Palm Springs Drive Church of Christ

Palm Springs Drive Church of Christ

By Palm Springs Drive church of Christ Altamonte Springs FloridaReligion & Spirituality
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Palm Springs Drive Church of Christ episodes

  • The Dawning of Darkness

    Series: N/A

    Service: Lord’s Supper Service

    Type: Lord's Supper Talk

    Speaker: Dwayne Gandy

    The Dawning of Darkness

    As Peter left the courtyard weeping bitterly, John remained inside. Jesus was still being questioned in one of the side rooms. And then the sun began to come up. A new day was dawning—but it was not just any new day. Evil was about to dawn with it. This would be the worst day in all of human history.

    As the sun rose, remember that this was the same sun Jesus had created. The Bible tells us that all things were made by Him and through Him and for Him, and nothing was made that was not made by Jesus, and all things consist by His power. The sun that now illuminated the courtyard was His own handiwork, rising on the morning of His condemnation.

    With the daylight, other members of the Sanhedrin who had been sleeping through the night began arriving at the high priest’s courtyard. What had happened during the night was illegal—it took place in darkness and without the full assembly. There were about seventy or seventy-one members of the Sanhedrin, and now new faces started showing up, relieving those who had been there all night. Perhaps the torches along the corridors were put out as daylight made them unnecessary. The fire in the courtyard was probably still smoldering. These fresh arrivals gave the proceedings new energy to finish what had been started.

    Once the full Sanhedrin assembled, they had to reach an official verdict. They asked Jesus directly: “Are you the Christ, the Son of the Blessed?” Jesus answered, “If I tell you, you will not believe me. And if I ask you a question, you will not answer. Nevertheless, you will see the Son of Man sitting at the right hand of the mighty God.” The room must have been stunned. They pressed Him again: “Are you saying that you are the Son of God?” His answer: “It is exactly as you said.” That was all they needed. “What need do we have of witnesses? We have heard it ourselves.”

    They voted. Their system did not require unanimity the way ours does; it operated on a significant majority. This leaves open the possibility that Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus did not cast their lots with the rest. But as a whole, the Sanhedrin agreed: this man was deserving of death. There was just one problem. The Romans had taken away their right to execute anyone. They could not carry out the sentence themselves.

    So the entire assembly—all seventy members, teachers of the law, and others—marched from the courtyard to the place where Pilate lived and judged. It was not a long walk, but it was early morning, and Pilate was not happy to see them. The last thing he wanted was to wake up to a massive religious controversy. His reaction seems to have been something like, “What do you want?” They replied that if this were not serious business, they would not have brought Jesus to him.

    The charges they brought were different from what they had debated during the night. The temple accusation had fallen apart because no witnesses could agree. Now, because Jesus had claimed to be the Son of God, they crafted charges that would matter to Rome. First, they accused Jesus of causing trouble and telling people not to pay taxes to Caesar. That was flatly false—Jesus had taught the opposite, saying to render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s and to God the things that are God’s. Second, they said He was claiming to be a king, an anointed one. That charge, at least, had the ring of a political threat.

    Pilate told them to handle it under their own legal system. They answered bluntly: they would be glad to, but they could not execute Him. That was Pilate’s job now. So Pilate asked Jesus directly, “Are you the King of the Jews?” Jesus responded, “Are you asking because you really want to know?” Pilate said he was not a Jew—that Jesus’ own people and the high priest had delivered Him. Jesus then said, “My kingdom is not of this earth. If it were, my servants would fight. I would not have been delivered up to you.” Pilate asked again, “So you are a king?” And Jesus said, “Yes, I am a king.”

    A crucial point in all of this is why it was happening. It was not happening merely because the chief priests or the Sanhedrin wanted it. This had been preordained by God and predicted by Jesus Himself, repeatedly. As far back as His conversation with Nicodemus in John 3, Jesus spoke of being “lifted up.” He said it again in John 8 after the woman caught in adultery. He said it again in John 12. And in Matthew 20, He was even more specific: “They will turn me over to the Gentiles, and I will be crucified.” The Old Testament had prophesied it. Jesus was not being delivered to Pilate because the Jews willed it; He was being delivered because God had ordained it.

    Meanwhile, the Jews had a problem of their own. They did not want to enter Pilate’s court because doing so would defile them, and the last thing they wanted was to be defiled before the Passover. So the chief priests went to the temple grounds to meet and discuss what was happening as Pilate questioned Jesus. That is when Judas Iscariot found them. He came in distress and said, “I have betrayed an innocent man.” That was a profoundly true statement. And their response was chilling: “We don’t really care about that. That is your problem to deal with.” They were going to continue on their course of having an innocent man killed. Judas threw the thirty pieces of silver on the ground. The chief priests, in a twisted display of scrupulousness, decided they could not put blood money back into the treasury, so they used it to buy a field for burying strangers.

    Pilate, meanwhile, wanted nothing more than to get rid of this situation. When he learned Jesus was from Galilee, he thought he had found his way out and sent Jesus to Herod. Herod had heard much about Jesus and was eager to see Him, hoping to witness a miracle for his own entertainment. But Jesus refused to play that game. He would not perform on command for a man who treated Him as a spectacle. So Herod mocked Him, put a robe on Him, and sent Him back to Pilate. The Jews had now returned from the temple, and Pilate was right back where he started, facing the same impossible decision: What am I going to do with this man?

    In all of this, consider the staggering irony. Jesus was the only undefiled person in the entire narrative. Everyone else—the Sanhedrin, the chief priests, Pilate, Herod, the false witnesses—was completely defiled by sin. Yet they were claiming Jesus was the most defiled, while insisting on their own purity. They would not even enter Pilate’s court for fear of defilement while orchestrating the murder of an innocent man. The same is true of us. We are all defiled people. We have all sinned, and we all need the blood of Jesus.

    As we come to the Lord’s table, think about the hurt that Jesus endured through all of this. It was painful physically and emotionally at every turn. Think about His compassion—the same compassion He showed to Peter, to the crowds, to every broken person He encountered. And think about His resolve. Jesus was resolved that He was going to die for you and for me, so that we could have the hope of being with Him forever. That undefiled One willingly went to the cross for us defiled ones, and that is what we remember every time we gather around this table.

    17 min
  • Jesus and Peter Lock Eyes

    Series: N/A

    Service: Lord’s Supper Service

    Type: Lord's Supper Talk

    Speaker: Dwayne Gandy

    Jesus and Peter Lock Eyes

    In the hours following Jesus’ arrest in the garden, a scene unfolded in the high priest’s courtyard that carries enormous emotional and spiritual weight. To understand what happened between Jesus and Peter that night, it helps to picture the setting and then to ask a question that matters deeply for every Christian who gathers around the Lord’s table: What was in Jesus’ eyes when He looked at Peter?

    The high priest’s house was in upper Jerusalem. It was a large dwelling by the standards of the day, though not by ours. It had living quarters for the high priest and his family, rooms along the outside where servants lived and meetings were held, and an open courtyard in the center with no roof. On this cold, dark night, a fire burned in the middle of that courtyard. Torches may have flickered along the walls near the doorways, casting dim light on the stone. It was in this setting that the events of that night played out.

    After arresting Jesus, they led Him first to Annas, the father-in-law of the high priest, and then to the house of Caiaphas. Luke 22:54 tells us that Peter followed at a distance. He was not yet in the courtyard. A servant girl was manning the gate, and Peter was not allowed to enter. John, however, was already inside. John apparently had a relationship with Caiaphas and was recognized more as a friend of the high priest than as a disciple of Jesus. The servant girl did not even question John’s presence.

    Meanwhile, in one of the side rooms, a quorum of the Sanhedrin had assembled in the middle of the night to question Jesus. They needed a charge worthy of death, and witnesses began offering their accounts of things Jesus had said about the temple. One said Jesus claimed He could destroy the temple and raise it in three days. Another said He said He was able to do it. Another said He declared He would do it. Still another said He spoke of raising a different temple, one not built by human hands. Their testimonies could not agree, and the Old Testament law required agreement by at least two or three witnesses. The charge went nowhere. They never even brought it to Pilate.

    Finally, Caiaphas asked Jesus directly: “Are you the Messiah, the Son of the Blessed One?” And Jesus said yes. Caiaphas tore his clothes and declared, “What need do we have of witnesses? You have heard the blasphemy” (Mark 14:63–64). They condemned Him as worthy of death. Some began to spit on Him, blindfold Him, and strike Him with their fists, saying, “Prophesy!” The guards took Him and beat Him.

    It was around this time that John went to the servant girl at the gate and motioned for Peter to come in. Peter entered the courtyard and sat by the fire. From a strategic standpoint, John probably did not want to be near Peter. John was comfortable in that environment; no one was accusing him of anything. But Peter was about to raise every red flag imaginable.

    The first denial came when a servant girl, seeing Peter by the fire, looked intently at him. She studied him in the flickering light, and Peter must have felt her eyes on him before she said a word. Finally she spoke: “This man was also with Him.” Peter denied it: “Woman, I do not know Him” (Luke 22:56–57). The second denial came a little while later, when another person saw him and said, “You also are of them.” Peter said, “Man, I am not” (Luke 22:58). Then about an hour passed. Peter may have thought he was in the clear. But this third accusation was the most intense. Matthew and Mark both say it came from “those standing there”—not one individual, but a group. They had been whispering and looking at Peter, and then they came over together and said confidently, “Surely this fellow was with Him. He is a Galilean.” Peter’s response became vehement. He swore: “I do not know the man” (Luke 22:59–60).

    And immediately, while he was still speaking, the rooster crowed. Then comes the moment that deserves our deepest reflection. Luke 22:61 says, “The Lord turned and looked at Peter.” Perhaps they brought Jesus out into the courtyard right then, or perhaps there was a window through which their eyes met. But the text is specific: Jesus and Peter looked at each other.

    What did that look communicate? To answer that, you have to know who Jesus was, who Peter was, and what Jesus already knew. Jesus had already told Peter this would happen. He had warned him that Satan had asked to sift him like wheat. He had already told Peter, “When you have returned, strengthen your brothers.” He already knew Peter would come back. He knew Peter would be restored on the shores of Galilee with the threefold question, “Do you love me? Feed my sheep.” He knew Peter would live the rest of his life for Jesus and ultimately die for Jesus. Jesus knew all of that when their eyes met.

    Some have said it was a look of rebuke. But think about that in light of Jesus’ character. Was the one thing He most wanted Peter to feel in that moment guilt? That is hard to accept. Others have said it was a look of disappointment—which, for some people, is even more powerful than a rebuke. Others suggest an “I told you so” look, or a look of hurt. Any of those are possible in part, but none of them seem fully consistent with what Jesus would want Peter to know and feel in that moment.

    Consider another possibility, one that ties together many of the emotional moments in Jesus’ life. Throughout the Gospels, there is a Greek word translated “moved with compassion” that is used exclusively to describe an emotion of Jesus. It appears when He sees the crowds scattered like sheep without a shepherd. It appears when He wants private time with His disciples after John the Baptist’s death but sees the multitude and teaches them instead. It appears when He heals two blind men near Jericho, when He heals a leper, when He raises the widow’s son. It appears in three parables: the forgiving master who canceled the debt, the Good Samaritan, and the father of the prodigal son. Every time, it describes something uniquely divine—a compassion beyond what ordinary humans experience.

    Peter had seen that look in Jesus’ eyes over and over and over. He knew what it meant. And in that brief moment in the courtyard, in the dark, by a dying fire, with the rooster’s crow still ringing in the air, Peter saw it again. Not rebuke. Not disappointment. Compassion. “I know what you did. I knew you were going to do this. I love you. I forgive you.” And Peter went out and wept bitterly.

    That is the look that broke Peter’s heart and ultimately restored him. A look of rebuke might have driven him away. A look of disappointment might have crushed him beyond recovery. But a look of compassion—the same compassion Jesus showed to every broken, hurting, lost person He ever encountered—that look drew Peter back.

    And that raises the question we should carry with us to the Lord’s table every first day of the week: How does Jesus look at us when we come around His table? Does He look at us with disappointment over how we lived last week? Does He want us to feel His rebuke? Or does He look at us the way He looked at Peter—with divine compassion, saying, “I love you. I offered my body so that you could be forgiven and we could be together.” As we partake, think about that look, that moment, their eyes locked—and what Jesus wants us to know as we gather around this table.

    20 min

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