enjoy our freedoms.

Thinking about such things isn’t supposed to put us on a guilt trip and manipulate us into a certain kind of behavior. But it does have the effect of nurturing our affection for family and country, bonding us more closely to those who have served and loved us.

No sacrifice or service comes close to matching what Jesus gave. Fix your thoughts on his faithful love, and see if you don’t find yourself closer to him day by day.