The Word of God Grew and Multiplied

The Word of God Grew and Multiplied Acts 12:1-25 by William Klock The book of Acts isn’t just a collection of stories that happened long ago.  It begins long ago, but it’s the story of the church as it carries on the mission and ministry of Jesus and the Spirit.  And Brothers and Sisters, that makes it very much our story.  It makes it the story that should shape who we are, what we do, how we respond to events around us.  It’s that last one—how we respond to events around us—that seems particularly important to me as we come to Acts 12 today.  We’ve seen the early church persecuted, but how does she respond?  Do those brother and sisters panic?  No.  They pray.  And they trust the Lord.  Even when they didn’t fully understand.  They trusted the Lord. Remember that Jesus, before he ascended, told his disciples that they would be his witnesses in Jerusalem and Judaea, then in Samaria, and eventually to the ends of the whole earth.  For eleven chapters Luke has shown us this promise unfolding and all along the way he’s also shown us the authorities trying to stop it.  First the priestly authorities. Arrests, threats, and imprisonments.  And the church continued to grow.  Then Saul, the zealous Pharisee, came after the church, breathing threats.  He was going to crush Jesus’ people.  And God did something amazing.  He didn’t defeat Saul; he sent Jesus to meet him on the road to Damascus.  And suddenly Paul believed.  He became an apostle.  The devil, the powers, the principalities of this wicked age had done their worst to stop the gospel and the Spirit and despite their efforts, the message about Jesus has filled Jerusalem, Judaea, and Samaria.  It’s even begun to make inroads into the gentile community.  It’s poised to go out to the ends of the earth.  And so the enemy has one last chance to stop this movement before it’s completely out of the bottle: King Herod. Back in Acts 4, after Peter and John had been released from prison, the disciples had gathered together to talk about what happened, but mostly to pray.  And what strikes me there is how well they knew the story they were living in.  They saw their nation raging against them and they prayed Psalm 2: “Why did the nations fly into a rage…The kings of the earth arose…against the Lord and against his anointed Messiah.”  I wonder if, as they were praying the Psalm the could hear or they could picture the Lord, on his throne, laughing at these raging nations who think they can stop his Messiah.  They prayed Psalm 2 back then and now they see that prayer answered as the King of the Jews—the earthly, corrupt, human one—flies into a rage at Jesus, the real King, and his people.  And Luke kind of asks here: What happens when earthly kings set themselves up against the true Lord of creation?  And how should the Lord’s people respond?  So look at 12:1-5 [Page 1094]: “Around that time, King Herod laid violent hands on some people in the church.  He killed James the brother of John with the sword.  When he saw that it pleased the Judaeans, he proceeded to arrest Peter, too. (This was around the time of the Festival of Unleavened Bread.)  So, when he had seized him, he put him in prison, and gave four squads of soldiers the job of guarding him, with the intention of bringing him out to the people after Passover.  So Peter was kept in prison.  But the church prayed earnestly to God on his behalf.” This is Herod Agrippa, the grandson of Herod the Great, and he’s pretty much just as obsessed with holding onto his throne as is his grandfather was—you know, the guy who had all the baby boys in Bethlehem kills because he heard the King of the Jews had been born there.  So he’s watched as this Jesus movement has grown throughout his kingdom.  He’s listened as they openly proclaimed that Jesus is the King of the Jews.  And even though they weren’t fomenting rebellion or anything close to it, he saw a threat to his position.  And so, says Luke very bluntly, he killed James with a sword.  James the son of Zebedee.  In Mark 10, Jesus had asked him if he and his brother, John, were prepared to drink his cup.  And now Herod kills James with a sword. And he saw it pleased his people, so then he goes after Peter.  He thought that if he could take out the leaders of this movement, he could kill the whole thing off.  But there’s something chillingly political about it all.  Something that feels very contemporary in that way.  He killed James.  I didn’t stop the gospel.  But he went up in the polls, so now he schemes to kill Peter. And Luke tells us twice that this happened around Passover—the feast where Israel remembered God’s deliverance of them from a tyrant.  Luke paints this almost as a mini exodus.  No Jewish reader could hear “Passover”, “king”, “prison”, and “deliverance from his hand” and not have the exodus humming in the back of their minds.  So he arrests Peter.  And he puts him behind iron bars and surrounds him with sixteen soliders. And just as they’d prayed before, the church prays again.  And it’s worth pausing here.  I know, I’m getting a little ahead of the story, but we all know the outcome.  Peter is delivered.  But why not James?  I’m sure the church was praying just as hard when James was arrested.  Imagine being James’ mother and asking, “Why did God deliver Peter and not my son?”  Luke doesn’t give us an answer, but it’s a powerful reminder that prayer doesn’t control providence.  This is where we need to remember that we inhabit the story God is writing.  We don’t write our own stories.  I think we sometimes get the pious idea that we can use prayer to do that—to write our own stories—to get God to do what we want.  We probably wouldn’t say it out loud quite that way, but I know we often think of prayer that way.  And so we need the reminder—the one in Luke’s unspoken words here—that that’s not what prayer is.  That’s not how it works.  God is writing the story and he’s a better story teller than we are, because he—unlike us—he is perfectly wise and perfectly good and perfectly just.  Brothers and Sisters, prayer, instead, is a show of trust.  It’s how we entrust ourselves to the goodness of God—even when things don’t look good from our limited perspective.  Now, continuing with verse 6: “On the night when Herod was intending to bring Peter out, Peter was sleeping between two soldiers, bound with two chains.  There were guards on the doors, watching the prison.  Suddenly an angel of the Lord stood there, and a light shone in the cell.  The angel struck Peter on the side and woke him up.  “Get up quickly!” he said.  The chains fell off his hands.  Then the angel spoke again.  “Get dressed and put on your sandals,” he said.  So Peter did.  “Put on your cloak and follow me,” said the angel.” “So he went out, following the angel. He didn’t think all this business with the angel was really happening.  He thought he was seeing a vision.  They went through the first set of guards; then the second; and then they came to the iron gate that led into the city.  It opened all by itself.  They went out and walked along a street.  Suddenly the angel left him.  Then Peter came to his senses. “Now I know it’s true!” he said.  “The Lord sent his angel and snatched me out of the hand of Herod.  He rescued me from all the things the Judaeans were intending to do.” Herod wasn’t messing around.  He had Peter guarded as well as he possible could have.  And suddenly an angel shows up.  And he strikes Peter.  Keep that in mind, because it’s not the only time God is going to strike someone in this story.  But here, I suspect Luke intended this to be funny, the angel strikes Peter to wake him and starts giving him commands: “Get up! Get dressed!  Hey, don’t forget to put your shoes on!  Sheesh, and your coat!”  It’s like trying to wake up your kindergartener and get him out the door to the bus.  And the soldiers, they do nothing.  It’s almost like Daniel in the lions’ den.  The great iron gate opens at the angel’s command.  And the whole time Peter thinks he’s having another vision—like the one he had on that rooftop in Joppa.  It’s not until he’s finally outside, walking down the street, and the angel disappears, and he’s still there outside the prison that Peter finally realises it wasn’t a vision.  It really happened and he’s free.  Herod thought he had Peter safely in his hand, but Herod didn’t account for God.  And then Rhoda.  Look at verse 12: “Once he had realized this, he went to the house of Mary, John Mark’s mother.  Lots of people were gathered there, praying.  Peter knocked at the door in the outer gate, and a maid called Rhoda came to answer it.  When she heard Peter’s voice, she was so excited she didn’t open the gate. Instead, she ran back in and told them that Peter was standing outside the gate. “You’re out of your mind!” they said to her.  But she insisted that it really was true. “It must be his angel!” they said.” Again, I think Luke intends for this to be funny.  The iron gate of the prison opens for Peter, but the maid won’t open the door of Mary’s house and leaves him outside—which is not a good place for a fugitive to be.  It strikes me that maybe one of Luke’s points here is that these aren’t spiritual superheroes.  They’re just ordinary Christians like us.  They were praying for Peter, but when they hear he’s outside, they don’t believe the report.  Consider that they tell the girl it’s Peter’s “angel”—I won’t take the lid off that can of worms this morning—but it sounds like they’re thinking he’s dead—executed like James.  In which case, they were praying for him not so much to be released, but to be steadfast to the end.  I suspect it was a bit of both, but mostly the latter.  They didn’t know what would happen.  They knew they couldn’t write the story themselves.  So they prayed.  They entrust Peter and the whole situation to the God they knew is faithful.  Kings may rage against the Messiah and his people, but as Psalm 2 says, they knew the Lord sits in heaven and laughs.  His Messiah will sit on his holy hill. Verse 16:  “Meanwhile Peter carried on knocking.  They opened the door and saw him, and were astonished.  He made a sign with his hand for them to be quiet.  Then he told them how the Lord had led him out of the prison.  “Tell this to James, and to the other brothers [and sisters],” he said.  Then he left and went somewhere else.  When morning came, there was quite a commotion among the guards as to what had become of Peter.  Herod looked for him but couldn’t find him.  He interrogated the guards and ordered them to be put to death.  Then he left Judaea and went down to Caesarea, and stayed there.” So they finally open the door for Peter and tells them what happened.  It’s not safe for him in Jerusalem, so he takes off.  Luke doesn’t elaborate on that at this point, but it is how he sort of segues things.  From now on, James—not James the son of Zebedee whom Herod killed, but James the brother of Jesus—James is going to be the leader of the church in Jerusalem.  Peter now exits the stage and that’s important.  Acts is not an apostolic biography.  Luke doesn’t even tell us where Peter went.  Because what Acts is actually about it what Jesus is doing through his church.  This is the continuation of Luke’s gospel.  In the gospel Luke reports everything that Jesus began to do and to say.  In Acts he tells us how it all continues.  Yes, Jesus works through his people, but it’s Jesus who’s at the centre of the story. And then morning comes and Herod can’t find Peter and he’s furious—furious enough that he kills Peter’s guards.  Sixteen men.  Luke makes a point of showing us this early king in his raging.  He really is the local embodiment in Judaea of the principalities and powers that stand against Jesus and the gospel.  He is the local embodiment of everything that’s wrong with this fallen world and the systems of the old evil age.  Herod thinks he’s writing his own story. All the evidence should have told him that he was not.  Peter got away.  And, Luke doesn’t tell us what it was, but something that the people in Tyre and Sidon did made Herod angry too.  You’d think that would be a warning that he’s not as in-control of things as he thinks, but apparently not.  That’s something we’d all be wise to heed.  Luke goes on with the third act of this story in verse 20: “Now Herod was angry with the people of Tyre and Sidon.  They all came together to meet him, and they persuaded Blastus, who was in charge of the king’s bedchamber, to seek a reconciliation. (They were, you see, dependent on the king’s country for their food.)  So a day was set, and Herod dressed himself in his royal robes and took his seat on the official platform to make a public address to them.  The people began to shout, “The voice of a god, not of a mortal!” The Jewish historian, Josephus, tells us about this same event.  Herod appeared in Caesarea in a spectacular silver gown meant to catch the morning sunlight.  I doubt anyone there actually thought Herod was a God, but they were dependent on him for their food and he was angry, so they flattered him.  They saw him gleaming on the platform and they hailed him as divine.  Herod—who claimed to be King of the Jews—should have know better than to accept such blasphemous acclaim.  But he took it anyway.  He basked in the glory—glory that should have been reserved only for the living God.  And Luke goes on: “Immediately an angel of the Lord struck him, because he didn’t give God the glory.  He was eaten by worms and expired.  But God’s word grew and multiplied.  Barnabas and Saul had by now accomplished their ministry in Jerusalem, and they came back to Antioch, bringing John Mark with them.” In medical terms, what happened to Herod isn’t clear.  Josephus says that when the crowd hailed him as divine, Herod was suddenly struck by a pain in his belly.  His servants carried him home where he was in agony for five days before dying.  Luke states it very simply and connects it directly with the action of God.  Both Luke and Josephus are clear: this was divine punishment.  Luke’s diagnosis is spiritual: Herod stole glory that rightly belonged to God and God struck him down.  That word “struck” bookends the whole story.  God “struck” Peter in prison to wake him up and to rescue him.  Here God strikes Herod and he dies.  And I think Luke tells the story the way he does to deliberately echo Ezekiel 27 and 28.  In that prophecy, the Lord proclaims coming judgement on Tyre and Sidon and specifically declares to the king of Tyre that he will be struck down by pestilence.  Why?  Because God had established his city and given him prosperity and greatness, but instead of giving glory to God, he claimed to be a god himself.  “Will you still say, ‘I am a god,’ in the presence of those who kill you, though you are but a man, and no god.”  Luke shapes the whole scene around Ezekiel’s prophecy to the King of Tyre.  More importantly, Ezekiel’s is another example of a raging king who falls under God’s judgement. In contrast to Herod, Jesus shows us what true kingship looks like.  Herod uses his royal power to crush and to dominate, to threaten whole regions and cities, and on top of it all, he steals God’s glory.  Herod is what’s wrong with fallen creation.  In contrast, as Acts unfolds, we see Jesus first as the King who gives his own life for the sake of his people.  His path to his throne is not through violence or domination, but through humility and sacrifice—even a death he didn’t deserve.  And for that, God exalted him to his throne.  Herod exalts himself.  Jesus, though he died, now lives.  Herod is food for worms.  And so the church proclaims that Jesus is Lord. Brothers and Sisters, the church still proclaims that Jesus is Lord—or at least it’s supposed to and it should.  Sometimes the church has an obligation to speak truth to power more specifically—to confront specific evils.  But still, the church confronts the rulers and powers of this age head on every time we announce that Jesus is Lord.  It may at times seem futile.  It may at times seem dangerous to confront the principalities and powers of the old age.  But what Luke shows us throughout Acts is that God’s verdict about Jesus outranks theirs.  Acts shows us the church speaking truth to power and all these rulers and authorities who think they stand as judges over us end up finding themselves judged by the resurrection and coming of Jesus.  Acts 12 does this without even a speech by Peter or James.  Herod puts the church on trial and by the end of the chapter Herod is himself on trial and ends up worm food.  God’s verdict stands.  That first Easter morning he vindicated Jesus as Messiah and he will continue to vindicate his church on the same grounds—because we are, by faith and baptism, in and one with his Messiah. And in the end Luke says, But God’s word grew and multiplied. James is dead.  Peter is gone.  But the word of God grew and multiplied.  Brothers and Sisters, Jesus never promised that we would escape persecution or even martyrdom.  Just the opposite.  He promised that we would drink the same cup he drank.  Stephen was murdered. James was murdered.  Jesus himself was crucified.  Our victory lies in the fact that not even death can overturn the verdict that God announced when he raised Jesus from the grave.  Neither persecution, nor prison, nor being thrown to lions can stop the thing that God is doing. Luke echoes both Gensis and Isaiah here.  Through Jesus and the Spirit, the church—the new humanity—is doing what humanity failed to do.  We are fulfilling God’s blessing-command given all the way back at the beginning to be fruitful and to multiply.  But Luke also echoes Isaiah 40 and the prophet’s promise that the “word of our God shall stand forever. Barnabas and Saul finish their work in Jerusalem and return to Antioch.  The mother church in Jerusalem plans her first actual mission to the nations, to Jews and gentiles and they do so strategically—at one of the great crossroads of the ancient world.  Up to his point they’ve been trying to catch up to God as he takes his gospel to the world.  And now, finally, they understand what he’s doing.  Jerusalem, Judaea, Samaria, the ends of the earth.  This time they won’t be dragged along.  Now they’re choosing to be part of the action—to be the people they now understand that God has made them and the mission he’s given them.  And imagine how huge that mission must have seemed.  I get overwhelmed just thinking of reaching our neighbourhood with the gospel.  They were preparing to take the gospel to a dark and hostile world, to challenge gods and kings, even to die in the process.  But they knew God’s promise and they understood that Jesus is truly Lord.  There’s no promise that James will always be rescued.  What the lordship of Jesus does tell us is that Herod will never have the last word.  And Brothers and Sisters, that’s the story we need to inhabit. Let’s pray: Almighty God and Father, the nations rage, the peoples plot in vain, and the kings of the earth plot against your Messiah.  Give us the grace in the midst of them to trust in you and to be faithful stewards of your good news no matter the threats against us.  Remind us always that you sit on your throne and laugh, because you have, already, set your King on your holy mountain.  In his name we pray.  Amen.