Among the Evangelists, Luke has the most interesting cast of minor characters. Barabbas comes into focus here. His inclusion helps us understand what happened to Jesus, why it happened, and what it means for us. We need to enter his story to see the tragic day unfold from his perspective and to learn from him.

Barabbas was not a common criminal. He had been thrown into prison for his part in a violent rebellion that had taken place in Jerusalem. Such events were a regular occurrence. Political and social frustration would regularly spill over into violence, sometimes targeted, sometimes mindless and born of the apparent hopelessness of the cause. Because of such events both the Romans and the chief priests were nervous of popular or messianic movements, not least at the time of major festivals.

We know about Barabbas, but he was only one of many rebel leaders in the period. He escaped crucifixion that Passover time, but the cross claimed many, perhaps dozens or even hundreds, even when no major disturbance had taken place. Rebels were crucified. That was the Roman way.

Luke describes the event in such a way that we can hardly miss the point. Barabbas is guilty of some of the crimes of which Jesus, though innocent, is charged: stirring up the people, leading a rebellion. Moreover, Barabbas has committed murder; Jesus was never accused of that. We don't know whether Barabbas saw himself as a possible 'king of the Jews', but that is possible. One of them is to die, Barabbas or Jesus, and it turns out to be Jesus.

Either Barabbas or Jesus must die; either Barabbas, who stands for violent revolution, which Jesus has opposed from the beginning, or Jesus who has offered and urged the way of peace. Jesus ends up dying the death appropriate for the violent rebel. He predicted that he would be 'reckoned with the lawless' (22:37), and it has happened all too soon.

We are by now used to seeing Jesus in company with tax-collectors and sinners. We have been told, from many angles and with many parables, that this was the focus of his ministry. He embodied the outstretched love of God to all in need, going in search of lost sheep wherever they might be found.

But we were not quite prepared for it to end like this. It is one thing for Jesus to go in to eat with a man who is a sinner (19:7). It is a considerable step beyond that for him to go off and die the death of the violent rebel. But this is in fact the climax and focus of the whole gospel. This is the point for which Luke has been preparing us all along.

All sinners, all rebels, all humans are invited to see themselves in the figure of Barabbas. As we do so, we discover in this story that Jesus comes to take our place, under condemnation for sins and wickednesses great and small. In the strange justice of God, which overrules the unjust 'justice' of Rome and every human system, God's mercy reaches out where human mercy could not. Jesus not only shares in our life but goes so far as to take our place in death, receiving our punishment, our fate.

Though the sin we commit may not be murder, nonetheless Jesus suffers on the cross for our sin. Barabbas represents the position we are all in because of Jesus' death: we live because he died. Amidst all this injustice, the grace of God shines through. Jesus overcomes evil and injustice, even while in the midst of it.

Barabbas's story is our story. Jesus freed us by his death, just as Barabbas was freed. One who saves a life is owed a life. Our Christian walk is a statement of gratitude to the one who has taken our place. We willingly take up our own cross and follow him.

On hearing this, Pilate asked if the man was a Galilean. When he learned that Jesus was under Herod's jurisdiction, he sent him to Herod, who was also in Jerusalem at that time. When Herod saw Jesus, he was greatly pleased, because for a long time he had been wanting to see him. From what he had heard about him, he hoped to see him perform a sign of some sort. He plied him with many questions, but Jesus gave him no answer. The chief priests and the teachers of the law were standing there, vehemently accusing him. Then Herod and his soldiers ridiculed and mocked him. Dressing him in an elegant robe, they sent him back to Pilate. That day Herod and Pilate became friends—before this they had been enemies. (Luke 23:6-12)

The opening verses of Psalm 2 says "Why do the nations rage, and the peoples plot in vain? The kings of the earth rise up and the rulers band together against the Lord and against his anointed…"

Pilate and Herod eventually both agree that Jesus is innocent. That doesn't sound much like banding together against the Lord's Messiah. And yet Jesus still winds up on a cross, something only the rulers of Rome could order. This should remind us of something that escapes us far too often. Sin is rarely so dramatically clear.

We see so many possibly redeeming characteristics in both Herod and Pilate across these episodes. We almost want to get up and cheer them on to make the right decision this time, because they seem so close and there's so much possibility that hangs in the air!

Herod is pleased, curious, and had been waiting a long time to see Jesus. Is that not the posture of seeking that could result in a genuine encounter? And yet the encounter sours.

Not because Herod was raging and conspiring against Jesus, but because he was more interested in his own amusement than doing the long, hard work of seeing justice through to the end.

Herod wants Jesus to perform some fancy sign. But, as "a sheep before its shearers is silent, so [Jesus] did not open his mouth" (Isaiah 53:7). So, frustrated that he could not ply Jesus open with his questions—frustrated in other words, that his plaything would not dance—Herod decided to have his fun in a different way.

The chief priests and teachers of the law were there, vehemently accusing Jesus. And though we later find that Herod finds no basis in their accusations, nevertheless he joins them. He and his soldiers begin ridiculing and mocking Jesus, dressing him up in a fine robe so that Pilate can join in the fun. "Here is your king" Herod jests back to Pilate. And just like that, joking over Jesus, the joke king, Herod and Pilate become friends.

The sin of Herod is a good time. Slander, mocking, cruel joking and laughter at another's expense. But on the basis of these boring sins, Psalm 2's conspiracy between the rulers of the age against the Messiah come to pass. On the basis of boring, workplace, schoolyard sins like these: Herod abandons justice, truth, and the only encounter he would ever have with Jesus.

Rarely are the bold, scandalous, or sexy sins the sins that cause we or the church to fall. Far more often it's something simple like a tasteless joke that wedges us away from a true love of God and neighbour.

Yet even for this, Jesus died. Though our love fails, Jesus' love prevails.

Then the whole assembly rose and led him off to Pilate. And they began to accuse him, saying, "We have found this man subverting our nation. He opposes payment of taxes to Caesar and claims to be Messiah, a king." So, Pilate asked Jesus, "Are you the king of the Jews?" You have said so," Jesus replied. Then Pilate announced to the chief priests and the crowd, "I find no basis for a charge against this man." But they insisted, "He stirs up the people all over Judea by his teaching. He started in Galilee and has come all the way here" (Luke 23:1-5).

Early in his gospel, Luke establishes that the question, "Who is Jesus?" is the key to his story. Readers must decide! This same question is still on full display in the trial that precedes Jesus' crucifixion. And as Pastor Anthony said yesterday, we need to make up our mind. Are we with him or are we not?

Its obvious that the whole assembly of the Jewish leaders are not with him. They cart Jesus off to Pilate with a three-fold accusation. 1) He is subverting our nation. This is one of those bland non-specific accusations which lawyers use so that they can tie all kinds of stuff to it (At least, that is what they do in crime novels and TV shows). The problem is that Pilate will shrug his shoulders at this, if its about the Jews, that it is your problem not mine.

The second accusation: "he opposes paying taxes" is an outright lie, since Jesus clearly told them to give Caesar his coin back (Luke 20:25). But this one does get Pilate's attention because his main job is to ensure that Rome gets its taxes on time. He cannot have a Jewish rabbi walking around discouraging the Jews from paying up.

But it is the third charge that Pilate focusses on in the trial summary Luke provides us. If Jesus intends to be king, than he is a direct threat to Pilate. But Pilate realizes the charge is laughable. Jesus does not look like a king, and he doesn't act like a king. Moreover, the only would-be soldiers he has at his command all fled at the first sign of trouble. At this point, Jesus is no threat to Pilate.

At the beginning of the trial, we have two responses to Jesus: the religious leaders outright reject him, and Pilate thinks he's a joke; innocent, but still a joke. What about you? How do you respond to this Jesus? I am sure that you know many people who have these same reactions to him. But why does that surprise us? Why do we tend to recoil when someone challenges or scoffs at our faith in Jesus?

Is it because, like Pilate, we do not understand him? Or don't like that way of his kingdom? Pilate asked, "Are you the king of the Jews?" to which Jesus replies, "You have said so." That's about as much of a non answer as we can get. What does it even mean?

We might have expected that, like Moses at the court of Pharaoh, the leader of the new Exodus would either threaten Herod with God's judgment or perform remarkable feats to demonstrate his claims, but Jesus does neither. He isn't that sort of prophet, and he isn't that sort of king.

Luke places this meeting of Jesus and Pilate in a sequence of scenes designed to reveal the truth of Jesus' kingship and the falsehood of all other types. At this moment, the truth is more eloquently stated by silence. Jesus made no threats, offered no resistance, and said hardly anything. Jesus was caught at the point where competing interests and agendas met. Not only the sins, but also the petty aspirations, of the world conspired to put him on the cross.

As Isaiah said, "We all, like sheep, have gone astray, each of us has turned to our own way; and the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all. He was oppressed and afflicted, yet he did not open his mouth; he was led like a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before its shearers is silent, so he did not open his mouth" (Isaiah 53:6-7).

Jesus is king of the Jews, but not in the way that Pilate meant. Not in the way of the world. Can we accept this King?

At daybreak the council of the elders of the people, both the chief priests and the teachers of the law, met together, and Jesus was led before them. "If you are the Messiah," they said, "tell us." Jesus answered, "If I tell you, you will not believe me, and if I asked you, you would not answer. But from now on, the Son of Man will be seated at the right hand of the mighty God." They all asked, "Are you then the Son of God?" He replied, "You say that I am." Then they said, "Why do we need any more testimony? We have heard it from his own lips." (Luke 22:66-71)

Odd things happen here in the Council chambers. The Council does indeed decide to make a declaration to the Roman governor that Jesus is claiming to be the Messiah King. They will attribute this to him, even though he does not "own" the declaration himself. "You say that I am," is all that Jesus will give them.

Jesus will not incriminate himself, except by allusion to scripture—in this case to the book of Daniel, which talks about the Son of Man, or Psalm 110 where the Lord says to my Lord: "sit at my right hand." Jesus calls Scripture to testify on his behalf rather than speak for himself. This scriptural testimony, of course, is testimony that each of the religious leaders will have to ponder and decide about for themselves... if they're so inclined.

But they're not. They've already made up their minds. Even still, Jesus confronts them with the truth and calls witnesses to testify on his behalf through his allusions to scripture. He loved them and offered them the means to hear and respond to his Messianic presence all the way to the end.

Those words of truth Jesus speaks are arresting though. When they ask him if he is the Messiah, he replies: "If I tell you, you will not believe me, and if I asked you, you would not answer." In one of the most consequential questions of the Jewish faith at that time—the identity of the Messiah—no one in the religious leadership was genuinely seeking an answer.

They were committed only to leaving their options open. If Jesus had asked them if he was the Messiah—they would not have answered him one way or the other, not even to say "no." And if Jesus were to tell them plainly who he was, that wouldn't inspire any faith either, because they didn't really care. They were committed only to keeping their options open.

Which is to say they were committed to other things. To keeping their power. Keeping control of their place in the Temple. Keeping the Romans or the crowds appeased.

If any of us are to be converted more deeply to faith in Jesus, to become more deeply transformed, we will have to hear Jesus' challenge to the religious leaders too. Do we really want to believe Jesus is the Lord of our lives? Do we really want to take on the implications of needing to change and be transformed because he is?

If he asked us, would we answer? If he told us, would we believe him? Or are we actually committed to other things?

In the story of Jesus arrest and trial, both Judas and Peter experience guilt. Guilt is a good thing, mostly. It is meant to be good, to act like a smoke detector, telling us that something is wrong. Of course, like everything else about us, it can be corrupted by sin so that we feel guilty about troubles we did not create. Let's leave that sort of guilt aside for today. In the gospels, both Judas and Peter feel the proper kind of guilt because they have both done wrong.

The question to be asked is, "What do we do with our guilt?" Its not guilt that is a problem, but how we respond to it. Judas could not deal with his guilt. Peter's story ends differently; let's consider it.

Surely, this is one of the most poignant moments in all of the scriptures, "Jesus turned and looked straight at Peter". As he looked into his master's eyes from across the courtyard, Peter must have remembered all his bravado: "Even if I have to die with you, I will never disown you" (Matthew 26:35). Did he also remember that Jesus had prayed for him (22:31)?

He went outside and wept bitterly. He didn't kill himself, didn't disintegrate. He continued to hang around. A few days later he ran right into the tomb wondering "Is it really empty?" He swam ahead of the others to meet Jesus on the beach and after breakfast Jesus restored him.

There is no formula to it; Peter did no acts of penance. All we see in Peter is a new humility. He can't bring himself to answer Jesus' question, "Do you love me?" He knows he doesn't love Jesus enough. He knows that now. In Peter's story, we see that it really doesn't matter that Peter's devotion is insufficient. That's encouraging for all of us who wonder if our devotion is sufficient. What matters is that Jesus loves him, Jesus died for him, Jesus rose for him, Jesus stayed with him.

Guilt. What do we do when the guilt alarm goes off? It depends on which gospel we believe in. Many Christians buy into the gospel of self-improvement. We tell ourselves that we must try harder to be good and we must fix things. This is where we begin incorporating guilt for things that we had no hand in breaking. If only we had been a better parent, a better spouse, a better friend…this bad thing would not have happened. This only leads to despair and loneliness and, yes, sometimes, even death, as in Judas' case.

This is the kind of guilt that says, "if I feel really bad for a long enough time;" or, "If I give a little more time to Bible study or to some other religious activity;" or, "If I try really hard to do better, come up with a series of goals and become accountable to someone to achieve those goals;" or, "If I work hard to undo the consequences for what I have done," then God will know that I am serious, and he'll let me off, and I won't feel so guilty anymore.

Do you think that is what Peter saw in his master's eyes from across the courtyard? An accusation and a command to try harder. Trying harder has never set anyone free of guilt.

Here is what Peter saw in those eyes, "Yes, you did it. You denied me, even though you vowed you never world. But I am going to die for what you did. You don't have to live with it. So go out and weep your bitter tears of repentance. That's appropriate because you've done a terrible thing. But then turn back to me in faith. Enjoy your salvation and dry your tears of regret, because for those tears I died!"

NO! Peter did not understand all of that yet. But he would. Latter, he would quote Isaiah, ""He himself bore our sins" in his body on the cross, so that we might die to sins and live for righteousness; "by his wounds you have been healed" (1 Peter 2:24).

When guilt fills your soul, hear those words, "by his wounds we are healed."

To see this sermon in the context of the worship service it comes from, find it here on YouTube. Or, head to our website to connect with the worshiping community of Immanuel CRC: immanuelministries.ca

DIVE IN QUESTIONS

1. What is Gluttony?

2. What does Gluttony have to do with our lifestyle? Where do you see gluttony in your own lifestyle?

3. How do our habits condition our hungers? Do you see places in your own life where this has happened?

4. What "spiritual disciplines" do you practice in your life and what god do they form your hungers into desiring? What reduction of your humanity do they result in?

5. How might you re-order the Spiritual Disciplines of your life to seek God, His Kingdom, and his righteousness first? What other "disciplines" might you have to abandon to do so? How do you think that action might shape your trust and form your hungers for God?

Yesterday we heard that the enemy came with a kiss. Today we hear that a friend comes with a sword. Jesus stops both of them: the betrayal and the violence. His kingdom has room for neither.

Jesus' kingdom is a kingdom of light that operates in the open of the day. Jesus intends for his work to be seen and heard plainly. No sneaking around. No tricks or traps. No underhanded deals. No coercive uses of intimidation, bribes, or violence. None of that. Jesus is the light of the world that reveals the motives of every heart, the actions of every hand, and the loving grace of God that comes to confront, forgive, and heal them both.

But as Jesus himself proves on this night, it is not terribly advantageous to limit oneself to pure and innocent means. In a forceful, violent world—living as children of the light is a good way to wind up dead, defeated, left behind and relegated to irrelevance. The deeds of darkness are far quicker, more efficient and effective at achieving desired outcomes. A sword, an army, or a bribe of 30 pieces of silver gets things moving in a way that the slow kingdom wheels of justice, discipleship, and relationships just can't hack.

That said: to be effective, many of these deeds of darkness have to stay in the dark and remain a secret. They can't be exposed by the light of day or they will be seen for what they are: lies, injustice, and violence used to help us pursue our own ways at any cost. Their validity vanishes in an instant.

In this particular case: it was the insiders who did it. The clergy: the pastors and elders of the church. The people who should've known better if anyone did. But clergy and other leaders are no less prone to the sins of the darkness than anyone else. We also seek out our own ends, and when the ways of Jesus' Kingdom of Light doesn't quite seem powerful enough to win the day, sometimes we wait for the sun to set and resort to lesser things. So enters infighting, abuse, self-righteousness, slander, and church splits.

To all of these things, Jesus says: "No more of this!" Then Jesus picks our ears up off the ground, sticks them back on our heads, and attempts to get us all—the Judases and sword-wielding disciples alike—to hear his correcting, revealing word of truth.

Jesus' kingdom is not a rebellious kingdom that marches onward to conquer the world with swords. Nor does his kingdom operate in the darkness of divisive and deplorable means. No: it is a kingdom of light and of the way of peace; of truth, justice, and righteousness that judges the hearts of all people and that would reconcile all of them together under one King: Jesus Christ.

This means of course, that Jesus will not fight back. He will submit to this hour of darkness and wind up dead. Counterintuitively, this is the very way that his ways prevail. Rather than join the darkness, Jesus, the light, shines in the darkness—proving once and for all that the darkness cannot overcome him.

In today's text, we see just how deep and depraved sin can be. Judas' betrayal of Jesus was of the worst sort. But we also see just how determined Jesus is to bring redemption to the cosmos. He is willing to accept the betrayal from a friend so that all, including us, can be named his friends.

In those days, it was not unusual for men to exchange a kiss when they met. It was a convenient way for Judas to identify Jesus for those who had come to arrest him. It would have been very dark and those with only a cursory knowledge of Jesus and his band of twelve, could easily have arrested the wrong man.

This kiss of greeting expressed friendship and esteem, even love. Not romantic love, to be sure. But the love of friends who will go to all lengths to help each other. Giving this kind of kiss was a powerful symbol to everyone who saw it. Strangers would never greet each other with a kiss. It was a greeting reserved only for the most special of relationships. Later, Paul told the church "To greet one another with a holy kiss" (Romans 16:16).

On the very night of his betrayal, Jesus served the Passover to His disciples, including Judas. That meal was an affirmation of His covenant with them. Jesus understood what it meant to be in covenant. He knew He would have to lay down His life to empower that covenant and make it real. And just as Jesus affirmed His covenant to the other disciples that night, He confirmed it to Judas. Jesus extended His genuine love and commitment to Judas as He offered him the bread and cup, and Judas feigned commitment by accepting the bread and the cup as symbols of the covenant.

Accordingly, this method of betrayal was particularly heinous. Betraying Jesus with a kiss was about as low as a person could go. It was like saying, "You and I are best friends forever. Now please turn around so I can stab you in the back!" The kiss Judas gave was false. It revealed insincerity, bogus love, and a phony commitment. The fact that it was premeditated made it even worse. This was no last-minute, accidental betrayal; it was well-planned and very deliberate. Judas played the game all the way to the end, working closely with Jesus and remaining a part of His inner circle. Then at the appointed time, Judas drove in the dagger as deep as he could!

Judas's actions were hypocritical in the extreme—his actions said, "I respect and honor you," at the exact time he was betraying Jesus to be murdered. Judas's actions illustrate Proverbs 27:6, "Wounds from a friend can be trusted, but an enemy multiplies kisses." Often, foes disguise themselves as friends. Evil often wears a mask to conceal its true purpose. Such deception and hypocrisy often lie at the base of sin. Sin works hard to disguise itself.

But Jesus knows what is happening, as his question, "Are you betraying the Son of Man with a kiss?", indicates. However, it also offers Judas one last opportunity to change course. Just hours earlier Jesus had warned his followers, "The Son of Man will go as it has been decreed. But woe to that man who betrays him!" (22:22).

Jesus will walk this road. He will accept his friend's betrayal, "For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost" (19:10). And the way of salvation was through betrayal and death, "The Son of Man must suffer many things and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests and the teachers of the law, and he must be killed and on the third day be raised to life" (9:22).

As Stuart Townsend sings, "Through the kisses of a friend's betrayal, He was lifted on a cruel cross; He was punished for the world's transgressions, He was suffering to save the lost; He fights for breath, He fights for me Loosing sinners from the claims of hell; And with a shout our souls are free - Death defeated by Immanuel!" (From the squalor of a borrowed stable [Immanuel] ©1999 Thankyou Music).

So, sit in that garden with Jesus, Judas, the other disciples, and the crowd coming to arrest him. See Jesus extending his hand of friendship to Judas to the very end. See that same hand extended to you. Reach out and grab hold. It is the hand of life, the hand that was dead, but is now alive, to give life to all who will take hold of it.

Gethsemane is not a word that Luke uses. But it's not that he doesn't say it.

Gethsemane is a word that translates to "oil press." Presumably the garden grove of Olive Trees on the Mount of Olives had an oil press within it, such that it was called by that name. "Gethsemane." Oil press: it is the best description not just of the place, but also of what happens here, especially as Luke tells it.

But again, Luke doesn't use that word. He just says "the place." Upon reaching "the place," Jesus told the disciples to pray so that they would not fall into temptation.

Why? Because temptation was pressing in. Satan had asked to sift the disciples like wheat. Peter had been told that he would soon disown Jesus. And they still didn't understand anything about greatness, violence, or power when it came to the kingdom of God.

Some of this had perhaps become apparent to them as Jesus rebuked and warned them while they were still at table in the upper room. Luke reports that they were exhausted from sorrow, and maybe that's why. In any case, as the press of temptations and forces hardened around them: the disciples went limp in their emotional exhaustion, desponding in sleep rather than responding in prayer.

But strong pressures were also pressing in on Jesus. Out of his humanity, he pleads for mercy. Instead, he receives strength. But it does not stop him from praying even more earnestly in anguished cries to his Father. It is here, in anguish, feeling the crushing press of Judas' betrayal, the disciples' emotional exhaustion, and the rejection and crucifixion that lay ahead that Jesus' sweat falls like drops of blood.

Luke doesn't use the word Gethsemane, but he does give the most vivid example of it. The law of firstfruits said that the first pressing of oil from one's olives belonged to God, and the second to us. So it is here.

Jesus is pressed like olives at 'the place' of Gethsemane to the point that his blood begins to drip to the ground. This first pressing is for God, offered up in anguished cries of prayer and surrender.

Of course, the second pressing on the cross would be for us. "Drink from it, all of you: this cup is the new covenant in my blood," Jesus said, after all.

This gift pressed from Jesus and given to us is exactly what strengthens us today for the prayerful battle against temptation. So: receive Jesus' gift and hear his command—it is time to awake and pray.

In chapter 9, Luke recorded how Jesus sent his 12 disciples into the villages to proclaim the gospel of the Kingdom, to cast out demons and to cure diseases. For the journey, Jesus instructed them to take nothing along. They were to depend on the hospitality of the people they encountered. Amazingly, it all went according to plan; they were well provided for as they did kingdom work, as referred to in our text.

Throughout the centuries, some Christian groups have attempted to replicate this mission, assuming that this is the normative method of proclaiming the kingdom. That is a misreading of Jesus intention. Most of the church has understood that this was a onetime mission with a onetime methodology. This conclusion is rooted in our text in which Jesus tells his disciples things are about to change.

Trouble is coming quickly. Perilous and difficult days are ahead. They will now have to fend for themselves. They can no longer depend on the good will of others.

It is important not to miss the rhetorical character of these remarks. The disciples take the comment about the sword literally—one of the disciples will even wield his sword at Jesus' arrest, a reaction Jesus rebukes as he heals the damage the sword has done. His reply, "That's enough", is a dismissal. The disciples still do not understand the nature of Jesus kingdom.

In the past it was an eye for an eye, tooth for tooth, sword for sword. You responded to danger by becoming dangerous yourself. But in his kingdom, one does not respond to violence with violence, rather, you turn the other cheek.

Jesus is about to be numbered among the sinners. He will be condemned to death as a criminal and allow himself to be crucified. Thus, the disciples are in trouble as well. He needs them to understand, and he needs us to understand, that his followers must be prepared for opposition. The Lord has in mind a toughness of character; a capacity to stand strong in the battle. He wants us to be focussed on his mission without the need for accolades nor the world's acceptance and care. What is needed is the courage of a soldier in battle, fight until you win, or you die.

As disciples, we serve as aliens in a strange land (1 Peter 2:11), as citizens of heaven (Phil. 3:20-21). We will need to draw together to support one another, while not expecting support from those who do not share our devotion to the Lord. We need to encourage each other not to pick up the weapons of the world, such a swords or guns or fists or angry words.

We are called to be wholehearted followers of the Crucified One. But the world in which we live is in the power of sin and the Evil One. Thus, it is unavoidable that scorn and hatred will be hurled towards us from those who reject God and His Christ. And the only way to remain firm in such a world is to be spiritually equipped with His power and armed with the sword of His Word.

The use of force in the vindication and extension of His church on earth has been advocated by some sections of Christendom. However, it is quite foreign to the teaching of Jesus as his rebuke, "That's enough" indicates.