Outlive Your Life_ You Were Made to Make a Difference - Max Lucado [25]
Or perhaps you indwell a society of religious freedom but a community of spiritual oppression. You may not face blades and terrorists but critics and accusers. Family members mock your beliefs. University professors belittle your convictions. Classmates snicker at your choices. Colleagues pressure you to compromise your integrity. Coworkers make it their mission to snag you in a weak moment. Knife to your neck? No. But pressure to abandon your convictions?
I’m thinking of Maria Dutton, my Portuguese teacher when I was a missionary in Brazil. She grew up in an aristocratic and influential family. When she became a Christian, her father disowned her. He didn’t attend her wedding or see her at holidays. For several years he had nothing to do with her or her children.
Heidi is the only believer on the high school cheerleading squad. When the others go wild after games, she goes home. When they party on road trips, she goes to the hotel. She is the piñata for their ridicule.
Persecution happens. Peter and John can tell you. They healed the cripple one minute and faced harassment the next. “Now as they [Peter and John] spoke to the people, the priests, the captain of the temple, and the Sadducees came upon them, being greatly disturbed that they taught the people and preached in Jesus the resurrection from the dead” (Acts 4:1–2).
Thus far the early church had enjoyed smooth sailing. The Pentecost miracle harvested three thousand followers. The church gave birth to acts of kindness, compassion, and fellowship. Their good deeds authenticated their good news. The number of followers grew. The first three chapters of Acts are happy days. But then comes Acts 4. The church is barely out of the maternity ward, and in walk the town bullies: “the priests, the captain of the temple, and the Sadducees came upon them” (v. 1).
A brawny soldier presses through the crowd. He wears heavy ringlets of shoulder-length hair. His naked chest bulges, and his massive legs seem to be poured iron. A medallion of authority hangs on his chest, and he carries a whip in his hand. He can, by law, arrest anyone who transgresses the temple courts. He has come to enforce the law.
The priests follow him: Caiaphas and his father-in-law, Annas. They stand on either side of the temple captain and cross their arms and glare this implicit warning: “Don’t forget what we did to your Messiah. Didn’t the three spikes on the Roman cross make it clear?”
Annas, the high priest, arches an eyebrow in the direction of Peter. He has not forgotten what this apostle did to his servant a few weeks ago in the Garden of Gethsemane. When the servant and the soldiers came to arrest Jesus, Peter drew his sword and “struck the high priest’s servant, and cut off his right ear” (John 18:10). Jesus healed the ear, but the high priest has not forgotten the incident. I’m envisioning Annas tugging his ear and menacing, “I have a score to settle with you, Peter.”
Peter, meanwhile, may be wrestling with a few Thursday night memories of his own. Not just about his slashing sword, but also his dashing feet. He and the other followers scooted out of the garden like scalded puppies, leaving Jesus to face his foes all alone. Later that night Peter mustered up enough loyalty to appear at Jesus’ trial. But when people recognized him, Peter wilted again. He denied his Savior, not once, but three times.
So far the score is Persecution–2, Peter–0. Peter has failed every test of persecution. But he won’t fail this one.
The trio stands firm. If their legs tremble, it’s because the beggar just learned to stand and the apostles are choosing not to run.
Peter, filled with the Holy Spirit, said to them, “Rulers of the people and elders of Israel: If we this day are judged for a good deed done to a helpless man, by what means he has been made well, let it be known to you all, and to all the